#i may have moved on but i'll never forget

[woahjo]

katsuki rarely drinks. it's not something he enjoys. but one one night, he shows up at your once-shared apartment, smelling like liquor. something sweet and fruity, liked he'd tried to wash a bitter taste from his mouth. to someone who doesn't know him the way you do, a tired sobriety may be assumed. he's that sort when he drinks.

he smiles when he sees you, a bashful kind of smile, despite not having spoken with you for months and you realize that maybe he's forgotten. maybe he's forgotten the last few months when he moved his stuff out of your place, the period of time after the break up where no one would bring up your names in front of the other.

"katsuki? it's the middle of the night," you say to him through the half open door. "what are you doing here?"

katsuki looks at you, clearly tired, and he swallows thick before opening his mouth and closing it again. you wait for him to find his words.

"i wanted to see you," he says.

"you don't live here anymore," you remind him gently, though you're not sure why you assume that he believes he does.

katsuki glances at the ground and then uses the doorframe to steady himself. you can tell that he's trying not to scare you, trying not to use the sheer size of his body. there's something cautious and equally careless about his motions and you tilt your head.

"katsuki?"

"why don't we talk anymore?" he asks you, swallowing again. you wonder where his friends have gotten off to and at what point int he evening they'd noticed that he wandered off.

the question tugs at your heartstrings as you stare at the man in the doorway. it's a pathetic sort of feeling, a weak longing in your chest. you're not sure how to answer. after the break up, things just sort of... fell off. there was nothing to say anymore.

"I want to talk to you," he admits.

this is a side of katsuki that only you are privy to. a quieter, gentler side of him. one where he can openly admit his wants and faults. an exposed bleeding wound that katsuki has never really been able to sew shut.

you shake your head a little.

"talking's hard," you tell him. you're being honest. talking to him is hard. there is so much history there.

"we used to be friends," he reasons, almost as if he's reminding himself.

"yeah," you nod, "we did."

"and now we're not," he adds. "and that fucking sucks."

you nod again.

"it's late, katsuki," you say to him. "you should get home and sleep this off."

katsuki nods, but he lingers. his eyes wander past you into the inside of your apartment, almost as if he can picture himself wandering in. you keep the door half shut.

"we'll talk soon?" he asks, something hopeful in his voice. this vulnerability makes you ache.

"yeah," you respond. "we'll talk soon. fix things."

katsuki nods and then, as if something sobering has come over him, he straightens his back. you furrow your brows as he looks at you, a pink tinge over his cheeks, and wait for what he has to say next.

"sorry to- sorry to bother you so late," he says, a little less gently. he's let a mask slip carefully over his features.

"it's fine," you shake your head. "get home safe, okay? do you need me to call someone for you?"

katsuki shakes his head insistently. "no, no," he says firmly— soberly. "i'm good. i'll see you around."

"okay."

he turns from your step and you watch his back for a moment before quietly shutting the door to your apartment. it feels too quiet now, and you briefly miss the light from the street as you turn back to the empty, darkened rooms.

you wonder if he'll remember coming to your door tomorrow and kick himself for it. you wonder if he'll wake up in the morning, his head pounding, with the mortifying memory of having shown up on your doorstep, telling you that he misses you in a set of different words. or, you wonder if he'll forget. will he wake tomorrow with no memory at all of the first conversation you've shared in months?

it's probably best if he doesn't remember it. then, there'll be nothing to follow up on and nothing to apologize for in the sobering light of day. you won't have to talk to him and be reminded of just how painful every aspect of this is. you have no intention of keeping your promise to talk soon, as much as you might like to fix things. it's best, for the both of you, if you let him fade into the background. then, you can meet him again as strangers—friends of friends—and pretend that the history between you both never happened in the first place.

[rederiswrites]

Took a walk down to the woods with the girl this morning, to clear the brain fog and check out the berry situation. I readily admit that most of the time I straight up forget how much is back there, but at least my timing was on point with regard to the berries--wineberries just beginning to pop:

and wild blackberries, for better or worse, are everywhere. Pretty sure now that that's the bramble growing in the field, too.

There were so many other things to see and learn, too.

It was good to revisit this magnificent grandfather maple that won my heart before we ever bought this place:

Those roots fill me with such reverence and awe.

If only I can think of it at the right time of year, next early spring I'll come out and collect Common Greenbrier shoots to eat. They're supposed to be tasty, and goodness knows the plants can take the knock:

Common Greenbrier is native and has wildlife value in addition to being humanly edible, but it's also aggressive and thorny, and tend to climb and overwhelm other plants. It's probably not gonna go away, though, so we may as well be friends as enemies. I have plenty of enemies already.

Like this:

Your basic bush honeysuckle. An invasive that accounts for maybe as much as 30-40% of my woods' undergrowth by itself. It's supposedly best treated in fall, when you can go through and cut it down before painting the stumps with herbicide. Given how difficult it is to even move through most areas in our woods, I'm sure we'll be repeating that process for years to come.

My id app says this is privet, probably Chinese, another invasive understory shrub. Cute, tho.

Same treatment as the bush honeysuckle I'm guessing.

On the upside, id app says this is native viburnum, maybe nannyberry:

Berries are edible and ripen in late fall, so I should put that on the calendar! Never had one before.

I forgot just how far this path in the woods ran, and how beautiful it is. My husband didn't--he's been faithfully mowing it to keep it clear. Otherwise, like the rest of the woods you can see, it would be entirely choked with underbrush.

Never saw this delicate beauty before, and only saw one today. App id says Stachys spp. , possibly Hairy Hedge-Nettle. Not a terribly elegant name for such a lovely flower. I'd love to encourage this one to thrive!

There was so much more to see, but Tumblr is cutting me off on photos. Ah well.

[repressedqueen]

It's been precisely 2 years since i first watched 4x14 and the infamous Because, Evan scene. Seeing it again, during my current rewatch, still gives me CHILLS.

Not even talking about the romantic side of things (which imo is there).

It's the vulnerability of both men. The pure love that oozes out of them. The gentleness with which they treat each other. How scared Buck is that Eddie is so fragile he might break at any moment, because he still can't believe he is alive after all this. The fact that Eddie has just been through a near-death experience and his first concern is to reassure Buck that he is so not expendable. The way Buck looks at Eddie like a puppy the moment he hears his name.

The fact that this the first time a traumatized kid, who has felt like he's worth nothing his whole life, like he is invisible, is finally told that he is in fact so valuable to someone, so seen.

In conclusion, I'm never getting over this scene and I could write essays about it. (Also, HOW INCREDIBLY ACTED IS IT?! Both actors are killing it!! Just a look from Oliver and I want to sob. And Ryan, is it just me, or does he feel different in this scene? I'm not sure how to describe it, I just feel him so grounded and present. I just love them both.)

[jojolimons]

huh thought i was going crazy but alcremie did used to be able to learn mystical fire in swsh

however its no longer a tm in sv :pensive:

[withleeknow]

forgetful.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; minho is lowkey the biggest simp wbk, unedited ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ word count: 0.9k note: first fic of 2024! don't look at me tho, at this point i just keep writing the most self-indulgent shit lol

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

minho is the type to - 15 seconds after he meets you for your weekly date night - ask you where your gloves are when he sees your reddened and shivering hands. there was a greeting kiss preceding the question, of course.

"i think we both know what the answer is," you tell him, trying to rub your hands together for warmth until he takes them and presses your cold fingers against his cheeks, before he kisses your palms.

"what’s the point of getting matching gloves if you keep forgetting yours?" he says, a light scolding tone in his voice that matches the slight frown tugging on his brows.

"it's not my fault!" you try to defend yourself. you'd raise your hands for emphasis, but he's still keeping them near his face, alternating between kisses and blowing into them to get you all nice and toasty. "i keep them by the door on purpose so i wouldn't forget to take them with me when i go out. you have to at least give me a little credit for that. i just... never actually remember to bring them."

he rolls his eyes, an act that most would find patronizing especially if minho is the one who's doing it. but when it comes to you, everything minho does is full of affection, even as he pretends to be annoyed.

"what am i going to do with you?" he mutters like a disappointed parent.

"it was your idea to get the gloves. i didn't really need them though. i have you."

"but i'm not with you all the time, baby. you need to keep yourself warm."

"well, you're here with me, aren't you? you can keep me warm now. i'll worry about cold hands later."

squishing his cheeks together, you pull him toward you for a swift peck.

despite his exasperated sigh, minho still presses his lips against each of your palms one last time, even turns them over to kiss your knuckles, before he settles on intertwining his left hand with your right one, stuffing them in his coat pocket as he pulls the both of you toward the direction of your dinner reservation.

"wait!" you exclaim, holding up your neglected hand, "what about this one? it's cold too."

he turns to look at you, his face devoid of all emotions as he assesses your so-called dilemma. then, minho lets go of you, telling you to put both your hands in your own pockets.

"come onnn," you lament, pouting at the man in front of you.

"you come on," he retorts. "just do it."

you huff childishly, watching as the breath comes out in a puff of smoke in the cold air, thinking minho is really letting you fend for warmth by yourself for the remaining 10 minutes that it takes to walk to the restaurant.

it's not like you meant to forget the gloves at home.

before you can resume walking, minho moves to stand behind you, pulling you to him, eliciting a surprised oof! from you. he shoves his hands into your pockets, intertwining your fingers once again within the confines of the fabric as he shuffles you forward, his legs on either side of yours so it's easier for you to walk. the thick coats and wool scarves that you're both wearing already make you look like a pair of clumsy bears roaming the street, but with your back pressed against his front like this, you have no doubt that by-passers must be thinking you're two cotton balls waddling in the middle of the city.

"minho!" you laugh, partially embarrassed that people are side-eyeing this strange public display of affection. "stop!"

