#it’s one of his favorite stories to tell

[ivoraic]

JJK Men when they're OBSESSED with You.

featuring: Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Choso, Sukuna, Toji

a/n: just some fluffy (and not so fluffy) headcanons of the jjk men being smitten for you. enjoy ♡

Nanami Kento

Pretends he’s not obsessed, but it’s so obvious in the way he adjusts his entire schedule around you. (You’re the one thing in his life that doesn’t follow a schedule, but he can always make time for you.)

Knows things about you that you don't even remember telling him. Your childhood pet’s name? Your favorite snack from five years ago? The exact way your face twitches when you try not to laugh? He doesn’t just notice, he catalogs it in his mind.

Fixes problems before you even notice them. Something at work stressing you out? Magically resolved. Bills piling up? Suddenly paid. Annoying guy won’t stop texting you? He handled it. (Should you be worried...?)

“I wouldn’t call it obsession. I’d call it making sure you’re taken care of.”

Geto Suguru

The smoothest obsession. He’s calm, calculated, and charming, but know that everything he does is meant to draw you deeper into his orbit.

Lowkey stalks you… but in a way that seems completely normal. Oh, you’re going to that cafe? He just happens to be there too. Oh, you’re walking home? Well, what a coincidence, so is he.

Has a way of making you feel like you’re the only person who understands him, like you’re his one exception in a world full of disappointments. Always treats you like you’re a rare, delicate thing.

“I wouldn’t say I’m obsessed. But I would say that I’ve considered every possible way to make sure you never leave my side.”

Choso

The softest obsession. Absolutely no self-awareness about how deep it runs. He just thinks it’s normal to want to be with you all the time, to always position himself within arm’s reach, to instinctively follow you whenever you leave a room.

Textbook definition of loyalty. If someone so much as raises their voice at you, he’s already on his feet, ready to throw hands.

Physically incapable of ignoring you. You call his name? He’s already looking at you. You text him? His reply is lighting up your phone screen within seconds.

“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t I want to be around you all the time?”

Sukuna

Denial, denial, denial. “I don’t give a shit about you.” Meanwhile, he’s threatening to level entire cities if someone so much as looks at you wrong.

Unhinged protectiveness. If you get hurt, he takes it personally. Like, seething about it for days, going on a rampage, killing everyone in his way until he finds who it was that hurt you.  (Nobody gets to touch what belongs to the King of Curses and expect to keep their lives.)

Leaves marks on your body - bite marks, handprints, anything to make sure you know you belong to him.

“Be grateful. You’re the only human I’ve ever tolerated this much.”

Toji Fushiguro

Possessive as hell, but in a lazy, confident way, because he knows you’re his. No need to fight for you when he’s already won.

“Where do you think you’re going?” said with a smirk, as he hooks an arm around your waist and yanks you onto his lap.

Teases you constantly but never lets anyone else get away with it. Someone makes a joke at your expense? He’s already cracking his knuckles.

Doesn’t say he’s obsessed, but you can tell from the way his touch is always on you. A hand at the back of your neck, his fingers brushing against yours, his lips grazing your ear when he talks.

“You’re mine. End of story.”

Gojo Satoru

He memorizes everything about you, down to the way your voice sounds when you’re tired, the exact scent of your shampoo, and the way your heartbeat changes when you’re nervous.

Throws his money around just to keep you comfortable. "It’s not spoiling you, it’s basic human decency," he insists as he books an entire first-class cabin just so you can nap peacefully.

Acts ridiculously nonchalant, but the moment someone else shows interest in you, he gets so petty it’s unbelievable. (Flashing his six eyes while standing behind you just to glare at the person, making you wonder why every stranger you talk to always hastily ends the conversation and runs away.)

“Obsession? That’s a strong word. I just happen to think about you every waking moment of my day.”

(Psst by the way, if you liked this there are more gojo fics and drabbles waiting for you on my blog! 🤭)

[thatnerduknow98]

I know Mary knows I’m not Jake, but I can’t figure out why she knows or why she’s not telling the people who can do something about it.

That said, I don’t think she knows how I became Jake or what happened that resulted in me replacing him.

It’s kind of a long story. I also haven’t learned all the language I need to tell it accurately, so please excuse my inability to explain certain moments.

I am an alien from another planet. I cannot figure out what my planet would be called in your languages. Truthfully, it is physically hard to speak your language for us, so I stay mostly quiet, and practice speaking English to Mary’s cat, Mr. Oranges, when she is at the grocery store.

I was part of a team of my kind observing humanity from a spaceship resting outside Earth’s orbit. Your kind won’t see it with your instruments because we blend it in with the stars. I think the word in your language is camouflage. We also emit no heat.

We got fixated on Mary’s town because it is smaller and its people all had very specific roles. The simplicity of it helped us get a basic understanding of how humanity can function in a society. Paul farmed most of the land and sold the crops to Patty who turned it into grain and sold the grain to Robert and Barbara who turned it into dough and then bread at their bakery, who then sold the bread to the rest of the townspeople to eat, for example. Everyone seemed to have one or two main contributing roles in the community. Except for Mary.

Mary specifically stood out because she had many roles. It seemed like every month she had a new role and oftentimes had multiple roles at once. Mary did everything: watching and teaching the towns smallest children, gardening and selling her produce, tending to the sick, providing cleaning and housekeeping services, making things like clothes and art. She also assisted with other functions of society in menial ways, like bagging items at the grocery store or helping sort out their waste. They refer to their waste as trash or recycling, which my race doesn’t understand because in your words, we recycle everything. If Mary had a primary role, it was taking care of Jake and their home.

We heard Mary tell Jake once about a new term she learned about after speaking with a visitor while cleaning the town’s inn once. I don’t remember the name; but it sounded like a medical term, and we gathered it was assigned to types of humans who had trouble being still and always needed to have something to do.

Jake’s primary role was to build things. He worked with various materials, like wood, concrete, stone and brick (though I still don’t know the difference between them all). He was very skilled, but we gathered the work hurt his body a lot.

My team and I decided we could solve this problem by visiting the town with our medicines and placing them in his favorite drink when he’s not looking to help him consume it. I am the smallest of my team, so we thought I would be the most able to sneak around and complete the task.

I took our big ship’s smaller pod down to Earth, intending to land in a park nearby Mary and Jake’s house. I was halfway there when I realized I took the right handed pod instead of the left handed pod. Our species dominant side is so dominant we craft our equipment to cater to both sides. I picked the wrong side.

This meant I had to turn my seat around and manage all the controls with my left from right inverted. You have to understand, the way my species is designed, we can not simply use our other side. Our other side has no muscle development. It can’t do anything other than hold things and maybe move up and down, if we train it to. I don’t want to scare you, but we would be kind of freaky looking if you actually saw us in our true forms.

Anyways, I crashed into a house Jake was building and the whole thing collapsed on top of him. My team saw the encounter and immediately came down to resolve the situation. We restructured the house and healed Jake’s body, but he wouldn’t wake up, and we couldn’t understand why.

My team was mad, to say the least. We aren’t supposed to get involved with our observations anyway, and we already broke that rule, and my actions had the potential to bring our 8-year study in this area to an end. Then I had an idea.

Our kind can do this thing where we can attach to and inhabit minds of certain species. We weren’t sure if we could do it to humans, but when I suggested it my team captain said the equivalent of “Sure, why not?” with a flippant tone. I believe the word in your language is sarcasm.

Which I took literally. It was successful.

After a couple of hours of trying to pilot Jake’s body by continuing to build parts of this house (of which I absolutely mixed the construction materials up) the sun began to set and it was time to return to Mary. My team promptly returned to our spaceship.

When I opened the door, I set Jake’s keys on the table nearby like Jake always did. I took Jake’s muddy boots off and left them on the rug, like he always did. I put my jacket on the coat hangar and took the pack of smokes (I think the actual word is cigarettes?) out of his pocket and set them next to his keys, the way he always did. Then I went straight to the shower, like he always did.

This process was really neat. I got to observe humanity by being one of its kind. The only thing that threw me was that normally when I pilot another body, I can understand that body’s thoughts and emotions. Jake’s body had none. I did not understand why.

When I got out of the shower I caught a sensation I had never experienced before. I realized this was the purpose of a nose or a tongue, maybe both. My kind does not experience this phenomenon.

I followed the sensation into the kitchen where Mary was cooking something. We knew the humans cooked lots of different kinds of foods, and each food had different nutritional properties that needed to be consumed to be in good health, but we couldn’t figure out why they would make the same foods in different ways.