"you wanted me to keep you warm, didn't you?"

"people are staring!"

"you said you were cold." he seems unfazed though, continuing to nudge you forward like it's the most normal thing in the world. "make up your mind."

"i take it back!"

you do your best to plant your feet firmly on the ground to keep him from moving. it works though, or at least it staggers him enough for you to wriggle out of his hold. you take a few steps away from minho, and he looks at you with unimpressed eyes.

"i take it back," you repeat. "we're only a couple blocks away. i think i'll manage."

he stares at you for a moment longer, before he reaches into his bag and pulls out a pair of gloves, identical to the matching ones that you two picked out together a few weeks ago.

"how do you have my gloves?"

"these aren't the ones at your place," he clarifies. "this is your backup pair. i went back to the store and got them because i know you never remember to take shit with you."

you don't even try to suppress the grin that tugs on your lips when he walks closer to you, taking your hands and attentively covers your skin with the wool. "so you just... keep them with you at all times now?" you ask.

"pretty much, yeah."

once he's made sure that gloves are hugging your fingers snugly, you pull him down for a kiss, your lips moving together warmly. you feel him smile against you even though he's trying to look stern.

"you love me sooo much," you simper when you break from the kiss.

minho sighs, a long one as if to say yes, unfortunately i do love you very much.

"now come on." this time he does speak aloud. "let's go before they give away our table."

because that's just the kind of person minho is. because no matter how grumpy he may appear from the outside, he's still the type to always think of you and your wellbeing and show up for you even when you don't show up for yourself. no matter how callous his facade is, he is still the type to love you quietly. tenderly. completely.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 01.01.2024]

[hotchreid-cm]

Forgot / Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!Reader

Summary: You tell Hotch to go home after a long case.

It was a long case. One of those cases that as soon as you arrive back at the office you just want to go home. And that's what everyone did.

Except you and Hotch. You weren't ready to go home yet. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren't quite ready to let Hotch out of your sight. You almost lost him tonight.

You look up from your desk, your eyes drifting to his office, the light spilling through the slats in the window. Hotch is hunched over his desk, rubbing his temples, you assume with his eyes closed.

You're up and walking before you even realise what you're doing. A soft knock on the door and a quiet 'come in', bring you Hotch now leaning back in his chair looking directly at you.

You clear your throat, "what are you still doing here? I thought you would have gone home as soon as we were back?"

Hotch gestures to the papers on his desk, "I think the cleaning crew may have knocked some papers over and tried to put them back together. Only they're now in the wrong order and I have to file them tomorrow."

You watch Hotch rub at his temples again, eyes screwed shut like his lamp light is too bright for him.

"I'll put them back in the right order. You go home."

Hotch shakes his head, "I couldn't ask you to do that. It's not your job and I'm sure you're tired and ready to go home."

You step into his office fully, "its lucky you're not asking then."

He looks at you with some surprise, and a very faint smile.

You gesture for him to rise from the chair, "it doesn't take a profiler to know that you're in pain and you need rest. Go home, see Jack and get some sleep."

He studies you for a moment and as always you have to fight the urge to squirm under his heavy gaze.

You're not sure if he knows that he has a smoulder hot enough to make a nuns panties go up in flames, but he uses it on you all the time. And let's just say you're glad you're not a religious woman as all the times you've thought about him while in bed would surely be your one way ticket to downstairs.

You've always had an attraction to Hotch from the moment you joined the team. Only he was so closed off that you could never tell if he felt the same.

But after tonight, after he got taken, you knew the attraction was becoming something more. Something dangerous, too real.

You crushed him in a hug and held him a little longer than was professionally appropriate when you finally found him. But you didn't care, nothing matters when it came to losing the people you loved. All you wanted to do was take care of him.

Hotch rose from his desk and reached for his briefcase, "you're sure about this?"

You flash him a smile, "absolutely, I've got no one waiting for me at home, especially no one as adorable as Jack. I'll get the files ready for the morning, after you're well rested."

Hotch nods, walking towards you and the door to his office. He surprises you when his large hand covers your forearm, "thank you."

He looks so deeply into your eyes as he says it, you're afraid he can see every secret you've ever had, your soul laid bare.

And then he's gone, striding down the hall and out of the glass doors.

Your breath leaves you all at once as you move to sit in the chair he just vacated.

The air still smells like him and it comforts you when your brain brings back those terrifying moments of the case just passed.

You just start to sort through the papers when Hotch rushes back into the office.

You stand at the abruptness of the unexpected intrusion, "Hotch? What is it? What's wrong?"

He blows out a breath like he had run all the way back here, "I forgot something"

"What? What did you forget?"

He strides across the room and around the desk, both hands covering your cheeks as he brings your face closer to his.

When your lips meet, your surprise melts along with your mouth against his. Your body naturally leans into his strong one, taking strength you didn't know you needed.

When you open to him, and your tongues meet, one of his hands slides to your waist. He tries to bring your bodies closer, to feel you, and connect you like he never wants to let you go.

When he finally pulls away, his thumb brushes your bottom lip, "I forgot you. But I don't think I'll be making that mistake again. I'll see you in the morning."

And then he was gone, leaving you giggling like a school girl in his office.

A/N: Thank you for reading! It's my first Hotch fic so please be nice 🥹 just wrote this quickly on my phone so not proofread or edited.

[igotanidea]

Somebody's watching me : AK!Jason x reader

Request: AK! jason hears y/n’s name from his opponent and just goes nuts like he goes home looking for her.

A/N : the requests is a little twisted, as usual, but I hope you'll still like it anon :D

***

It was gone.

His old life was gone.

And with it, everyone he knew before.

All that was left was revenge, hate, rage. And this unstoppable need for killing someone, destroy something, wreck havoc on every single person who did him any wrong.

Bruce.

Fucking Batman.

He was the Arkham Knight now.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Focused on building his position so that no one, no fucking one, would ever hold any power over him.

And if that meant keeping tabs on everyone under his watchful gaze so be it.

And if that meant putting some pressure on everyone who dared to do as much as step a toe over the line, so be it.

And disturbances?

Defnitely not something he was about to allow.

And now he was holding a gun to one of his goons head.

"What did you do?" he hissed, his voice distorted by the helmet

"Sir, I --"

"What did you do?" Jason repeated pressing the metal more into man's head.

"I-- I disobeyed--"

"You disobeyed. And do you know what happens to people who disobey me?"

"Sir, please this is--"

Jason shot in the air and the man almost fell to his feet.

"It was-"

"I'm not going to give a warning shot again"

"I was-"

"I'm gonna count to three now. One."

"There's this girl."

"Two."

"Her name is Y/N."

"thr-- what?"

"She is very distant family, but --"

"Shut up!" Jason yelled, his face twisted with rage, not that anyone could see his expression hidden under the metal. "Shut the fuck up you hear me!" it took him two steps to be in front of the man, yanking him up by the collar and pinning to the wall with brutal force, half-chocking him "you ever do as much as think her name again and I'll kill you and put your head on a stick as a warning to anyone who dare have a thought of himself. YOU HEAR ME!?"

"y-ye-yes..."

"now get the fuck out of here!" the man was violently thrown on the floor, getting up as fast as he could and rushing out the door. It was truly a miracle he lived to tell the tale, cause Arkham Knight was not known for his leniency.

But Y/N.

Someone from his past.

More than someone.

A girl, a woman, he was once in love with.

A woman, whose name he forgot in the pursuit after Batman.

Or rather - tried to forget.

She was the only one who ever got him. The only one to accept him fully, with all his flaws.

His Y/N.

His Y/N who betrayed him just like anyone else. Who forgot him. Who moved on without giving as much as a single thought to him when he was lost. Who was never looking for him.

His Y/N.

It;s been years since he heard anyone mention her. Years since he swore to never get manipulated again.

And then.

Just a few letters mixed together. Just a few sounds.

And she was right behind his eyes, just like he remembered her. Because even his dark side refused to let go of the rememberance of their time together.

Her laugh. Her smile. Her eyes and freckles from the sun, as fleeting as the summer days they were spending together. Her calmness, care and tenderness when she was patching up his woudns, tiredlessly putting on bandaids and stitches.

Fuck!

He didn't need that.

Just another phase of brainwashing. If not from his capturers than from his own men.

Hell no.

He was going to say no to the past life once and for all.

Hunting her down, wherever she may be.

See her for the last time.

Pour hatred in his heart, destroying all the remaining piece of useless softness and caring he carried in his soul.

Burn the last link connecting him to the past down.

***

She was spending the night in her old apartment. Sitting by the same desk, with the same lamp, in the same posture she ever did.

One leg half bent and folded under her ass, the other hanging loose in the air.

"You're going to end up with numbness..." he muttered to himself, watching her from the opposite rooftop.

Obviously she couldn;t hear him, but something made her raise her head and look outside the window while simultaniously changing the position.

Jason smiled despite himself.

His heart skipped a beat and sudden warmth spread in his chest.

Only for a second though, since he rememembered why he was here in the first place.

Look at her.

So fucking good.

So fucking calm and happy, while he-

fuck!

traitorous bitch.

Maybe it was her plan from the very beggining. Conspiring with Batman only to get rid of him, so they could both be free of the burdening presence of a man once known as Jason Todd.

Y/N...

Regardless of how sweet her name may have tasted on his tongue he would rather cut it off than fall down that rabit hole again.

He was cold as ice. Brutal. Cruel. Ruthless.

And it was not going to change because he saw her.

Not in the million years.

She was the reason of his fallout. She should have stopped him from going on that stupid mission. She should have made him stay, showed him she cared enough to keep him grounded.

It was all her fault that that after being captured all he could think about was how she was going to survive without him. How her heart would break into million pieces, instead of figuring out a way to free himself.

It was all her fault that he became the Arkham Knight. Cause inhumanity was equal with survival. And survival meant living. And living meant keeping his legacy.

So yes, he hated her.

He hated her, because every single thing he did and every little thing done to him was because and thanks to her.

She was the reason of him getting on top, but also the person responsible for his failure as a person.

She was nothing.

She was everything.

And for the first time since capturing, torturing and tranformation Jason felt conflicted.

Y/N...

His Y/N...

Not his anymore...

***

When some force made her stand up and come to window all she saw was a blink of metal on the rooftop. And since she spend half of her life with vigilantes, it was easy to realise that this must have been one of them.

But the silhouette of a running man couldn;t have been Dick nor Tim nor any other hero she would recognise.

And despite herself, she felt a shiver running down her spine.

Someone was watching her.

[shiro41]

Fluffy ears- Alastor

Summary: You always want to touch his ears but unfortunately for you, he rejects the very idea of it until he lets you.

Warnings: sub!Alastor, blowjob, brief mentions of a tentacle, drools, him in a rut?, dom turned sub reader, humping.

Note: this is my first time publishing a smut piece-- im anxious.

You always wondered how the fluff of the man's ears sit atop of his head, moving in sync with his moods and reactions. It wiggles, sometimes pinned on his head like a saddened pup, most times relaxed and stood proudly on his head. You wonder how they feel like.

"Please, Alastor?"

You put your hands in front of you, batting your lashes the best you could as you begged the overlord to let you touch his ears. His fluffy, fluffy ears. Knowing Alastor, he despises any form of physical contact unless he initiated first and touching his ears is a positive no. Which you got.

"Pretty please! I'll do anything!"

The smile on his face never wavered, staying the same size yet, his red spheres glowered with the slightest bit of irritation.

"My dear, touching my ears is a no. I'd appreciate it if you forget the ever thought of it."

He tapped your nose with his microphone, leaning down to your height and close his eyes-- smile still remaining. This resulted with a huff from you, growing equally as irritated and curious as he is. You watch him walk off, probably towards his radio station to broadcast yet another episode of pained screams of the unfortunate souls.

"I swear I'll get to touch it!"

You murmured to yourself, forming a fist as a rush of determination flowed through your ever being. You run to your room with the thought of his fluffs, ignoring the shaking heads of the staff.

"You think she'll ever touch 'em?"

Angel asked, turning to his cat friend who shook his head in disagreement.

Weeks passed and you still ask for the same thing to the radio demon, consistently begging for your hands to land on top of his head and within those weeks, he's been rejecting the idea nonstop.

"Come on, Alastor! Just five minutes!"

"No."

"Fine, four!"

"Still a no, darling."

Another interaction failed, it left you puffing smoke out of your nose from the forming irritation boiling in your blood. At this Point, the both of you find one another annoying. How persistent despite the many times of statements with the same content.

Of course, even the most patient man has his limits and it didn't happen until dozens of months passed where you took the advantage of the radio demon's vulnerable state of mating. He's a deer, it's perfectly normal to have these cycles once a year--maybe twice. You're not an expert with animals.

"Alastor, please let me touch your ears!"

You come to him again, noticing the relaxed posture yet the shaking of his grip on the microphone gave way to the battles inside him at the moment. He simply gave out a sigh, grabbing ahold of your hand and teleporting you to his room that's resembled the forest.

"Can I touch you now?"

A growing excitement evident in your voice, gasping as Alastor agreed and sat down on the cold ground covered with lush greens. His claws simply guided you to lay on his lap, like a father would comforting his child. They nestled and made home on your hips, occassionally brushing the skin beneath the clothes you wore as he lowered his head to give you full access to the red ears that heated due to the rushing blood and hormones he's experiencing at the moment.

"Be careful, darling. I can't promise a night of only receiving the pleasures of touching my ears."

He warned, reminding you he may not restraint himself from the animal instincts and growing need to reproduce. You, aware of the situation, nodded in understanding. So long as you can come to contact with the deer's ears, nothing is worth regretting.

You notice the first touch, it twitching in a manner so gentle you let a coo of compliments to him. The static noise of what you believe were small grunts and moans coming from Alastor deafened your ears, the pair only tucked more to his head when you massaged the base of it until the tips.

Soon enough, you find yourself touching his sensitive ears as he occassionally quivered underneath your touch, head burrowed in the crook of your neck and saliva running down his chin. His claws threaten to dig deeper into your hips, constantly restraining himself from hurting you physically. The statics have worsened, now sounding similar to purring yet, still with the whines and murmurs of encouragement from him.

He's melting in your touch.

"A-ah..please keep it u-up..! Kngh--"

He whimpered, feeling your hands travel from his soft ears to his small, hard antlers. It was rough to the touch, feeling like branches but the softness of the fur of his ears brushing up on your wrists was enough to get you going.

"Ooh it seems l-like I can't handle it a-ah..any further, chèr..!"

He breathed, moving your hips to grind on his crotch in a slow pace. You didn't mind the movement, opting to focus on your goal at hand and that is to savour every moment with the two pairs sitting atop his red head. Your skirt is pushed up until your thighs, barely showing the pink panties you wore today. It's patched with slight wetness in the middle, indicating your aroused figure in the situation you're in. Alastor underneath you was not far from your state, bucking his hips every time you brush your fingers against his head and occassionally travel to his cheeks and jaw before circling again on top.

The grinding didn't maintain its pace, now only moving faster the longer you went and the harder Alastor's hips thrust to meet your clothed cunt that's soaked with wetness resulting in his pants to stain too.

"Oh, Mon cher! I'm about to cum...!"

He breathed, continuing to produce whines after whines as you nip at the sensitive ear of his while the other's been massaged by your hand. You can feel Alastor drooling, the evidence being your discoloured shirt that's wet from his saliva, sliding down the cleavage of your chest. He whimpers with every meeting of his crotch coming to contact with your clothed pussy, almost rolling his eyes back as he feels himself getting closer by the minute.

"Oh darling, please let me cum."

He begged, eliciting a moan from you. Your stomach flipped with butterflies with every word of him begging you to let him have a satisfying release, you feel his tongue slither from your collarbone to your jaw, moaning while doing so. He's drooling a ton, almost bathing you in the process.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck--"

He chanted, voice echoing throughout the forest of his room like a broken record- statics incoherent and almost deafening until warmth spread from his crotch and feeling it on your pussy. He's creamed in his pants, the tent evident that he's been uncomfortably hard yet, you continue your abuse to his already sensitive ears, not letting him ride his release which caused a shriveled whine mixed with scream at the sudden sensation.

"Oh fuck! Oh, I can't take it! I can't take it, I can't- I can't-"

Again like a broken record, his voice transmitted a series of incoherent noise. The hands on his ears suddenly disappeared, cutting off the source of his scarce pleasure before he felt the belt of his pants being unbuckled and removed, not at the very least ashamed of the cum covered boxers once you pulled down the thick material of his pants.

You no longer towered him, instead kneeling in front of his sitting figure. The sight of the thin fabric that covered his obviously hard, wet cock made you moan. It was leaking with precum, pouring out of hid boxers before your tongue decided to take a taste of heaven in hell.

"Aahh..!"

A long drag of Ahs and a claw at the back of your neck has Alastor throwing his head back until his head collided with the tree behind. Your head pressed against the heat of his dick, rubbing your cheek affectionately against it as you look at those reds of his through the clumps of your eyelashes, eyes covered with thick lust.

His hand wiped the saliva off the corners of his mouth, now removing the stray of locks from your face and slowly taking out his angry red dick that's been begging to be released and aching to be touched. With its size, it slapped you in the process resulting with sticky cum kissing your cheek, the overlord repeating the process time and time again, swaying the hard organ across you and enjoy the sight of your tongue poking out ever so slightly, enticing him to fill it up with his thick cock.

"A-ah..ah no..let me savor this first, dear girl."

He tried to create dominance, continuing to tease you with his dick encircling your mouth but never in it. This resulted with an impatient whine coming out of your mouth, a hand coming to travel to your gaping pussy still clad in pink, wet panties but unfortunately, a tentacle wrapped itself onto your wrist- effectively preventing you from giving yourself pleasure.

A small sigh escape his lips, looking at your hazed lustrous expression before finally inserting his dick inside your awaiting mouth. The tentacle still was on your wrist and come to binding both of your hands behind your back, preventing you any self pleasure with the exception of his dick inside your mouth.

"Take it in, Darling..!"

He murmured, his hand massaging your aching scalp whilst his ruby spheres looked down at you with a hint of sadism that matched his mischievous smirk.

He could only hear your muffled whines as you tried to claw the tentacle that wrapped your wrist together, he could see the evident teardrops forming and sliding down your cheeks as your throat caved in and took the shape of his cock perfectly.

"Mhn, such a good girl...!!""

He praised, hand travelling from your scalp to your chin that's covered with a thin coat of saliva and cum. He's been so lost in pleasure that he lost track of time how long your mouth has been stuffed by his cock.

You feel the sudden pull of your head, forcing you to release Alastor's dick from your mouth that stood tall, thick and angry red from you sucking him like an infant to a mother for the past minutes. Alastor glanced at the streaming saliva that travelled down from your chin to the valleys of your perky breasts, mixed with his thick, white semen that you seem to not get enough of.

"I'm sorry about this, love."

[inky-duchess]

Etiquette of the Edwardian Era and La Belle Époque: Courting

This is a new set of posts focusing on the period of time stretching from the late 19th century to the early 20th Century right up to the start of WWI. I'll be going through different aspects of life. This series can be linked to my Great House series as well as my Season post and Debutant post.

I get asked a lot about courting, what's acceptable or what's off limits and how one may woo a prospective spouse. So let's explore how to win the hand and heart.