Mary stood aloof with her spatula, stirring around three different foods in the pot. Two of them she grew in her garden, and one she bought from the butcher. One was a round, brown food she diced up and the other was a long green food she cut into smaller pieces. She sliced the food from the butcher into smaller round pieces as well.

“If you’re getting a beer, will you grab me the butter from the fridge too?” Mary asked me.

Jake always grabbed a canned drink out of the metal box that kept them cold after getting out of the shower. I assumed the box was the fridge, and the drink was the beer, but I was unfamiliar with the butter. I hadn’t practiced speaking yet, so I nodded and opened the fridge. The door was heavier than I thought it would be. The cans were in a drawer on the bottom. I grabbed one for myself. There was so much food in the fridge it was hard to logic which one could be the butter.

Mary got tired of waiting.

“Are we out?” she said as she came over. “No, it’s just behind the milk.”

She grabbed a brown tub with an image of a field on it from behind a container of white liquid. The latter must be the milk, I thought.

Normally, Jake would open his beer and go sit in a big chair in front of the tv. We assumed this was to entertain himself and rest his hurting body.

But I was curious about the sensation, the names of the food Mary was cooking, and the purpose of butter. So I sat down at the kitchen table and watched.

Mary was taken aback by my presence but said nothing. I wondered if my decision was drastic enough to blow my cover.

She plated the food and brought it to me. I nodded thanks, reminding myself to practice speaking so I could actually thank her next time she cooked for me.

Mary took her plate of food into the room where she keeps her artistic materials. This was not uncommon, as I’d observed her many times making pictures of the food she cooked with various materials, like paint and pastels, though again I wasn’t sure what the difference was.

I took the fork and picked up a piece of the brown stuff, which was white on the inside. The heat from the meal melted the butter on top. Jake’s body perceived heat differently than mine, like it could cause him pain, so I waited for it to cool before trying it.

The sensation through Jake’s nose was pleasant, but the sensation in his mouth was even better. I tried the green food next.

It tasted different than the brown/white food. It was sharper almost. I don’t have the English words to describe it. Its texture was harder to chew than the other food, which fell apart much easier.

The food from the butcher was different than both of the produce items. It was also quite a pleasant experience.

I promptly ate all the food on the plate and put the plate in the sink. Mary usually cleans the plates after eating and then puts them in a machine that I think cleans them again? I am not sure what its purpose is.

Jake did not usually help with these daily tasks. Suddenly I understood why Mary was sometimes frustrated with him. But he was in pain, and I don’t think Mary knew that either.

I washed the plate and put it in the machine, which was empty. There was more of the meal still in the pan on the stove, and sometimes Mary would put it in a sealed container in the fridge, but sometimes she came back for more, so I left that part alone.

I decided I wanted to experience Jake’s chair and the tv. That’s what he would usually do next. I noticed the orange creature at the back door that they called Mr. Oranges. Sometimes Jake let that creature inside. I let it inside.

Mr. Oranges usually ignored Jake, but I think it knew I wasn’t him. I was thankful it could not speak English. I had seen Mary gently pat the creature, so I did too, and it let out a sound I’d never heard before, then rubbed its whole body on Jake’s legs. I felt like it was telling me it’d keep my secret.

I sat in the chair and Mr. Oranges jumped on top of me. It sat on Jake’s chest and made that sound again, which I realized this time had an accompanying vibration through its body. I grabbed the remote and turned on the tv.

My team was right. Tv was for entertainment. It told lots of stories, some of which I think were real historical events and others I think were made up. Jake liked to watch the stories about space and science. I tried watching a couple of a show called “Star Wars” and decided that is not at all what the universe is like.

Mary came back out and put her plate in the sink.

“Did you wash your plate?” she asked surprised. I nodded. “You’re letting Mr. Oranges lay on you?” she added with more surprise.

I think that was when she realized I wasn’t her husband, but merely in his body. It wasn’t until later I realized I’d opened the fridge door with my left hand. Jake was not left handed.

Your "friend" has been replaced by a doppelgänger. You aren’t sure where it came from or what it is under the disguise. But you know one thing; you prefer it over the original.

[inuiiwonderland]

BABY

The boys invite you over to their house but now suffer with their moms/siblings/parents showing you their baby pictures<3 gn reader!!!

-

Ace trappola

He leaves for ONE second. One second and he can already hear your small giggles coming from his room as he hears the voice of his older brother with you.

Oh gross don’t tell me he’s flirting with you!

Ace thinks as he quickly shoots his way up the stairs. The boy brows were furrowed as he slams the door wide open. He was ready to cuss up a storm like a sailor and tell his brother to fuck off and leave but froze once he sees what you’re holding.

Oh

OH!

You were the first one to break the silence as you throw your head back as a laugh escapes your lips.

“Oh sevens you were one ugly baby!” You say. Trying very hard to keep in your giggles as you look over at the picture. His brother cackling right next to you.

“Oh totally! He looked like a dried up raisin” His brother says in between laughter.

“HEY! No I didn’t!” Ace can feel the tip of his ears heat up as he marches right towards you two.

“These pictures say otherwise” You flipped to the second page and quickly slapped your hand over your mouth.

“Oh sevens…” Ace quickly tries snatching the book from your hands but his brother stops him before he could.

“Oh my! Is that-“

“Yep! He couldn’t go ANYWHERE without it!” In the picture, you can see THE ace trappola standing with a wide toothy grin on his face as he holds onto an equally adorable bunny stuffed animal.

“Oh this one is my favorite!” He points to a photo of baby Ace dressed up as a strawberry as he cried his eyes out. You can see his brother standing next to him with a big smile on his face as Ace looks like he’s about to pop a vain. The next picture shows him all calm and smiley as he’s given his favorite bunny stuffed animal.

“Aweeee ace! You were so adorable!!” You squeal. With his brother now laughing and wheezing, Ace was able to immediately snatch the photo album from your hands as his whole face was a bright cherry red.

“Okay that’s enough and get the hell outta my room jack ass!”

-

Deuce spade

He should’ve known something was up when it suddenly got quiet. He carefully walks back to his room with a tray in hand filled with cookies. The moment he opens the door he lets out a loud shriek as he watches his mom excitedly showing you his baby pictures.

“M-mom? What are you-“

“This was him at 2 months! Isn’t he cute?”

“For sure! Aw look at those chubby cheeks!”

“Oh and this was on his 6th birthday party! Look at those dimples!” She says as you squealed in awe. The two of you continued to flip through the baby album as deuce turned redder and redder by the seconds.

“Aww you were such a cutie deucy!” His face instantly goes red as he sets down the tray on the table.

“Oh oh! And look at this!”

“Is that a bunny onesie?” You squeal out. He immediately gulps knowing the embarrassing stories behind that onesie.

“Yes! I bought it for him for the white rabbit fest! He loved it so much he would always wear it to bed or when we go buy groceries. He cried really hard when he outgrew it though”

“I-I did not! I was just sad that’s all! I did not cry!”

“Oh! Look at this one! This was taken on his first day of school! I still remember it like it was yesterday. After taking that photo, he wouldn’t let go of me! He didn’t want to go in at all and we had to have three teachers come and drag him inside as he cried his little heart out! I remember feeling so terrible but I had to go to work”

“Okay that’s enough! No more baby photos and embarrassing stories!” He says as he snatches the book away.

“No wait please I want to see more!”

-

Sebek Zigvolt

It’s been 5 minutes already and you still weren’t back from the bathroom! You told him you would be quick and now he’s slowly growing impatient from your absence. He gets up and storms out of the room as he makes his way to the bathroom.

“Human! You have been in there for almost 10 minutes! Is something wrong?!” Silence. He frowns before knocking again.

“You know we have to study for that Alchemy test this upcoming week!”

Again nothing. Just as he was about to knock again a loud laugh and giggles could be heard from downstairs. And those giggles sounded eerily familiar.

Wait

That’s your giggles!

In a speed of light does he make it downstairs and to the kitchen where the laughs and giggles were coming from.

There stood you and his father going through sebek baby photo album.

“W-what are you doing?!” He screeched.

“Oh sebek! I was just showing your friend your baby photos!” His father said cheerfully. The half fae turned bright red as he was ready to yell but was stopped the moment he heard his name being called from behind him.

“Sebek Zigvolt. What did I tell you about yelling in the house?!” There stood his mother. Brows furrowed as her arms were crossed over her chest.