Meeting (not so cute?)

Firstly, it is really difficult to have a meet cute in the Edwardian era. Women and men are kept separate for most of the day, only really getting to meet at designated events: A dinner, a ball, a social event. Meeting in the park is a cute idea but a gentleman can't just approach a lady (or another gentleman) without being introduced by a third party, either a senior party or a mutual friend. However, an introduction at a ball is sort of like Cinderella's get up, it ceases to matter when the ball is over. Your gentleman must not approach a lady after that ball, he must be reintroduced. Once an introduction has been made, he can speak with her.

An Interest

When an introduction has gone satisfactory, a gentleman must make the first move by calling to her parents'/guardian's home and making a formal request to begin courting. Her parents/guardians must consent, usually leading to a short brief interview of the gentleman's family, his connections, his wealth (though in not so vulgar terms, they may inquire where he lives which is an indicator). The woman's opinion did matter, she could give her reasons for accepting or turning down the offer. When the interest is approved, the gentleman can start offering invitations.

Three's Company

Of course, just because the parents agree, doesn't mean the couple gets to be alone. The young lady will be accompanied by a chaperone either a lady's maid, a governess, her mother or another female relative. While the couple is together, the chaperone will always be a few steps behind or have them in sight. She's there to ensure that nothing more than a conversation happens. This is not only for her young lady's reputation but also to save the man from any claims of impropriety. The chaperone also serves as a sort of spy, gauging whether this relationship is worth pursuing.

Activities & Tokens

A gentleman may invite a lady out to lots of different activities. He can invite her for a promenade at a local park or gardens, out the theatre, visit her at home, invite her to galleries, to balls or to be his companion at sporting events such as the races, tennis matches or boat races. When visiting in the house, the gentleman would be expected to speak with all the family, be polite and courteous. This is how the family guages his suitably. The gentleman must provide transportation and funds for any excursion. Gifts are to be refined as well. Expensive gifts are considered vulgar and will likely be turned down. Small gifts such as flowers, books, cakes are acceptable. Gifts aren't as important as the time spent together.

Rules of Engagement

There are certain unspoken rules surrounding courtship that every gentlemen must follow for a successful courtship:

A gentleman should always pay attention to his lady, and not exclude her or cast her off for others

A gentleman never smokes in front of his lady nor forget to remove his hat.

A gentleman must always offer to refresh his lady on an excursion

A gentleman must defend his lady from any offense be it an insult or a scene unfit for her eyes or within an argument. Throwing in an apology for any offense can add a cherry on top.

However if she's the one giving offense, without any reason, the gentleman must seek to create peace, apologising on her behalf.

When walking, a lady will be placed in the inside of the pavement.

A gentleman should never spend above his means to impress his lady. Staying within his means is not only smart but a show of restraint and a glimpse of what life ought to be if they marry.

A gentleman should always offer his assistance when a lady is exiting a carriage or going up a flight of steps or carrying anything heavy.

If a man accompanies a woman to a ball, he's expected to dance with her on her first and last dances of the evening.

A gentleman must always make his intentions known and not string a lady along with no intention of marriage. He must never joke about his intentions or lead her on.

Marriage

Courtship usually promises marriage which is why a gentleman or lady should not enter into courtship unless they would consider marriage. Courtship may last a few months or a few weeks and while it is going on, both sides should consider whether marriage would be a viable option of either of them. Parents/guardians would be consulted, the gentleman must make his intentions known to her father or nearest male relative before approaching the lady and popping the question. A courtship that doesn't end in marriage is seen as a failure and may damage the reputation of both parties, leading people to wonder what happened and who is to blame. For example is a perfectly eligible gentleman will not marry a perfectly eligible lady or she turns down his offer, people will usually leap to the conclusion that there is something lacking.

LGBTQIA+ Courting

Gay people have always been here. They have courted and they have loved. Whilst it was illegal in this time in many parts of the world, love did prevail. (fun fact: lesbianism wasn't illegal because nobody wanted to explain what it was to Queen Victoria). The good thing to know is that courting whilst gay was likely easier in this period. Whilst there were restrictions and rules for straight couples and chaperones haunted their every step, none of this would happen if two people of the same gender stepped out together. Two gentleman going to the opera together or dining at a restaurant or attending a ball together (dancing in public was unlikely) or two ladies promenading in the park or attending a concert would not be examined like a courting couple. They would have more freedom to move around but of course, with legal impediments PDA was kept a minium. Whilst they wouldn't be allowed to marry legally, there was little stopping couples from moving in together. Nobody would say much about two spinsters sharing a home or two bachelors crashing together

[b0r3dtod3ath]

LITERALLY anything for Art PLEASE I need him so desperately. Maybe something with an argument that leads to fluff? idk

Thanks for the request!

The living room is illuminated by the soft glow of lamplight, casting shadows across the walls. You pace back and forth, your frustration reaching its peak. Art, your boyfriend and a professional tennis player, sits on the couch, his tennis racket leaning against the armrest, his expression tense. 

“I just don't get it, Arthur! Why do you always let your coach push you around? You never stand up for yourself!”

"It's not that simple," Art says defensively. "She knows what's best for my game."

You stop pacing, almost speechless. "Your game? You have been losing for the past months! What about you? And don’t lie, you don’t even enjoy it anymore! When was the last time you did something for yourself without worrying about what your coach or your sponsors might think?"

"You know it's not that easy," he responds, frustrated. "Tennis is my career. I have to do what Tashi says to succeed."

Your voice softens. "I understand that, Artie. But at what cost? You're constantly sacrificing your own happiness and well-being just to please others."

He sighs. "It's not just about pleasing others. It's about fulfilling my dreams, about making something of myself."

"It’s her dream and not yours! You know it. She just uses you to achieve what she’s not able to! Remember when we used to talk about having a family, about living together? You always wanted to be a dad! And now, you don’t even spend half a day at home."

Art looks at his hands. "Maybe I sometimes forget that there’s life beyond the court. Tennis has been my life for so long."

You take a step closer, standing between his legs, you stroke his hair as he wraps his arms around you. "I know. And I admire your dedication, I really do. But you have to remember that you're more than just a tennis player. You're a person with feelings and desires that matter too. And I don’t want you to quit because of what I said. I know it's hard, Art. But you don't have to do it alone. I'm here for you, always. I just want you to be happy and not devote your life to someone else’s dream."

He smiles weakly, bullying you even closer. "I'm lucky to have you. I'll try to find a balance, I promise. I will call Tashi, tell her I want to retire soon. I have been thinking about it but I guess I didn't have the guts. I just want to spend time with you. Well, maybe still occasionally play tennis."

"Whatever you want to do we'll figure it out together."

You don’t move from this position, in comfortable silence, the tension slowly melts away as you hold onto each other. In the warmth of each other's presence, Art finds peace and stability.

May 1, 2024

[a-simple-imagine]

Bigender asian with pronoun fuckery

synopsis: you're a rising star at godu. just cracked the top ten but a budding relationship with jordan li may bring everything crumbling down

pairing: jordan li x fem!reader

words: 5.2k+

a/n - not sure how i feel about this but i am putting it out there. if this gets enough attention, I can work on another part that goes a little deeper?? I use all pronouns for Jordan but mainly they/them

WARNINGS - swearing and drug use

a groggy groan slips past your lips as you bury your face further into the gentle embrace of the pillow. it is early. too early. you have no clue what time it actually is but whatever the case may be, you weren't ready for the day to start just yet. it takes a moment to realise you're alone in this bed. you hadn't been when you fell asleep. it doesn't bother you too much though. they're probably just getting ready. that is until you hear a curse word muttered quietly; perhaps an attempt to not disturb you or maybe they just wanted to hide their frustration. "what are you doing?" your words half muttered into the pillow.

"rankings are out." that was it? rankings? you sometimes forget how competitive they can be. it's not like you're not interested. you've wanted that top spot since freshman year. alas, golden boy holds that spot and you'd never be a pretty blonde white boy if you tried. this semester you've been working extra hard. Everyone knows you're in the best chance of scoring a city contract if you can break the top ten but the seven? they want the best of the best. sure it's not impossible to be lower and also become part of the team, the deep managed it, but that was an anomaly. most supes just end up as walking advertisements for vought. and as much as you may enjoy the occasional acting class. you weren't here to end up on some CW show or a Netflix special. you were gonna make it into the seven. you were gonna prove to everyone that you are one of the best.

"who cares," you mumble, rolling onto your back and spreading your arms out wide.

"oh, so you don't care that you're now second."

"come back to bed." you urge. a silence seals the room until your brain catches up to what it just heard. did they say second? as in second place? as in one spot away from first? you didn't mishear that. sitting up, you eventually spy a feminine presenting Jordan sitting at her desk, illuminated by the blue glow of their tablet. their short bob falls to one side. a perfect backdrop for such a pretty face "Are you fucking with me?" they don't bother responding just shove the tablet out in your direction. grabbing it you see your school ID photo with a massive '#2' next to it. you blink a few times. scroll down a little. refresh the page. but again it's still there. it was real. "fuck"

"My thoughts exactly," Jordan reacts. you glimpse at them wondering what that comment means. it could merely be a jest or a reflection of their current mood. you take a moment to look at the rest of the list in search of their name. they were no longer top three. you found them sitting nicely at number five. double fuck. you had taken their spot. they're still top ten which most would be happy with but not Jordan. tossing the tablet aside, you drop back against the bed. letting your eyes fall closed. "we have class in like an hour."

"I don't need to go to class. I'm number two now," you press.

"not how that works," A dramatic groan falls past your lips, pulling the covers up over your head. bed sounded better than a morning lecture. you wish they would just join you or leave you be. "get out of my bed." Jordan huffs after a moment. "we're gonna be late." you don't move. you frankly don't care. "if you don't hurry up, no breakfast."

"fucks sake." you whine, emerging from beneath the darkness of the duvet. "fine. I'll let you buy me Jitterbean."

"thought so," they offer you a tight smile. you could never say no to a free treat before class. "chop-chop."

Drink in one hand, pastry in the other, you're feeling brighter as you stroll into class. Jordan trails behind you. they'd been usually quiet on the walk over. you put it down to all the attention you were attracting today. couldn't even walk across campus without people asking for pictures or saying hi. you weren't sure you liked it just yet but for right now it was fine. when you spot cate you offer a scrunched up smile which she quickly returns. you and cate had been friends since day one. something just clicked. "there she is," cate starts as you approach your usual spot in class. "the girl of the hour. you're literally all anyone can talk about."

"aren't i always," you tease.

"we're going out tonight"

"are you asking-" you begin as Dean Shetty strides into the room. guess brink was out today. "or telling me?"

"telling," cate's smile quirks up before she turns to focus on the class. guess that was the end of that conversation.

you linger by your desk as everyone else filters out of the room after class. Dean Shetty requested a word. you can't imagine what it's about. surely she isn't that bothered by your attempts at chatting through her lecture. you offer up an awkward little smile as you push off the desk you were leaning against; slowly making you way across the room. "so what have I done wrong?"

"you mean other than talking through the entire class," you internally cringe a little. maybe she was bothered by all the whispering. she watches you for a moment before continuing. "it is nothing like that. don't worry."

"then why am I here?"

"I just thought we should have a little chat." your brow furrows. what did you and the dean of an entire university have to discuss? was this about your ranking? was she about to tell you there had been a mistake? "I believe congratulations are in order- such an extensive jump in ranking, you must be proud."

this felt like a conversation that could have been an email. "sure. thanks." you shrug. you're not really sure what to say. of course, you're proud. you were the second highest ranked student in a school of exceptional kids. "is that all?"

"no," her head shakes a little. I wanted to make sure you understand the gravity of the position you're in." when you don't respond she decides to just continue. "being a superhero is about more than just your abilities. it's also about how you present yourself. people care about you. they wanna know what you're doing. who you're hanging out with. One minute you're taking a picture with a nice girl you met at a party the next you're fighting nazi allegations for hanging out with a white supremacist. do you get what I'm saying?"

you shrug. "don't hang out with nazis, got it."

"I'm saying you need to look at yourself more like a brand. Be careful about what you say and who you spend your time with. you're the sum of the people around you."

"I know. I took branding." everyone knew how this worked. being a good person only took you so far and if homelander was anything to go off, that doesn't even matter that much. it's all about how you market yourself. it's about how many followers you have. how much attention you can get. inevitably, how much money can you make for Vought? Dean Shetty smiles but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"you do want to be number one, correct?" you nod a little. "I want to help you get to the top but only if you wanna help yourself."

"what about Luke?"

"he is far from my concern right now." what did that even mean? "so?"

you hesitate. you did want this but you weren't entirely sure what you were agreeing to here. If Dean Shetty can help you secure first place though, maybe it was worth the risk. she was an expert here. should you even bother questioning why the sudden interest in you? "I want this."

"Good," her smile seemed more genuine now. "I know you can go far, just keep in mind what I said."

"I will," you start edging towards the stuff you left on your desk. "thanks."

"also try listening during lectures. I'm sure you and Miss Dunlap can talk some other time."

"Sorry." with that you practically run out of the classroom before she can continue talking.

it's a particularly chilly night smushed in the back seat of an old car. bright lights zoom past the window and music blasts through the speakers. you're not really paying attention to the noise around you. it's a mess of meaningless conversation. Dean Shetty's words play over in your head. She certainly would not approve of this little venture out into the night past curfew; what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. Jordan eventually pulls your attention; in his hand, he holds two small red pills. you don't really question it before popping one into your mouth. a second for later. tonight was gonna be fun or if nothing else you can abuse enough substances to pretend. the secret location is just a massive warehouse. on the outside, you'd think it any old thing. inside you find massive tanks of rainbow fish, long sweeping curtains, jester-themed masquerade masks and other eccentric decor. it is the most random selection and yet it works so well. creates the perfect balance of sexy and mysterious but inviting. you find yourself in a booth with your friends all around. "so how's being number two going for ya?" Andre asks. "feeling the pressure yet?"

"I don't know," you shrug. "people are weird."

"what do you mean?" Luke questions.

"Dean Shetty said some things to me after class."

"-I come bearing gifts." Jordan appears, now in their feminine form with a couple of drinks followed by Marie. "courtesy of the young gentleman at the bar."

"What did Dean Shetty say?"

"it doesn't matter." you shrug it off. "two will never be one right."

"has it not hit yet?" Jordan wonders.

"i know what it's like to suddenly have all this pressure on you but try not to think about it much," Luke reassures you. "just keep doing what you're doing. you've got this."

"my guy. you're supposed to be happy here," Andre leans forward slapping his hand against your leg. "we're out here celebrating you, dude. cheer up."

"I'm plenty happy," you grumble sinking further into your seat. you appreciate their attempt to cheer you up but it's honestly not needed. you're happy to be in second place even with all the newly founded pressure; just a little confused about what was expected of you. "ecstatic even. let's talk about something else."

your head feels fuzzy. nothing feels real anymore. but it's good. great even. you feel so fucking good. like you've rid yourself of every lingering thought that wrapped itself around your body. you're light. you're free. the shimmering blue of the giant fish tanks is so mesmerising; you almost want to climb in but instead, you watch. colours morphing and shifting before your eyes. back and forth. back and forth. you jump a little as something touches your shoulder. "here you are." their words seem distant; muffled even. "you good?" you nod a little continuing to stare at the fish. two hands slip around your waist and connect in front. you feel their body press into yours from behind. you know it's Jordan. you know they're masc. You know them well. their smokey cologne. the way their body feels around you. the subtle differences between both forms. taller. bigger. firm. you let out a content hum. it's a rarity for such open affection. "what are you doing?" whispered in your ear.

"Just watching the fish,"

"why?"

"do you ever wonder what it would be like to be a fish?" you wonder softly. "to just swim around all day without a care in the world… no complex family systems. no pressure to be the best. just… swimming and pretty colours." their chuckle is temperate. affectionate. it almost seems like they somehow get closer.

"you're fucked, huh?"

"I'm good. I'm great," you respond. they just chuckle again, planting a soft kiss on your shoulder. your relationship with Jordan was hardly one of romance. you have slept together. a few times actually. and some kind of feelings are there; at least for you there are but you're not dating. you're just… having fun. maybe you want more. who knows? you don't. would they even want more? probably not. you'd like it. maybe. doesn't matter. they make you feel warm. safe even. and that's all that really matters.

"shall we get you a drink?" you nod a little. "yeah?"

"yeah," you repeat nodding more eagerly. a dopey smile settling on your lips as you let your head fall back; nuzzling against him. "something fruity, please."

"let's get you something fruity," arms vacate your waist replaced with a hand in yours.

"bye fishies," you throw a wave back. "say bye Jordan."

"Absolutely not." they interlock your fingers before leading the way back into the turbulent crowd of the club.

"you're no fun." you groan playfully. weaving through the mass of people back towards the bar, you come across cate. as you approach, Jordan let's go.

"you found her then," shouted over the heavy bass and mess of voices.

"she was alone staring at the fish tanks," they respond.

"the fish were really pretty," you contribute with a bright smile.

"you gotta stop running off, silly."

"but the fishies-"

"I know they're pretty but still," cate continues. "do you wanna come dance?"

"hmmm… yes." you respond brightly. "jordan's gonna get me a drink. jordan get cate one too."

"yeah Jordan, get cate one too." cate repeats playfully. her hand slides into yours and she pulls you towards the dance floor. it's a lot of blurred colours as you sway and move alongside the blonde. she wears a playful smile and smells so good. really sweet. like freshly baked cookies. "are you good?"

"mhmm,"

"you sure?" it's so loud out here. there are so many people around you. it's hard to pick up what is being said.

"I am so good, cate," you respond loudly. "I mean definitely fucked but yeah. are you good?"

"yeah," she nods. "I'm-" the rest of her sentence is impossible to comprehend.

"what?"

cate places her hands on your shoulders bringing you to a stop as she leans in extra close. "i said i'm proud of you."

"you're starting to sound like my mom," you joke. she playfully hits your arm. "but thank you."

"i think you could actually take luke's spot."

"i definitely can." you declare proudly. "dean shetty offered to help."

"really?" cate seems shocked by the idea. "why?"

you shrug. "i'm gonna be in the seven one day." you yell loudly. nobody cares. everyone is being loud. it'd drowned out by everything else. cate stares at you for a moment before letting her smile return.

"fuck yeah, you are," cate shouts. your smile brightens. fuck yeah, you are.

your head pounds with the weight of your bad decisions. maybe you went a little too hard. Nausea settles deep in the pit of your stomach. you think you're gonna throw up. you don't. you breathe deeply through it. a long groan forces its way past your lips as you roll onto your back; stretching out your limbs as far as they go to very little relief. A pain radiates from your left leg. god only knows why. you're just a little achy. how did you even get here? the last thing you remember is dancing with Cate; having fun.

"she's alive," the voice catches you off guard. it sounds like… wait. your eyes finally focus on the person in the room who definitely wasn't your roommate. that black hair. that pretty face. the effortless expression of too cool to be here. jordan li is still in the exact same outfit as last night. why were they here? "how's our newest celebrity?"

there were many ways you could answer but your brain could only come up with. "shitty."