“Anywho! Look! This was him when he first came into this world!”

“Awww! I guess he’s always been loud from the looks of it” You say. Chuckling at the photo in front of you.

“Oh don’t get me started. He was crying up a storm and I swear I could feel my eardrums burst” His mother sighs as she walks over to the sink. His father smiles as he looks down at the album.

“Yeah he was a crier. Oh look at this one!” He shows you a picture of 4 month old sebek staring wide eyed at the camera. Chubby cheeks and big ole eyes.

“Awww! You were adorable!”

“Oh this is my favorite one!” His mother points at one where you can see sebek wearing a knight costume. From the looks of it it must’ve been Halloween. He wore a proud smile as he held up his sword. You coo at the photo as they both continued to show you more.

“Oh look at this one! He saw a horror movie for the first time and there was a scene where the father sacrifices himself for his kids and he burst out into tears! He wouldn’t let go of his dad for weeks!”

“Enough! Let’s go back to studying!” He says as he grabs your hand and pulls you away from his parents and the photo album.

“Wait no one more !”

-

This was an old draft from like a year ago🌝 I just decided to finish it now����

I FULLY BELIEVE DEUCE HAD DIMPLES JUST LIEK ME! IDC WHAT YALL SAY!!!!

[theoneandonlysourcandy]

PLATONIC DOEY X YOUNG TOY READER

Art creds: Paper-Starz (if the name is wrong pls tell me)

I need more brotherly doey x reader dude HES LITERALLY MY BIG BROTHER ☹️ in this the reader is 5-7 years old, and this is whenever the hoppy vhs tape took place

🧸- Doey had noticed fairly quickly that you acted younger than most toys. It made his heart absolutely ache thinking of how young you might’ve been, going through so much pain. He made an effort to look out for you, just in case he was right about his suspicions.

🧸 - He hated that he was correct. When out looking for supplies one day, in one of the offices, he had found a document about you. Kevin was furious. But, Matthew had managed to calm him down.

🧸 - He’d want you to stay in the safe haven most of the time, not wanting you to have to face any more horrors. He can be a bit protective of the other toys at times, but with you, that’s cranked up a bit.

🧸 - If your a bigger body? He’d convince the others to not have you scavenge with them.

🧸 - He’d definitely love reading books to you and the others, and in his free time would help you with reading too. His favorite is definitely adventures of the word wizard.

🧸 - Sometimes he’ll think about how the toys had to live before he found them, and it makes him really sad, so it HURTS thinking of what you might’ve lived like. Someone so young and all alone, hurting so much-he has to force himself to get distracted by something to stop thinking about it.

🧸 - Maybe you and doey would play shop together or something at that little lost and found thingy, if it’s just a pretend thing the toys made up.

🧸 - might let you wear his hat if you ask nicely. MIGHT. I headcanon that he absolutely loves his hat.

🧸 - Jack would like to play with you, and read stories together.

🧸 - Matthews definitely the one helping you with reading, and the most devastated by the document.

🧸 - Kevin would try his best to be more gentle around you, but sometimes he just can’t help it.

[kwondotcom]

hana— in our first ever conversation, i divulged to you that i've thought of elevatory at least once a week since i first read it. the reason why it took me a bit of time to do a proper rb is because i had annotated it on my second read, needed to take a min to breathe, and ended up only revisiting it now while clearing drafts/my tbr. so, here it is now on read #3!!! THIS WILL NOT BE THE LAST READ (THREAT)

tl;dr one of my favorite pieces of soonyoung writing. the premise in itself is probably the most unique i've seen in a long time, and it just drives me so insane to see such a well-done exes plot. spoilers under the cut. <3

WHAT A KILLER FIRST LINE. an actual art form, really, to have u hook line and sinker in the first sentence!

knew as early as this part that i'd be in for a wild ride. it's very telling of a post-break up sentiment, and it's a stellar set up for the MC's mindset.

there's a lot to love here. the touch of "nine now, but who's counting", the call back of "God hates you" and just. soonyoung's trying to make the most of it. oomf. because of course kwon soony would jump at this opportunity, would try to make small talk w/someone he's been no contact with. it's just his style, and it leads in well to the rest of the story. the next paragraph is actual pure gold: "- sad puppy, you've nicknamed it," following the description of soony as an open book. vicious and accurate read. goes really well with the descriptiveness of this:

(aha. i'm on to you, MC. you can say what you want, but at the end of the day, you can still read him. you still know him.)

i'm more than a little obsessed at a tactless soony + jeonghan, of course, inadvertently being the one at the crime scene.

the first part is already a punch in the gut in itself— the acknowledgement of their differences, serving as a bit of a gravity that explains how the two have acted so far. think the wrong side of magnets clinking against e/o lol. but what amazes me is how hana manages to manifest is a couple of sentences later. soony who winces, who is still obviously pained by his ala-taylor swift the moment i knew moment (i don't even want to think too much of the forgotten birthday scene or i will cry) vs. mc who's 'not sure why [you're] trying to reassure him'.

i said i don't want of the birthday flashback, but it must be said. this fucking line? shot to the chest and i'm in love with the shooter (hana). sighs.

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] [EXPLOSION] “OH MY GOD” [BABY CRYING] “WAAAHH WAHH” [YELLING] “HELP MEE” [POLICE SIRENS] WEE WOO WEE WOEOO [YELLING] [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG… MY LEG!!’ [BABY CRYING] “AHFUCKK SOMEONE HELP US” [REPORTER REPORTING] oh, this got got me. something about the intimacy of a name, so deceptively simple, and soony feeling the weight of the moment :") man.

this is my favorite flashback scene (and the eventual conclusion 'tried so hard/neither of you tried hard enough) for a lot of reasons. on one hand, there's something my friends and i call the burden of knowledge, which is something i feel jeonghan is vouchsafed in this scene. he's the one who hears out why MC wants to break up with soony, who talks her through it. "little things add up." my god, what a simple truth. part of why i adore elevatory so much— aside from being a study of form, an entire story told in a one-act that no one else besides hana could pull off— is because of the way it aches. it doesn't cut, like some stories might. it doesn't scar. it's just... a dull, familiar sort of throb. like a phantom pain. i think that's the best way to put it. cuts scab over. scars heal. but aches are forever, and this is exactly what that fic does. some old forgotten breakup, some bitterness at the circumstances, some truths packaged in a kwon soonyoung fanfic that remind you right, my pain of that-time-we-don't-talk-about is somewhat universal. it's comforting, in the same way that it's damning, to realize that there are people who know y/our pain that same way. to read it back, though— to have it glaring up at you— is just. a one-of-a-kind experience.

the lead-in to the breakup is devastating, because it really is that, sometimes. you realize love in the tender mundane, which means you can also loss love on a random weekday. "... after realising you had no idea where he kept his cereal bowls" is just an absolute gut-punch. like, ah. this is a life we're supposed to be sharing, a small fact i would know if it weren't for all the distance and time apart (what kind of girlfriend doesn't know where their boyfriend keeps their cereal bowls?!) and it just. little things, as jeonghan had said. also: something so cruel in the breakup starting, and consisting, of MC just saying soonyoung. this, after present-day soony is jolted when MC says his name? yeah. abso-fucking-lutely brutal, man.

won't even try to act like i can be coherent about this when i started crying actual tears the first time i read this passage. even now, my eyes are skipping over the words in an attempt to guard my heart against that impending pain. like, hey, hana. what the fuck! reminds me of a poem, which i'm attaching here. "but i remember our kindness that day, / when it longer mattered."

i can tell you exactly when i first read this (second week of january -ish) and when i read it a second time (earlier this month; the aborted annotation attempt), and i just wish you could've seen the look on my fucking face/the gasp i gusped when it ended with this. i rate about it a lot already in this little post, but it bears repeating: pulling off a one-act/one-setting piece is no easy feat, and you do it with such finesse. the un-chronological order of the flashbacks, the glimpses of their present selves and how they've changed/how they're still like their past versions, and this ending. absolutely bowls me over. hana, you have talent that bursts at the seams. elevatory is living, breathing proof.

You were once deeply and irrevocably in love with Kwon Soonyoung, and it’s incredibly hard to avoid that fact when he works literally two offices down from you. It’s even harder to avoid when you’re stuck in a broken elevator with him for hours, and he seems determined to dissect everything that went wrong three years ago.

⇢ pairing: kwon soonyoung x f!reader

⇢ genre: angst, fluff, exes!au, lawyer!au

⇢ wc: 5.6k

⇢ warnings: minor alcohol consumption, lots of flashbacks

⇢ a/n: early happy new year!! this is my gift to u all <3 thank u to @haologram for hosting this collab and for just being alive. and thank you SOO much to ally @lovetaroandtaemin and em @gyuswhore for beta'ing i appreciate u both endlessly 💗

as part of the don’t hate, litigate! collab hosted by the wonderful @haologram

SOMETIMES IT TRULY feels like God, or the stars in your skies, or whatever the hell is controlling your fate down on this measly earth, hates you.

Sometimes it truly feels like this indefinite being is determined to deal you the worst set of cards, and this – this trumps all. Being stuck in an elevator with your ex-boyfriend sounds like the beginning of a shitty romcom, except it’s not. It’s your life, and it’s been your life for the past eight minutes, since the metal box you stepped in ground to a creaky, noisy halt halfway between the sixth and seventh floor. 

And it takes eight minutes before Soonyoung sighs resignedly. “Are you just going to ignore me forever?” 

Forever, you think, is your least favourite word. There were a lot of things you thought you’d have forever, and one of them is standing right next to you.

You swallow thickly. Your reply comes measured and clipped. “For as long as possible.”

When he speaks next, you can hear the attempt at a forced smile in his tone. “Well, you kinda just failed.”

You stay silent. If anyone had told you five years ago that Kwon Soonyoung would be begging to talk to you and you’d be ignoring him, you would have called them crazy; and yet, here you are. Ignoring him like your sanity depends on it, because actually, it does. So for the past eight minutes – nine now, but who’s counting? – you’ve barely spoken a word. You’re both stuck; the recovery team can’t make it for two hours at least; and God hates you, basically.

Soonyoung’s trying to make the most of it, and you’re not letting him.

He says your name, ever so softly. “Really, though. How – how have you been?”

It’s weird, going from years of no contact to working together. It’s been a year since Soonyoung joined your company, but it hasn’t become any easier. Not when he’s such an open book, so fucking easy for you to read. Every time you cross paths, he gets this look in his eyes – sad puppy, you’ve nicknamed it. Now is no different.

“I’ve been okay,” you say finally, stiltedly. You’ve never been able to resist that face, and you’re pretty sure he knows it too. “What about you?”

The silence is painful, but the way he says fine stings a little bit more. You know when he’s lying, and he never used to do that to you.

“So…” He shifts his weight awkwardly, huffing out an uncomfortable laugh as he gazes intently at his shoes. “This is weird, right?”

You match him with an equally uncomfortable smile. “The weirdest.”

“Our longest conversation after forever,” he says. “But I wasn’t expecting it to go like this.”

You cock your head to the side, fixing him with a questioning gaze. All hopes of ignoring him are sailing out the hypothetical window. “How were you expecting it to go?”

Soonyoung looks up at you with one of those embarrassed, endearing smiles. “Better.”

There’s a pregnant pause, and then – “You know, Jeonghan calls you the one that got away.” 

He’s always had a habit of dropping things like that on you; things that leave you a little winded.

“That makes it sound like I escaped,” you say, with an ease you don’t feel.

Clearly, Soonyoung doesn’t feel it either — he exhales heavily. “Maybe you did. Escape, I mean.”

You snap your head towards him, eyes almost owlish in your surprise; “You’re not serious.” When he doesn’t say anything, you continue haphazardly, “Soonyoung, that’s not — there wasn’t anything to escape from.” 

Your ex-boyfriend looks miserable. Avoids eye contact, staring fixedly at his shoes with a dejected expression he can’t properly disguise; even throughout the three years of your relationship, you rarely saw him like this. He looks…

Heartbroken, your mind suggests.

“I’m serious,” you insist again, pushing the thought out of your mind. “You weren’t a bad boyfriend, Soonyoung.”

He snorts then. “Okay, we both know that isn’t true.”

“It is!” 

“If we had, like, a counter of who fucked up however many times, I would leave you in the dust.”

You don’t know how to tell him this might even be half of it. This weird pedestal he puts you on – it’s not even guilt-tripping. You’ve seen that, but never from him; Soonyoung just truly, sincerely feels bad. Whenever you look back on your relationship, which is more often than you’d care to admit, it’s plain as day. He truly, sincerely feels that he has never deserved you. Like you’re something out of this world, out of his world. 

“Wow.” Soonyoung huffs out the one word, and it’s half a laugh, half admiration. “You are so out of my league.”

“Stop,” you whine, pushing his shoulder lightly. “Don’t say stupid things like that.”

“Well, not everyone gets to date the prettiest girl in law school,” he retorts quickly, lifting his brows. “Not sure why I of all people get to, but thank you.”

“Stop it,” you repeat, rolling your eyes and fixing the tie he’s wearing. “You’re gorgeous and you know it. You should know it, at least.”

“Not just that!” he protests quickly. “I just mean… you’re so smart. And good. And kind, and funny, and — ”

“Ah, yes! Of course, Kwon Soonyoung, known famously for being mean and horrible and extremely unfunny,” you say sarcastically, before tugging his tie and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I choose my league, and you’re the only one in it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he murmurs, slightly breathless.

“Oh, shut up and kiss me.”

There were a lot of things that went wrong with you and Soonyoung. You’d started off wonderful: both of you bright, flaming, drawn to each other like magnets. You managed the stresses of law school, graduated together, and lined up jobs – jobs that were miles and miles from each other.`

There were lots of things that went wrong with you and Soonyoung, but if you had to pick one, it would be long distance.

“When did we stop trying?”

The question makes you snort. “What, you want a date and a time?”

Soonyoung smiles ruefully, but there’s nothing happy about it. It’s more of a painful grimace. That’s always been the way with you both: you deflect, he feels. He doesn’t hide the way you do, not from anyone. And for a few years, he was the only one who you didn’t hide from. 

Maybe that’s what has you opening your mouth again. “I could probably give you one. A date, I mean.”

Soonyoung hugs his knees to his chest, eyes searching your face. You can read him so well it physically makes you ache. The hint of uncertainty in his eyes, the twitching of his fingers – he’s nervous. He’s torn between wanting to know what you have to say and the strong sneaking premonition that it might hurt. “Go on,” he says finally, just as you knew he would. 

Honestly, you don’t have an exact date. Things fell apart slowly, and then all at once. A toppling tower – leaning, leaning, leaning, until it crashed. 

“There were probably a few things,” you say, softly. “My birthday, for a start.”

He winces reflexively. “That…” he begins, and then breathes out, shutting his eyes. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for that.”

“I mean, in the end, it wasn’t that big of a deal.” You’re not sure why you’re trying to reassure him, even if it's true. You forgave him almost immediately.

“Shit.” 

Soonyoung’s first eloquent word when he walks into the apartment only means you become sure of what you already suspected. He takes in the half-eaten cake on the table, candles blown out and tossed to the side, the scraps of wrapping paper littering the floor, the cards; you take in his face. And you know, as quick and as simple as that – he forgot. 

Some small part of you had been holding a sneaking hope that maybe this was just an elaborate attempt at a surprise. You’d told him once, months and months ago, that you didn’t think ignoring people on their birthday to surprise them later was a very nice thing to do. But you’d rather he forgot that than your entire birthday.

His eyes meet yours, both of you frozen to your places. Him at the doorway, you at the table. The distance between you isn’t more than a few metres, but suddenly it feels like an engulfing abyss. Still, even from the other side, you can feel the guilt pouring out of him. 

“Shit,” he says again, before rushing his words out. “Shit, baby, I’m so sorry.”

You haven’t cried all day. You haven’t let yourself, but this has your eyes brimming over before you can control it.

“I’m going to bed,” you say finally, hugging yourself tightly, making yourself smaller. The apartment is warm, but you suddenly feel freezing. And despite your best efforts, there’s a waver in your voice, verging on a crack. “I’m tired.” 

You glance over the remains of your birthday party, one that you plastered a fake, painful smile on the whole way through, and then you turn to leave. 

“Baby, wait,” he implores quickly, and takes a step towards you — you mirror it immediately with a step back, and it makes him pause, his expression falling even further. “Baby.”

“You’re not allowed to call me that.” Your voice is obviously shaking now. “Not today. Maybe — maybe tomorrow.”

Maybe tomorrow you’ll be able to hear his excuses, his promises, but today, you’re allowed to be upset. You’ll let yourself have today, at the very least.