"I bet," they approach the end of your bed, holding out a glass of water. "here."

you slowly push yourself up into a seated position. trying desperately to ignore the intense pressure building in your head. "why are you here?" you ask, accepting the glass and taking a long, big gulp.

"Jordan stayed all night," your roommate, Beth, interjects. By her tone, she was not happy with your newfound company. "would have been nice to know."

"I'm allowed to have people in our room, Beth." you hand the glass back to Jordan before falling back down against the bed. rubbing your eyes with your thumb and forefinger. "I wanna die."

"tell me next time." Beth continues to argue. "instead I wake up to a stranger in our room."

you groan loudly. this was too much talking for your poor delicate head to handle right now. "I'm right here, guys," Jordan insists. "I literally spoke to you last night."

"I'm making a point." your roommate argues. "I'd like a heads up."

"gooooood! okay- sorry," you groan. you really don't care this much

"Okay, well, I gotta go," Jordan hums. "wasn't supposed to stay this long just wanted to make sure you're cool."

"I'm fine. go," you wave a dismissive hand as your eyes flutter close. "thanks for getting me home."

"any time," their weight leaves the bed and you roll onto your side to face the wall. pulling the duvet closer around your body. "I'll text you- bye Beth."

"bye Jordan." you hear the door click and an uncomfortable silence fills the room. it's preferable to the loud conversation that just happened. it's a relief to your head. you just want to go back to sleep. "they must really like you."

urgh. you don't want to talk anymore. "yeah, jordans cool."

"no, I mean, they like you," Beth continues on. you bury yourself further into your cocoon of pillows and duvet. "stayed the whole night just to keep an eye on you. I said it was fine- you'd be fine but they insisted."

Jordan insisted? just how fucked up were you that Jordan li of all people would stay the night just to make sure you were okay? you guys were good friends but most of the time they were either bullying you or treating you like a child which is like a subset of bullying you. you remember them wrapping their arms around you as you watched the fish last night. you've seen Jordan's softer side obviously but yeah. "we're just friends, dude."

"All I know is that Jordan li, as far as I've seen and heard, would not do that for just anyone. they're into you."

"sure. fine. whatever." you growl. you just wanted this conversation to end. Jordan was cool but if you think about this for too long your head is gonna explode. right now, sleep was what you needed. "Jordan Li is in love with me. I'm going back to sleep." it's hard not to think about what Beth suggested. that Jordan was into you as more than just a friend and occasionally fuck buddy. is that something you should talk about? What if Beth was wrong and you bring it up and it makes things super weird? you can't handle that. you have like a million classes together, you would never be able to escape them.

it was a bright sunny day in the quad of Godolkin University. you sit in the courtyard. a laptop, criminology textbooks and a water bottle spread across the table. you have an essay due in a few days. you had sat down to work on this essay multiple times with a beautiful blank document and many hours on TikTok to show for it. "hey," your TikTok time is interrupted by none other than Jordan Li. you had not seen them since that night or morning. you hadn't really spoken either. you weren't avoiding them by any means. you were just busy and they hadn't seemed too eager to talk so. "hey," they say after a moment. "how's the essay going?"

"so great," you flash a smile. "I've written so much."

"that good, huh," they joke awkwardly taking a sip of their coffee. you just hum in response. you need to get this done. no time to add Jordan to the list of distractions. after a few moments of silence, they speak up again. "I was hoping we could talk

"Can this wait? I really need to get this done."

"I guess…" Jordan trailed off. you look at him for a moment. he seems disheartened by your request.

"what's up?"

"it… doesn't matter. don't worry." a small smile settles on their lips. "I should go."

"you sure?"

Jordan pushes up from their seat. "I'll see you later."

that was weird. definitely something you need to come back to later when you're not working on a deadline. for now, you had an essay to, at the very least, start.

"Have you spoken to Jordan recently?" you ask Cate as you slide into a booth at the on-campus Vought - a - burger. the smell of deep-fried food hangs heavy in the air and you know damn well this table is probably gonna be sticky as hell. "I feel like they're ignoring me."

"What makes you think that?"

"the fact that they're quite literally ignoring me. I've text them a couple times and nothing. even in class, they can hardly look at me." you reach into the bag to pull out the food; placing it on napkins in front of you. cate hands you your drink in exchange for her order. "I feel bad. they tried to talk to me the other day but I wanted to get my essay done."

"they've seemed fine to me but I've been working on a project for my hero management class." Cate shrugs. "is this about what happened the other night?"

"what happened the other night?" you questioned, popping a fry into your mouth. it actually tasted fresh and salty; guess you came at the correct time. you hate it when they're all soggy.

"I don't know if it's my place to say- you were pretty high."

"did I do something… bad?" you didn't remember that night but you never imagined you would ever do something inappropriate.

"no. not bad." you can tell she regrets bringing this up; whatever this is. torn between wanting to help and not overstepping boundaries. She is about to continue when two girls approach the table. freshmen you presume. you've never seen them before.

"Can we get a selfie?" the taller of the two requests. you frown a little.

"we're actually trying to have a private con-"

"it'll just take a minute," they turn around and hold the camera out, snapping a picture before you have a chance to react. "thanks." they scurry off almost immediately. you'll probably find yourself tagged in a picture on Instagram later. it had been happening a lot recently; so much so that you had to turn notifications off.

"the fuck?" you share a confused look with Cate. "people are so rude."

"they're just excited. you're basically a celebrity to them," Cate chuckles.

"do you think Jordan hates me now?" you wonder bringing the conversation back to Li.

"it's probably just because of the rankings."

"you mean because I took their spot?"

"Jordan has always been pretty intense when it came to rankings. they've wanted that top spot for as long as I've known them." Cate explains, hiding her mouth as she shoves more food into her mouth. "must suck that you just jumped to two and have the dean in your corner no less." you never really considered how Jordan must be handling all this. you knew they'd be a little upset but this seemed extreme.

"I never really thought about that," you sigh softly. "should I apologise?"

"I don't know," Cate resumes, biting the head off some fries. "if you think it'd help."

"I don't know why they didn't just tell me that when we first found out," you frown a little. "they were a little distant but they seemed cool when we went out."

"maybe you should just try talking to them," Cate suggests, picking up her drink. She takes a swift sip before continuing. "if it's about rankings or the other night- I don't know. only Jordan does."

"what happened the other night?" you ask again.

"ask Jordan."

"I'm asking you, Cate."

"you were just a lot and said some things."

"Cate!" you huff, falling back. you know Cate well. you know when she's avoiding something. "I know you're being cryptic so I give up on it."

"it's just not my place. it's between you and Jordan. I don't wanna get in the middle." Cate presses sharply. "did you get your essay done?"

"no," you shake your head. "I ended up getting an extension- how am I supposed to speak to them when they're ignoring me?"

"i don't know- can we please talk about something else?" Cate pleads.

"Sure," you hum softly. taking another fry you dip it into some sauce. "let's talk about how I'm about to fail criminology."

you text Jordan that you're coming over. It wasn't a question but a statement. no option to refuse. you needed to sort this out and being direct was the best approach. did every inch of your body buzz with anxiety as you made your way towards their dorm room? yes. but it beat constantly thinking about every little interaction you had with Jordan in the past week trying to figure out exactly what you had done wrong. the only blank spot was that night and Cate had unintentionally convinced you that you had done something absolutely awful. maybe you told them you hate them or invalidated their identity in some way? fuck. you swallow hard staring at their closed door. you shake out the nerves before knocking. knock. knock. knock. and the door swings open to reveal Jordan. "hey," they hum before retreating into the safety of their dorm. shutting the door behind you, you step inside the all too familiar space; you had been here a great many times and yet today there was a weird vibe. it felt foreign. cold even. "so what did you wanna talk about?" for a split second you almost forgot why you were here. you turn to Jordan who is sitting on the couch, a laptop thrown off to the side now. your eyes fall to the homelander Vought-a-burger toy that has somehow become a staple of this room. leader of the seven. currently facing major allegations. "you good?"

"Are you mad at me?" you blurt out. "is it about the rankings? I know they mean a lot to you and I basically took your spot so I get it if you're mad. it's a little unfair because I've always wanted this too but like I get it." your rambling but you can't help yourself. you need to get this all out as quickly as possible before your brain catches on and you chicken out. "And I'm sorry about the other day, I just really needed to get my essay done. I ended up getting an extension because I was so stressed out about it, I just couldn't start." you can't bring yourself to look at them. "or if I did something shitty on that night out. I'm sorry. it was fucked-"

"whoa dude, chill out," Jordan ultimately interrupts. "you're talking a lot." you dare a glance at them. their face is pretty neutral so you have no clue what was going on in their head. "what are you even asking?"

"why are you avoiding me?" you ask. "I've clearly done something wrong."

a heavy sigh leaves their lips as they fall back against the plush fabric. "I'll admit I was a little annoyed with the rankings at first but I'm working on it. this is like a really big deal for you."

"so you're not mad at me?" you sound so pathetic. an even bigger sigh leaves their lips. you're not sure what that means but nobody sighs that heavily for good reason. they push to their feet, crossing the room towards you.

"I'm not mad at you," they say softly as they approach. for a second they hold your gaze as they linger close but then they flicker away. "I'm just… confused."

"About what?" they take a step closer. so close. too close. their hot breath pricks at your skin but you don't dare move away. you almost feel drawn to them.

"Is this okay?" they say quietly.

"Are you only doing this so we'll stop talking about it?" their head shakes just a little.

"no," their hand graces over your neck and up to the bottom of your jaw. Their thumb gently brushes your skin, sending a chill down your spine. there would always be something about Jordan Li that made you melt inside. when they're here and so close, you almost forget all your worries. the way they look at you. like you're the only person in the world. a feather-like embrace is enough to send you spinning. "I don't think I can just be your friend anymore," whispered against your lips. "I… like you too." they pull back.