He’d driven hours to see you that day, but he’d still forgotten why he was there. You hadn’t really celebrated your birthday before you met him. Soonyoung was the one who made it a big deal, back when you first started dating, and even now, there’s a sharp pang in your chest when you remember how hurt you were that day.

“You made up for it tenfold,” you remind him now, because it’s true. He made the rest of the week practically a utopia, once you banned him from apologising. And he’d been so busy at work, so incredibly tired the whole month before, and you could understand. Both that he upset you, and that it was an innocent mistake. And you’ve never seen more sincere apologies than those that came from Soonyoung.

He looks grim, shakes his head, but doesn’t say any more. Probably because you’ve had this conversation a few times already, both of you too stubborn to give in. 

“Keep going,” he says, then, looking at you head on. “What else?”

All of a sudden, you don’t want to talk about what else. All of a sudden, you’re annoyed with him, his stupid face, this stupid elevator. “Do we have to do this?” Your voice has switched from somewhat reassuring to harsh – for want of a better word, angry. It makes his brown eyes a little round with surprise, his mouth parting a little.

“What?”

“What else and what if have been on my mind for three years, Soonyoung,” you say acidly. “Forgive me if I don’t really want to talk about it to your face.”

Again, his mouth opens a little bit, stays open as he tries to form words. Until he gives up, seals his lips and nods. “Alright. Okay. That’s fine.”

“I know it’s fine!” you cry out, only more angry that he won’t argue back. You’re lawyers, it’s what you do. And just to be petty, you add — “Besides, I bet your girlfriend wouldn’t be happy about this anyway.”

Finally, his passive poker face drops, and he looks a little confused. “My what?”

Immediately, you regret opening your mouth, but it’s too late to back down. “Your girlfriend. You know, that girl from accounting.”

“The girl fr— You mean Rachel?” Soonyoung gapes at you, and something in you bridles, until he continues. “Mrs Choi, who's married to her wife and adopting a kid next year?”

Well, now you feel stupid as fuck.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he continues, and if you weren’t afraid to look at him right now, you’d swear he was hiding a smirk.

“Whatever. I don’t care. Why are we even talking about this?” you snap, irritated and embarrassed.

He still sounds smug. “You brought it up.”

“You sit with her every lunch hour,” you mutter, heat creeping up your neck. “I just assumed.”

“Well, there’s nothing there. So don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried! I don’t care who you date, Soonyoung!”

He looks a little taken aback, blinking once or twice, cockiness gone without a trace. “Wow,” he says, finally. If you didn’t know him as well as you did, you wouldn’t notice the slight tremble in his voice. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name since — ”

He cuts himself off, but you complete the sentence in your head — three years ago. Three years since you packed up and walked out of his life. It feels like a decade ago; it feels like last week. You’d been so sure that you wouldn’t see his face again after that, that it was a decided end of a full four years of your life. Until last year, when he’d waltzed straight back into your life, this time at your workplace.

“This is the new hire.” Your boss is speaking, but you’re still finishing up the last sentence on the document you’re working on, and you listen absently as he fires a couple instructions — “Jeon, you’ll show him around. Filing system, get him logged on, the works.”

You look up then, to cast Wonwoo a knowing smile, because he always gets lumped with showing around the newbies, but halfway to making eye contact with your friend, you catch the familiar tilt of a jaw, the soft lines of a nose you know so well.

You’ve seen Soonyoung in a hundred people since you left him. You’re always looking over your shoulder at the bus stop, at the grocery store, at the library, finding a tiny piece of him in everyone and everything, a tiny piece that lodges itself tight and sharp into your throat until you take a second look, until you see unfamiliar eyes or too dark hair or shorter legs. Until you find something to make you swallow, exhale, and keep walking.

Now, your second look doesn’t yield anything unfamiliar. Except maybe his hair, gone from blonde to black, but everything else — everything else. It’s him, and he looks just as shocked to see you as you are to see him. There’s a heavy moment that seems only heavy to the two of you, everyone else still talking, the boss still giving instructions, but you and Soonyoung are looking at each other, dumbfounded, and all you can think about is the distinct taste of bile in your throat and the tie he’s wearing is the one you got him for his birthday.

Your initial plan is to avoid him. He foils that plan within two hours, cornering you in the break room, whispering urgently, “I had no idea you worked here, I swear I’m not, like, following you or – ”

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, and you just pin him with a blank stare. 

“I could quit.”

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish the sentence. “I’m not so butthurt that I can’t be a professional.”

“Right,” Soonyoung nods, breathing out a little. His lips are chapped. He never used to wear lip balm, just used to borrow yours. You hate yourself a little for remembering that.

The memory almost makes your lips twist with an sardonic smile. “I was so pissed when you showed up here.”

You can see his half smile, rueful and charming, through your peripheral vision. “I felt so bad about it, you know. But you just seemed annoyed when I saw you in the break room, so I figured you weren’t… mad or upset or anything.”

“I went straight from the break room to cry in the bathroom for fifteen minutes,” you admit truthfully. “I had to tell Wonwoo I had curry for breakfast.”

“You cried?”

You scowl. “I’m not saying it to be pitied, Soonyoung. I’m just saying, I’m not, like, some heartless jerk with no feelings. Of course I was upset.”

“I know that,” he says quickly, vehemently. “Of course I know that.” He hesitates, and then continues, words practically inching out of him. “It’s not really my place to ask, but… you and Wonwoo… are you guys…?”

“You’re right,” you say, and press your cheek onto your knees to fix him with your eyes. “It’s not your business. But that’d be hypocritical of me, so… no. No, we’re just friends. I’m friends with his girlfriend too, Cam, she works at the plant shop down the road.”

Soonyoung tilts his head back, lets out one of those breathy laughs that aren’t really laughs. “It’s so weird that you have new friends now.”

“Thanks,” you say, dripping with sarcasm.

“Not like that! I just mean I’m so used to – like, it used to be our friends, you know what I mean?”

“Not since three years ago,” you say with false lightness, because when you lost Soonyoung, you lost the friends he brought you too. You catch the glint of pity in his eyes again, and scoff. “It’s not a big deal. They were your friends first.”

Frowning, he speaks again. “First doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter to them either. Seungkwan said you were the one who stopped answering their calls.”

It’s true, and the feeling still burns a little, because Seungkwan and Jeonghan had called so many times. Even Vernon called a couple times, and you weren’t even that close to him, but Soonyoung has always attracted good people. Like calls to like. Maybe that’s why you ended up leaving.

“I was trying to make it easier,” you say bluntly., “for them to choose you.”

Your ex-boyfriend clicks his tongue, rakes a hand through his dark hair. “It’s not about sides, ___, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, it felt like it at the time, alright?” Your words come out louder than you mean them to, and you pause, trying to quell your defensiveness. 

Soonyoung raises his hands in half-hearted surrender. “Alright. Alright.”

Something in your stomach feels acidic. Leaning your head back against the cool wall of the elevator, you manage to meet his eyes apologetically. “How – how are they, though? Seungkwan and everyone?”

Graciously, he ignores your quick show of temper. “They’re good. Seungkwan’s working freelance photography now. Jeonghan still hates his job, but keeps getting promoted anyway.”

Jeonghan. You told him you thought you were going to break up before you even told Soonyoung. You wonder if he remembers it, because that night is seared into your memory – New Year’s Eve, three years ago.

You’re much drunker than you ever intended to be when you finally find a place to sit in the cramped apartment, waved over by a sympathetic looking Jeonghan. He pats your head affectionately as you groan. 

“Feeling alright?”

“No,” you say elaborately.

Jeonghan never pries, which is probably what makes people tell him everything. He only raises his eyebrows at you, a hint of scepticism toying with his smile.

You look away, eyes drawn immediately to your boyfriend, laughing in the middle of the kitchen. Throwing his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, looking so fucking happy; when you see him like this, your heart always feels so incredibly warm and so incredibly full. 

Except today, there’s something else intertwining it, something similar to dread, and it causes the faint smile on your face to fade a little.

Jeonghan sees it, of course, and when you look back at him, his eyebrows only raise higher. 

You sink further into that horrible, looming feeling. “Jeonghan.”

“___.”

“I think I’m going to break up with him this year.”

If you didn’t know Jeonghan as well as you do, you’d think the information hadn’t affected him at all; his features remain completely impassive, but you catch the flash of surprise in his eyes. He stays quiet for a long time, the silence between you filled with thumping bass and indistinct conversation, until finally, he asks the only question there is to ask. “Why?”