"Jordan,"

"I need you to say it- I need you to say it sober so I don't feel like a fucking idiot," say it sober? when did you say it in the first place? maybe this was what Cate was talking about. the thing you couldn't remember. you admitted to having feelings for Jordan. fuck.

"I…" you trail off, the words are caught in your throat. this is gonna change everything?

"It's cool," they declare loudly, letting their hand fall as they away. "I get it."

"no Jordan-"

"no it's fine. you were fucked. it didn't mean anything- I shouldn't have said anything."

"Jordan," you say louder, reaching out for their hand. a deep regret fills your stomach. you liked Jordan. they meant a lot to you and you were throwing it all away because you were scared; terrified even. if this doesn't work out then you ruin everything. there's no coming back from this.

"don't," they yank their hand away. "please don't. I don't want your pity."

"It's not pity."

"I don't get you." they huff. "you're all over me and then you want nothing to do with me. you tell everyone you like me but then… nothing? it's… confusing-"

"Jordan just- stop please," you say loudly. "I… like you, okay?"

"don't say things you don't mean."

"I mean it," you say a tad more confidently. "I like you." you try to reach for them again. they let you take their hand. " i don't know what it means exactly but I do… like you… too." you squeeze their hand slightly. it's warm and fits so perfectly in yours. they turn back to you with a smile. a small genuine smile that fills you with butterflies. they really did mean so much to you.

"so… now what?" they ask.

"I don't know." you pursed your lips, shrugging your shoulders. "but I do have to go."

"Seriously?"

"I have a meeting with Dean Shetty." you express. "I'm sorry. She wants me at some dinner so."

[lovelybrooke]

Letters Never Sent (Yandere Malleus x Reader)

---

A letter wrote by Malleus Draconia, never sent to the object of his desires. Why don't you open it up and see what's inside...

masterlist

---

Dear My Child of Man,

I am writing this letter with no intention of you receiving it. 

Maybe this is "silly" as you would describe it, but I find myself slowly losing the restraint on my emotions as the days go by. My heart fills with unfamiliar feelings as I think of you, mixing together into an ever present sense of desire that makes me near shameful. 

I find myself thinking of you always, from the moment I wake, to the moment I fall asleep. You seep your way into my dreams, where for but a moment I can relish in the fantasy that is you. I dream of your soft voice, your comforting gaze, your addicting presence. You are so captivating that I often forget I'm dreaming, until I awake with an aching feeling I've come to know as longing. 

I long for you, I've learned.

I long for your voice, for your gaze, for your presence. I long for every essence of your being to be directed towards me. Some may call me a fool, scoff my way and paint me a madman, but I am nothing without my love for you, so it bothers me none. I often wonder if you think of me as intensely as I do you. I have to admit it is exciting, the mere thought of you reciprocating my feelings warms me so. It is intoxicating, even as a fantasy, simply imagining a life with you is enough for me. Somedays, I imagine gifting you with an unending dream, one where it is just us, away from the rest of the world. Away from duty, and work, and anything else that could distract us from each other, from our love. We would be together and we would be happy until the end of your days, and even after you're gone, I would continue loving you. 

You were always so opposed to the idea, immortality. I remember the look on your face when you realized just how long I had lived, the sadness, the remorse, the pain. At that moment, it was not something I feared, more accurately not something I thought much about. It was not until I met you that it dawned upon me that at some point, you would leave this world, and that it would keep moving. Time would progress, people would grieve, but they would move on, plants would sprout and grow and wilt and eventually grow again, but I would remain stuck. Stuck with my dreams and fantasies. Stuck with the memory of you so present it would be like you never left in the first place. 

Even now, I fear what the world would be like without you. Not much fills me with fear, my Child of Man, but I've found myself scared lately. The thought of you leaving, of going back to your home, and never returning scares me. It is almost comical in a way, I find myself dreading the thought even while writing this. You should be proud, how easily you are able to terrify me is an excellent skill, one many would love to possess. 

You were my first true friend, did you know that? I have Lilia and Silver and Sebek, but I've always been treated as above them, as something untouchable. You were the first person to treat me like an equal, to bless me with the wonderful feeling of friendship. I often find myself racked with guilt, why should I desire more from you when you've already given me so much already? It is selfish, to seek out your love so desperately when I've already taken so much from you. You are my friend, and I should value our friendship above all. 

But that is why I fear, because my love for you goes beyond the boundaries of friendship. I would even say it goes beyond the boundaries of love. It is a longing so deep I wonder if I'll ever be the same again, all while knowing that I am too engrossed in the feeling that is you to ever go back. A longing so deep I yearn with desire unexplainable to man, desire so profound and raw that I am sure you have changed something within me. A longing so deep the closest word to describe it is obsession, but even obsession doesn't explain the hundreds of letters, all unset, pilling away, all centering you. 

Fear, love, what do distinctions matter if every single one of my thoughts center you. 

I have no desire to send this letter, my Child of Man, but I hope with every meeting, every passing day, every time we are together, you are able to feel the love I hold for you. I hope my longing, my devotion, my never ending, boundless obsession is clear to you, my love. 

Because I fear what will happen when I run out of paper.

---

A/n: here's to me hoping that this will break my writers block.

[97keanu]

desperately wanting john wick to whisper filthy things to me in russian

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳I love this idea nonnie ! I have decided to do a list of phrases I've found + what scenario John would say them to you, disclaimer: I do not speak Russian, but I've tried to go beyond using just Google translate and the like, but there still may be discrepancies, please forgive ʚ♥︎ɞ

Tags/CW: rope bunny, Dom!JW, Sub!Reader, bratty!reader, bdsm-esque, reader tries to Dom JW, reader on top, teasing, denial, dirty talk.

Зайка моя ("My bunny"): John calls you this the most, he loves the idea of you being his little bunny, and he also likes that he can get away with calling you something so cute because you have no idea at first what he's saying. Light teasing from you when you find out he's been calling you his "bunny" for so long:

"Oh, so if I'm your little bunny, does that make you the big bad wolf?" You say with a smile, teasing John for his pet name for you.

"Oh yes, yes it does..." John plays along, moving close enough to you that he grab you from behind and pull you close.

"Don't forget that wolves bite, Зайка моя..." His teeth nibble at your neck before dragging you, who's giggling from all the attention, off to the bedroom.

мое солнышко ("My sunshine"): John calls you this after sex the most, or only in the most tender of cases. He really does believe you are his own personal ball of sun. He hasn't felt this happy in so long, and upon meeting you, he knows that you are the light in his life. John doesn't mind if you know it, either. He calls you his sun in English as well, but when you two are cuddled up, the night settling in, John will sleepily call you "мое солнышко".

моя принцесса ("My princess"): John uses this one almost exclusively when you're being a brat, typically in bed. He calls you this half sarcastically, half because he really will do anything to please you.

"What are you going to do, make me, John?" You tease him when he tries to command you. You really shouldn't have done that.

"Careful, моя принцесса, you know what happens when you tease me." Johns voice is trying to be gruff, but he also loves seeing you have fun. Only after a few more bratty comments does he finally show his princess how she really needs to be treated.

шлюха ("whore") / шлюшка(diminutive "little whore"): John uses this one often, forgetting himself while he's fucking you. You know this one too well, and when he says it, you love how degrading it sounds. He tells you most while he holds the back of your head roughly down on his cock how much you look like a "шлюшка" to him. He eventually teaches you how to say it as well:

"I won't let you cum until you tell me what you are..." John has his hands skillfully playing with your pussy while you're all tied up in a little bow for him on the bed. You know what he wants, but don't want to give in. His hands move just perfectly so you get so close, but stop just before then. Your moans echo through the room.

"I'll wait, we can play this game forever, love." John knows you know this to be true, he works his big hands inside you harder now, and you can barely sputter the phrase out.

"Yes, please! I'm your шлюха, your шлюшка!" You cry out as John finishes you, your body writhing in it's restraints. John looks so pleased with you for saying it correctly.

"Good girl." He says as he begins to help you calm down.

Для меня ты ведешь себя как маленькая шлюха ("You're acting like such a little whore for me." Literally: "To me, you are acting like a little whore.")

John says this when you're particularly submissive to him. Sometimes you're a bit of a brat who wants to act like she doesn't love being John's little rope bunny, but now you're practically begging him to fuck you. You're riding his thigh, he's fully clothed but you've taken your panties off from under your dress and are making such a mess of his nice dress pants. He watches you, never revealing whether or not he will be the one to please you tonight.

"Для меня ты ведешь себя как маленькая шлюха..." He says while rolling his eyes, taking a sip of his drink and watching as you desperately try to get off on his thigh. He finally caves and puts his glass down on the side table, lifting you up and taking you to the couch where he can properly fuck you.

я хочу быть сверху("I want to be on top."):

You spend some time searching up the perfect way to tell John that you want to be on top tonight. You know he will be coming home from a long day and want to do something to please him. The brat in you also knows that John will be thrilled at you attempting "superiority" over him. When John finally gets home, he is immediately taking off his suit, ignoring how dirty and blood stained it is. He grabs you as soon as he sees you, pulling you to the nearest surface he can to fuck you, which happens to be the couch. As John's devouring your body in kisses, you say it.

"я хочу быть сверху..." You whisper and John pauses, looking at you in disbelief for a moment. First, he is impressed by how well you said the phrase, then his eyes darken with a hint of mischief.

"So you want to be on top..." He says slyly, licking his lips like a hungry wolf. "So be it, let me see how well you think you can dominate me."

"You mean it?" Your eyes light up, half of you didn't expect him to agree.

"On one condition, if you fail to fuck me correctly, I will tie you up and show you how it's done..." His voice is deep and husky with desire, and you know he's setting you up, but the idea of him tying you up later doesn't sound like a bad thing, not really. You nod and begin placing yourself on top, slowly easing up there.