It’s ridiculous, how one word can bring you to the verge of tears. But that one word holds so much weight – why would you break up with him? Why would you, when you’ve pictured a future with him a thousand times over? 

Why would you leave the best thing that ever happened to you?

You blink back the tears, and Jeonghan waits.

His voice is soft, but you still hear him under the din of the party. “Is this about your birthday?”

You shake your head quickly. “No.” You stop. “Maybe. It’s – there’s just – little stupid things.”

“Little things add up,” Jeonghan says gently. You hate how he’s already understanding.

“Sometimes – ” You swallow thickly. “Sometimes I just feel so far away from him.”

You don’t have to explain that you don’t mean physically. Because that’s part of it, but it’s not all of it, but without you saying that, Jeonghan knows. You barely notice when he takes your plastic red cup from your hands, setting it on the table next to him. “And I know he loves me, and he’d never hurt me on purpose, and – he’s been so good to me, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan only hums, waits for you to continue. And you do, the alcohol only pushing more words out of your mouth. “The distance,” you say, “is killing us.” You rub furiously at your eyes. “No matter how hard we try, Jeonghan, it’s not working, and I feel like – I’m the only one who can see that. He’s ignoring it, but we can’t keep going like this.”

Jeonghan hesitates for a second, looking torn, more torn than you’ve ever seen him look. “Do you still love him?”

Tears blur your vision again, but don’t quite escape this time. “I don’t know how to stop.”

When you kiss Soonyoung after the countdown, your cheeks are wet.

“Long distance.”

“What?”

“You asked what else,” you say, picking at your nails. “I think it was the distance. I think that’s what – you know. Broke us up.”

Soonyoung has that look in his eyes, the one where he wants to argue but knows he’s going to lose, knows that you’re right. He breathes out, licks his lips and tries to speak. “We tried so hard.”

It’s not even a counter-argument. You agree with him, even. The two of you were brilliant at long distance, until you weren’t. Hours-long video calls, surprise weekend visits, staying over for the holidays, until it all started collapsing. Weekly movie nights kept getting postponed. Visits had to decrease in number. You were missing each other’s calls – if one of you wasn’t working late, the other always was. It was like the entire universe was working against you both, and suddenly, you felt like a burden rather than a lover, and Soonyoung would probably say the same. It’s hard not to feel that way, when you’re celebrating your anniversary over FaceTime and both of you keep dozing off while the other talks.

In a way, Soonyoung is right: you both tried so hard. In a way, he’s so wrong: neither of you tried hard enough.

Towards the end of it all, you were too tired to fight. Both of you were. The breakup was a quiet affair, mostly. You brought it up first, standing in the kitchen of Soonyoung’s apartment after realising you had no idea where he kept his cereal bowls.

“Soonyoung?”

“Babe, I told you, it’s the third cupboard from the left,” he calls, but he’s rounding the corner to his kitchen anyway. He stops in his tracks when he sees your face, smile fading, and for a second, time freezes.

“Soonyoung,” you say again, quieter.

And he knows. “Don’t,” he says, faintly, but there’s no weight behind it, because he knows.

Tears are already brimming your eyes, and you’re wrapping your arms around yourself, shaking your head. “I can’t,” you say, and you’re not sure what you mean. I can’t end it. I can’t keep going.

The picture before him is enough for Soonyoung, and any defence, any fight he still had in him (because he’s always been the more tenacious) drains. He gives in, same as you. 

“Okay,” he says, in a voice that’ll haunt you for years to come, a clashing harmony of gentle and damning. “Okay.”

You try to formulate words. You fail. All that you can say is “Soonyoung.” before you trail off. 

You don’t finish. He gives you a tired, forced smile, says something about, “We had a good run, didn’t we?”, but you’re too busy trying to wrench the tears back into your eyes to focus properly. Your efforts are in vain, of course, tears slipping down your cheeks hot and heavy, no matter how much you try to stop.

“I’m sorry,” you say tearfully, but he shakes his head.

“Don’t be sorry.”

After that, he only helps you load your bags into your car and says thank you when you give him the house keys. He does everything so quietly, so methodically, so defeatedly. It’s like he’s just lost a war he’s been fighting for far too long.

It turns out that in the end, four years can be reduced down to this: two cardboard boxes, three bin bags, and two broken hearts.

It’s your fault, in technical terms. You finished this. You’re the one who said the words, or almost said them, the one who spelled out what was so obviously ignored. More than once, because you’d tried this before, six months ago. Soonyoung was the one who fought back. He’d said no, of course, that first time. He’d said no with tears in his eyes, like it was a surprise to him, like he couldn’t see it the way you saw it — that you were on two very different paths. 

Soonyoung didn’t believe in following diverging paths, he believed in forcing yourself straight ahead hand-in-hand, come hell or high water. He believed in it, until he didn’t, and then he let you go.

When it’s time for you to leave, he accepts the hug you can’t help but fling on him just before you step in the car. Both of your arms around each other, fitting into place like you have a hundred times before, but so much tighter and so much briefer this time. Soonyoung clings to you like he’s never going to see you again, because he isn’t. You cling to him like this is the last time you’ll ever hug him, because it is.

And then both of you are pulling away, laughing awkwardly at the wet patch you’ve left on his shirt, and then you’re getting in your car and he’s waving you off and it’s over, just like that.

“It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?” There’s an acerbic quality to Soonyoung’s laugh as he continues. “We broke up because of distance, and here we fucking are.”

There’s a metre and a half between you two.

“Maybe it was a dumb reason,” you say. Voicing the thought that’s tormented you since the day you drove away. Because maybe it was stupid. Maybe it was a temporary rough patch, and if you’d stayed, if you’d fought a little more and a little longer, you’d still have Soonyoung.

But you didn’t, and you don’t.

There’s a heavy expression on Soonyoung’s face, a strange mix of anger and confusion and guilt. “Maybe,” he says, at last. There’s the vaguest trace of bitterness, the little tiny sting that reminds you again that you’re the one who called it quits. 

“It felt like the weight of the world at the time,” you say ashamedly, squeezing your eyes shut for a second.

Soonyoung takes the chance and scoots closer to you, sitting against the wall with you, shoulder-to-shoulder. (How easy it would be to just rest your head there, as you’ve done a thousand times before.) “It can’t have been easy,” he says, patting your hand with his own. Warm and familiar in its unfamiliarity, which is when you realise you’ve misread him, for once – he’s not bitter. He’s empathetic.

“It wasn’t stupid,” Soonyoung continues softly, rubbing his eyes, “but God, I wish you’d just talked to me. Actually — I wish we’d talked to each other.”

“Yes, well,” you say dryly, wondering if he’s going to catch your reference, “I’ve always had a problem with communication.”

He catches it; it makes him pause, lift up his head, give you a tiny smile.

It takes you a minute to register that the seat across from you has been occupied. When you do look up, you realise Soonyoung’s mouth has been moving since he sat down, and you haven’t heard a word of it. Also, somewhere between the class you guys shared two days ago and his presence in the library this morning, his hair’s gone from a discreet dark brown to a particularly indiscreet blond.

“I’m sorry,” you shake your head, taking out your earphones and setting down your pen. “What?”

“I said – do you have a problem with communication or something?” Despite the nature of his words, he’s practically beaming at you.

You blink at him, bewildered. “I mean… maybe? But — what?”

He holds up his phone. “Project,” he explains elaborately. “I’ve been texting, and I didn’t get a reply, and then I saw you over here, so I thought I’d ask.”

You frown, grabbing your phone. “I didn’t get any texts.”

Soonyoung mirrors your expression, tapping at his screen, and you’re struck by how much the blond suits him. As did the brown. As did the black he had a semester ago. Not that you’ve been keeping track, but it’s hard to not notice someone like Soonyoung. Even if the first time you talked to him was two days ago to organise the project you’ve been paired up for — you know him. Of him, at least.

He swivels his screen round to face you, showing you a contact with your name and what you quickly realise is almost your number. You smile a little awkwardly, tapping the last digit. “That’s meant to be a seven. You’ve got an eight.”

“Fuck,” he exhales, “that explains it. Who the hell have I been texting about litigation then?”

Something about his expression and his tone is so comical it makes you laugh, which surprises him a little – he glances up at you with a blatantly admiring smile, and he taps the edge of the desk. “Your eyes light up when you laugh, did you know?” And as quickly as he says it, he moves on, gesturing to your phone. “I’ll text you about the project, okay?”