You hold his cock still as you softly let it enter you, and John already has a wicked gleam in his eyes. You keep going, placing your hands on his chest and trying to ride him as if you're the one dominating him, but even at your best on top you're still submitting to his cock. John grabs his tie from the floor and you already know what he is going to do, so you place your hands out in front of you. He ties your hands up, then takes your hips and fucks you from underneath so hard the neighbors can hear it. You realise you can never dominate him, but that doesn't stop you from asking to be on top from time to time after this.

Я ХОЧУ ТЕБЯ ВНУТРИ МЕНЯ("I want you inside me.")

You learn another phrase, this one more your style. John is teasing you once more, his cock hard and slipping through your wet folds, but never entering you. You're whining, grinding your hips and bucking to try to invite him in, but your arms are all tied up behind you. He has your breasts tied as well, bringing them to perfect roundness. John reaches out and plays with your nipples, plucking at them and pulling just how you like, still not letting you feel the fullness of his cock. You are at your breaking point when you remember the phrase.

"Я ХОЧУ ТЕБЯ ВНУТРИ МЕНЯ...!" You finally moan, your back arching and your toes curling from how badly you want it. John pauses and smiles.

"Oh, you're such a good girl for asking like that." he says, before plunging his cock deep inside you, giving you what you want. You breathe out, finally able to be fucked hard like you wanted.

[michaelsgavin]

I still have vivid memories of watching Rage Quit at midnight in a room I shared with friends in junior college, trying my best not to wake them up with my laughter. The year was 2012. My whole body shook as I tried to stifle what could've been a howling laughter, and I'm pretty sure my friend on the bunk bed above me woke up anyway. The next day, I went through the entire playlist for Rage Quit.

A year after that, I moved across the globe for my degree. I was alone, homesick, and miserable -- plunged into unfamiliar territories and culture, I had a hard time making friends. At my worst, I was severely depressed, lying in my bed for hours, not caring if I was alive or not. I only survived because of the friends I made here, in the rtah fandom, who held my hands through my loneliness.

I think my story, though the details may vary, is a lot of other people's stories, too.

I'm sure we all have complicated feelings about RTAH's death. I do. A lot of its decisions and fuck ups have caused me great pains and I firmly believe this company's death is long overdue. But it has also brought me so much joy as a teen and allowed me to meet so many of my dearest friends -- the bad never quite overshadowed the good, just breathing side-by-side, in grief.

Farewell, Rooster Teeth. You helped me through the lowest points of my life and you gave me some of its best -- laughing at the Surgeon Simulator Rage Quit, waiting for the next Immersion episode to drop, building a whole new universe of Fake AH Crew with the fandom, voting for the IB Podcast win another podcast award, making 20 different gifs of the same moments between Michael and Gavin.

I wish we could've parted in better ways. I'll never forget being 16, staying up until 2am with my friends to watch a dude eat 12 lava cakes for a donation to a children's hospital. Thank you, in spite of everything.

Cue Good Riddance by Green Day.

[agirlwithglam]

hard work? at least put in the work!

as my mom once said to me:

"forget hard work! at least do work"

please, for some of us, talking about "hard work" is far away for us. so forget about working hard. what about just working? not working hard, just doing at least something for your future, yourself, your family. or are you okay with being a huge disappointment to others and yourself?

just doing the bare minimum at least for yourself! you don't have to go over the top or make it so hard for you. at least put in the bare minimum so you don't have to live the worst life. okay?

doing at least 5 pushups + 5 squats a day

studying a bit for exams

saying one affirmation of self-love a day

if someone talks to you, don't try to run away from the convo.

all this isn't hard. its just what every human being should be able to you (not talking about anyone with disabilities, thats a different case). okay?

the first step to this would be to reduce the amount of screentime everyday. i don't care if its "educational" or "self improvement", thats all bs. whats actually gonna make a difference is that instead of tricking your brain into thinking you're doing something or telling yourself "i'll work my hardest tomorrow", you don't work your hardest today but you work.

putting in little effort is still putting in effort.

i know that a lot of you are gonna be like "no but i believe in myself that i can put hard work into something i care about!" so okay. good job for believing in yourself, love that. but... are you actually gonna do it? or are you going to continue to sit and watch "educational" "self improvement" videos because it distracts and tricks you into thinking that this is hard work?*

*don't get me wrong, of course if you used to be a person who scrolled a bunch of nonsense, the first step would of course be to change what you consume into something better. but there comes a limit where you have to actually get up and put in the work. simply changing what you consume isn't all you need to do. theres more steps to improving your life. just like when you start with a new skill; in the beginning you may start with something very simple and easy for you to do. but once that becomes your "comfort zone" (as in very/ much easy to do), you need to move to something that challenges you more. otherwise, you never grow.

sure, believing that you are capable of doing it is certainly the first step of almost anything, but believing isn't just enough. you gotta actually do it. you don't earn my respect by "believing you can do it" (what are you, a toddler?) but by actually executing your plan. and for most of us, it turns out that our definition of "hard work" is actually just watching "self improvement" all day.

so what am i implying here? :

if you believe you can actually do the hard work, then do it. do not waste another second on self improvement videos (remember; those are just meant as a guide, a starter. a place for advice). if however, you find that you finally realise that hard work isnt just watching self improvement videos and having to actually do something, then shut up with the hard work. at least do work.

xoxo, vanilla.

[mrinafria]

Is Seon Jae corny?

One of the biggest charms of Lovely Runner for me is how it portrays a romance that is youthful, goofy, foolish and yet touches your heart in the most sensible and mature way possible. It doesn't forget it's a romcom at heart and serves us just that, so going into the show expecting a different genre is just unfair to the show (and yourself because you are the one setting yourself up for disappointment imo).

I'm not a big fan of immature childish romance devoid of any substance but that is not what we see here, despite Seon Jae being 19yo (or 20 or 34 yo). There's youthful anticipation, excitement and emotions but somehow Seon Jae's character (and Im Sol's character too, although she's always been 34yo in the main narrative) manages to transcend the notion of age and time with what he feels for Im Sol, the extent of it and the way he acts when it comes to her. Romance today is calculative and is often done in moderation, which is not necessarily a bad thing, because it is essential to learn to love ourselves too as we love someone special, but for both Im Sol and Seon Jae, loving themselves is also intrinsically connected to loving each other. Im Sol learns to appreciate life through loving Seon Jae, Seon Jae loves Im Sol because he appreciates what life has to offer.

This scene, for instance. I've rambled about this in the past too. It always warms my heart to see how, in all the timelines, he never gives up on life itself due to Im Sol not reciprocating his feelings/not remembering him. The guilt/heartbreak, longing and lovesickness are palpable in all versions of Seon Jae across all timelines but every time, he chooses to move forward in life (despite his heart being stuck in time with his Sol-ah), embracing everything life has to offer him. One of the things that becomes evident pretty early on in Lovely Runner is Seon Jae loves life. He may struggle sometimes but he doesn't think of it as a chore or burden to live on. He has things he cherishes, people he hangs out with, his dreams, aspirations, pain and struggle outside of Im Sol. He is not a pushover, he has stuff going on, he has a life. And he's not someone who'll casually say things like "I'll die for you" to anyone just to impress and get them to date him. Such grand statements don't usually make much of an impact on me as a viewer either but here, it somehow just works? Perhaps because we know he loves his life and wouldn't give it up no matter how hard things get, except for when he, his first and only love, part of his soul, is in crisis--tested by fate and time and death--and he is adamant about not letting it mess with his happiness, just like he wasn't ready to give up swimming despite Im Sol's warnings and his existing injury. That is the only time he'd make an exception: choose to live a short, worthwhile life, than live a long one devoid of any happy memories or love. It is not his childishness. In fact, he is doing what many of us can never, ever do. And perhaps that's why it doesn't sit well with some of the viewers; he complicates how we define love, happiness, fulfillment these days.

And come to think of it, he doesn't really say he'll die for her. He says Even if I die trying to save you, it's okay: it's a sad thing, Sol-ah. it's painful, yes, but it's okay. I might be worried for the remaining 14 years of my life, but that's because I'll have very little time to love you, to be in this feeling, to cherish the moments I make with you. I'll be sad that I won't see my first grey hair with you or be with you in so many of your big milestones in life, but it's okay. I'll try to make the most of whatever we get, now and tomorrow.

His sadness and heartbreak comes not from not being able to live his life to the fullest, but not being able to live his life with her. That exact same sentiment is conveyed by the final 2023 Seon Jae too, who doesn't even remember Im Sol or any of his old timeline versions and yet says the same thing.

The 2009 Seon Jae doesn't say 'I WILL die trying to save you'; he says 'if', there is a conditional. Even when he's aware of the impending doom, he doesn't give up on his life, on the 'if'. The guy with that face that has accepted a death that is yet to come, with eyes brimming with tears, with a heart determined to live hoping for an 'if' until then… when this guy makes such cheesy claims about his love and death, it's no longer an empty exaggerated promise. It hits a lot harder and leaves me momentarily breathless. That claim, stemming from the inherent human instinct to just want to be happy, and that non-calculative, selfless, pure kind of love, is exactly the thing I signed up for. That proclamation—simple, corny—is pain wrapped in momentary happiness, and my heart sinks, thinking just how fast he had to grow up in that short span of moments.

Ryu Seon Jae is like a North Star—he may not shine the brightest, but he shines bright enough in the same way, consistently, in every timeline we see him in. He is the star you could identify even in the sea of a million stars. Because that's how distinct his persona is. He may be corny and a loser, but he is corny and a loser exclusively for Im Sol, not in his life. That's the best kind of corny and loser one could find.