He’s like a hurricane, and you’re trying your best to keep up. “Okay,” you agree confusedly, still hot-faced from the sudden compliment. “Yes. That’s — yes.”

As he gets up to leave again, he shoots you another one of those blinding, dazzling smiles, and sticks his hand out. “We’re friends now, right?”

His question sounds childishly sweet, and you can’t find it in yourself to do anything other than agree. 

Your one little reference sets you both off. You spend the next two hours talking and talking and talking, every other sentence beginning with “Remember when…”, as the two of you dredge up the long-buried memories of four long years spent together.

Soonyoung talks about the massive crush he had on you before you even got paired up for the project. You talk about how you never believed him, even when he did ask you out – it took three tries before you understood how serious he was. And then you remember the time Soonyoung sprinted from campus to his accommodation and back just to get you the calculator you forgot for your exam – and the time you both went to a frat party and ended up playing the most intense game of UNO in the bathroom with Vernon, which ended in a drunk Soonyoung trying to flush the cards down the toilet. 

He talks about the surprise party you threw for his birthday, and you talk about the time he tried to make you pancakes for National Girlfriend Day and failed horribly. You ate them anyway.

You don’t, however, talk about other things, even if you remember them. You remember Soonyoung kissing your forehead every morning he woke up next to you. You remember him buying your favourite flowers for your favourite vase every week. You remember coming home after a long day to food already delivered and paid for when he was working hours and hours away. You remember being so incredibly in love that it made you giddy and so in love it made you calm. And you don’t talk about it, just store it away somewhere as a reminder of what love is meant to feel like. If four years with Soonyoung brought you anything, it’s that: it taught you how to love and be loved.

When the recovery team finally arrives, you leave the elevator feeling like a new person. It doesn’t hurt when you look at Soonyoung anymore, there’s only a vague, warm fondness. And he can look you in the eye now, which he does. He smiles at you, sticks out his hand the same way he did all those years ago.

“We’re friends now, right?”

an / AHHH!!!!!! i know this fic is only like 5k but it took a lot out of me so i’d love to hear your thoughts. literally any thoughts. i wanted this fic to be longer but it happened this way and. what can i do. i may be the author but im NOT in control. it’s not a fic i’m 100% proud of but i think it’ll still hold a special place in my heart!!!! i love an angsty exes au.

anyway — this will be my last fic this year!!! see you all in 2025 and thank you so much for all the notes and all the reblogs and all the wonderful conversations this year i love you

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon

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[alwayscorvus]

Your little things... - Part 2 - WuWa Characters

malereader x Brant/Calcharo/YangYang (separated), fluff;

just some things which you are in habit of doing to your partner and vice versa; Part 1;

Calcharo

Calcharo's hair is a long story. In many ways. You are mesmerized by them. And that's why you don't miss a chance to play with them in your spare time.

Yes, it's risky. It's dangerous. You have already come terrifyingly close to death many times.

But does that mean it's worth stopping? No, definitely not. This feeling is worth dying for.

Dip your hands into a coats of his hair. Run them from the very top to the very bottom. Feel how each strand pleasantly wash over and tickle your body.

And your movements are always flowing, because his hair in some magical way never gets tangled to any degree.

Oh dear. You can do it again and again and never stop.

And your favorite activity, despite everything, is doing Calcharo braids. Often one. Extremely long and thick. In which a few shorter sticking out strands fit nicely into a whole hairstyle. Which, when swung properly, is like a weapon. Capable of dealing good damage. Leaving red painful marks. Of course, Calcharo doesn't walk around in braids. Certainly not in public. He has his dignity. So he's quick to undo them. But when you are in privacy (previously in your hotel room, after in your secluded cabin) he lets himself wear them. Especially at night. It's quite a convenient option. And Calcharo knows it gives you a great joy…

Touching his hair for the first time wasn't easy. Depending on whether you did it during phase when Calcharo had a hidden crush on you or when he was keeping his emotions under control and showing off his lack of interest

In the first case, Calcharo looked at you as dear in the headliness. Truly frustrated. With a beautiful bright blush on his cheeks. For the first time in your life you saw something like that. And you probably got shot by cupid's arrow at that moment.

In the second situation… well… Calcharo also at first looked at you a little puzzled. However, his expression quickly turned murderous. You swallowed your saliva heavily. You finally understood what all his victims felt just before they died. In the blink of an eye, you felt a strong grip on your wrist, and your whole life flashed before your eyes.

Good thing Calcharo had a weak spot for you…

-Hey, Calcharo? Who is that creature that keeps showing up at your side to give you a high-five after the fight is over?

Man suddenly stopped in a half step and looked at you with suspicion.

But he could see right through you.

-Don't tell me that you are jealous.

You didn't respond. Your gaze fell to the ground.

Calcharo laughed loudly at that, not hiding his contempt.

-Oh Jué, you are. You really are.

Your sweetest moments are your kisses, which you always tenderly lay on his forehead.

Whether it is when you part your ways. Or when he returns exhausted after a hard mission, and you welcome him home with open arms. You assure him that everything is going to be fine. Wrapping his wounded body in love and endless warmth.

Calcharo can pretend he doesn't like it. He may shy away and pull out of your embrace. Act cold and tough. But in reality, when he slips away from crowds and gets left alone with his problems, he really needs someone's support.

And your kisses cause a pleasant tingling on his Tacet Mark.

Nothing gets on your nerves and troubles you more than Calcharo's constant overclocking. You don't care about what he does. You know it's his way of living. And before you stepped into this relationship you had to come to terms with how he is. Because if you started to like him the way he was at first, then why should he now change his whole self under your pressure.

You knew what you were getting into.

But dear Jué. Calcharo really could watch himself at least a little more.

After all, the state he's getting himself into could really threaten his life. And this isn't about another deep wound that can be patched up, given medicine and waited to heal. At some point, Calcharo might just lose himself.

And nothing would break your heart more than losing your loved one and watching him no longer be himself. Just a monster that has taken over his body.

That's why you always try to be there for him when he crosses the safe line. When you see him tremble. When his body is changing. When he loses touch with reality. When battle screams turns into whines of pain.

Whether it happens accidentally. At night when his emotions are cumulating. During a fight when he uses too much power. Or even when you are far away and medical team informs you of his critical condition. You show up immediately next to his side.

You start talking to him, firmly, profoundly. In order to break through the wall around him as efficiently as possible. When he begins to recognize you and you can already tell that he won't harm you, you grab him by shoulders. Calcharo flinches but you persistently try to make eye contact. Till you see that one small glimpse in the back of his black-filled eyes. A frightened, lost Calcharo seeking help and understanding in a world that has rejected him. Once you know he's there you hug him tightly, assuring him that everything will be okay. You squeeze and wait. Wait till your Calcharo comes back to you.

Witnesses don't understand why you don't get torn apart after first seconds of trying to contact someone in these phase of greatest rage. They can't understand how strong feelings can fight other equally powerful emotions. Nevertheless, they savor these moments and always make the same sound of relief.

Brant

Maybe at first glance Brant doesn't look like house husband material. But in reality… He is a definition of those words in his own unique way.

You know how in some cultures future housewives are taught how to peel fruit, specially decorate and serve them? Apparently, this can portray own skills and a talent for good housekeeping. But at the same time, it's a small and beautiful gesture to spoil your partner with.

Well, maybe in Brant's case his habits aren't a results of a family tradition. Still one can't underestimate their importance.

When you spend leisurely moments together on your ship. When wind blows your hair and sea air pleasantly teases your nostrils. When you sit cross-legged on a big wooden barrel chatting with the rest of a crew and Brant leans against a side.

There comes a time for a little snack!

Almost out of nowhere, like a rabbit out of a hat, Brant suddenly digs out a juicy tangerine, which was previously stored in his pocket. First he neatly peels it, and after that he proceeds to consume it. Paying no attention to the rest, only occasionally adding a few words from himself to a whole conversation. However, he couldn't forget about you. Every now and then, he scoops a better-looking piece onto a top of his freshly polished dagger and nonchalantly slides it towards you.

You don't even have to turn in his direction. With trust, you naturally open your mouth and catch the fruit, allowing yourself to be fed.

It is always important to Brant for his partner to be well cared for, full and satisfied. It's a small goal that he has set in the back of his mind, and he always feels itchy and frustrated when things turn out otherwise. Please let him take care of you-

It has been for long known how important to a ship's captain his hat is. It is his pride and glory. It not only symbolizes power and authority, but also status. It allows for the most important member to stand out from the rest of a crew. Its a proof of all the previous achievements and hard work that led to this position. It's just like a medal. Helps to add confidence, charisma. Solidify one's identity. It's definitely something that every captain, despite his utmost love, devotion and appreciation towards his crew, doesn't share. And that's not a subject for any discussion.

Well, unless it's about you.

It's not like you asked for it. You never even dared to suggest it.

You know what comes with the weight of wearing a captain's hat and how important a seemingly ordinary piece of clothing can be to its owners.

Nevertheless, one day, as you were quietly sitting on a ship's stern. Far from people's bustle. With your eyes closed and ears open for a rustling of moving containers in a distance, you suddenly felt a gentle weight on your head.

You carefully pushed your eyelids open and looked to the side. Behind your back a figure of your partner appeared. He stood proudly, with his hands resting on his hips and a smile wide from ear to ear.

-Looks good on you, my dear~

And that was just the beginning. From then on, when he is exhausted, goes for a break and you take a steering wheel, he passes his hat to you. Brant always puts it on by himself and delicately fixes it, while brushing back strands of your messy hair so hat lies in the best possible position. And highlights your best features.

Or when he wants to show you off, whether in front of a crew or newly arrived guests. He hands you his hat, throws his arm around your shoulders and, pushing out his chest, proclaims:

-That's my man~

It's extremely intimidating. But at the same time it causes a strange warmth inside.

After all, he may be a ruler of seas and oceans. But you are a ruler of his heart.

He's a little playful. Don't tell me he isn't. Brant can't resist teasing you at least a bit.

When you're out of reach, separated by a crew.

When he's standing on top, right behind a steering wheel, and you're watching him from below while helping clean up on deck.

When he's performing on stage, and you're sitting in a front row as his biggest admirer.

When he's sprawled out with his feet on a table and a glass of whiskey in his hand, negotiating a merchandise payment with some shady types. And you're leaning against walls of a bar, working as his best bodyguard.

When he dances in the night at the festival, in a blaze of colorful lights, right in the center, surrounded by heated bodies of strangers. And you closely mirror his actions, making sure that no other hand taints his skin.

He catches eye contact with you.

Keeping you in mind in every situation. Wanting to show his closeness even while being distant.

He lifts one corner of his mouth up and winks at you with amusement.

Your heart starts to beat faster, even if you respond with a snort and a look of pure pity. With this one simple gesture, Brant really proves that he has you completely wrapped around his finger.

YangYang

In the mornings, you get woken up by a strange tickling sensation around your nose. The itch lasts so long and is so persistent that you awaken with a loud sneeze. And with you, your girlfriend.

In the dark, not yet fully familiar with reality, you search for the cause of your unwanted wake-up call. In your field of vision appears a object, almost pulled straight out of a cartoon.

A small white feather.

Cute, fluffy. But not alone.

There was a whole bunch of them, and their source was your chosen one's luscious black hair.

You wince slightly at this sight. But Yangyang's panicked face immediately gets you melted. Your grimace turns into a smile, with which you hastily place a sweet kiss on her forehead.

-Go back to sleep, little one.

You move away and slowly reposition yourself to your previous pose, eager to regain as much as possible of remaining half an hour of your sleep.

-I'm-m- sorry!

Almost with tears in her eyes she hurriedly apologizes, turning in your direction. As if she knew from an experience that it was her fault.

However, you calm her down instantly, almost cracking up laughing at the whole situation. Without a second thought, you lock her in a tight hug and snuggle her head into your chest as firmly as possible.

Your friends often find you in one particular position.

Yangyang sitting comfortably on her bent knees and you spread out with your head on her thighs.

Smiling, daydreaming, completely carefree.

Yangyang is lovingly brushing through your hair while massaging your temples, that are sore from an overload of thoughts.

In her soft voice, she whispers sweet nothing into your ear.

Assuring you that everything will be fine. That you have nothing to worry about. That you are the best. Strong, smart, funny. That you can handle anything.

She appreciates you and successively builds your confidence.

Such moments happen not only when you are waiting for someone in the city, relaxing on a couch in your apartment or spending an evening in camp, at a rest stop during another of your longer missions. Many times these situations occurs on the wide grasslands of Huanglong. Where you go on picnics as part of your shared dates. Warm rays of sunshine rubbing your faces, pleasant blows of wind carrying scent of wildflowers and wisps of mature grain roughly tickling your bodies.

Fountains. Cursed places. You always avoid them with a wide berth. Or at least try, even if with poor results.

Just joking, you only pretend to do so. In fact, what happens when you approach them really melts your heart away. Because yes, in the end you always stop by them. One little person doesn't let you get past them.

-Oh look! A fountain!

Overexcited Yangyang jumps up on a spot, hurriedly grabs your hand and runs towards a monumental stone decoration.

-Do you have a coin? -she asks even more thrilled, turns towards you and looks with an awaiting gaze.

Her tone evidently rushes you.

Amused, with a laugh and head that shakes from side to side with a pity, you reach into your pocket digging for a golden trinket.

-Faster faster! - Yangyang grabs you by a forearm and pulls.

She always acts as if this pile of stones, that joyfully splashes aruond with water, were about to escape you.

Truly adorable.

You finally reach your goal and hand her a coin, from the change of recent purchases, which you try to stockpile for such occasions.

Overjoyed, Yangyang grasps the small treasure with her fingers of both hands. Tilts her head down slightly, brings the shiny little thing to her forehead and makes a wish in a whisper.

Then with a sweeping motion, she tosses a penny and watches as it dives to the bottom of a fountain with a cheerful plop, joining the rest of its family, from all corners of world.

Yanyang intertwines her hands with you again. She smiles pleased and truly satisfied with herself.

And what does she wish for? Well, there is only one thing in the world that she really cares about. For you to be healthy and for your relationship to continue like this without any interruption. In happiness and unity. Nothing has to change, because it's already perfect.

not sure if you know but yesterday this profile had its first year anniversary~

2024 means:

10 wuwa posts

7 hsr posts

2 genshin posts

let's hope for the better! in forecast for an upcoming week: massive jiyan rainfalls

[sylusonychinus]

DadGirl Sylus HC

a/n: one of the lines here are actually spoken by my dad hehe, let me know in the comments which one you think it is :3

DadGirl Sylus who carries his daughter on his shoulders like she’s royalty, calling her “his little queen” while making sure no one so much as breathes wrong in her direction.

DadGirl Sylus who lets her sit on his lap while he’s handling business, completely unfazed as she plays with his hair, paints his nails, or demands his attention—because in his eyes, she’s the only one who matters.

DadGirl Sylus who never lets her lift a finger if he can help it, tying her shoes, cutting her food, and even carrying her around long after she’s old enough to walk—because “why should my princess ever have to tire herself out?”

DadGirl Sylus who sets the highest standards for how she should be treated, telling her, “Anyone who doesn’t treat you like I do isn’t worth your time,” while casually sharpening his knives in the background.

DadGirl Sylus who spoils her endlessly, from custom-made dresses to impromptu late-night drives for her favorite sweets—because if she so much as mentions wanting something, he’s already making it happen.

DadGirl Sylus who carries his daughter in one arm like she weighs nothing, effortlessly balancing her while handling business—because no meeting is more important than keeping his little queen close.

DadGirl Sylus who lets her "boss him around," taking her tiny hand as she drags him through stores, picking out whatever she wants while he just smirks and tells the cashier, “Put it on my tab.”

DadGirl Sylus who kneels down to fix her hair, tying the perfect ribbons or adjusting her tiny crown, whispering, “A queen should always look her best, sweetheart.”

DadGirl Sylus who absolutely refuses to let her cry alone, wiping her tears with the gentlest touch, holding her close, and murmuring, “Anyone who makes my little princess sad won’t be around much longer, I promise.”

DadGirl Sylus who acts like the world is beneath him but will sit at a tiny tea party table, pinky up, sipping imaginary tea because his daughter ordered him to—without a single complaint.

DadGirl Sylus who trains her in self-defense, but only so she can say, “My daddy taught me this,” before taking down anyone who dares disrespect her.

DadGirl Sylus who tells bedtime stories in his deep, commanding voice, making every tale sound legendary, but always ending them with, “But you, my little queen, are the most powerful of them all.”

DadGirl Sylus who, no matter how ruthless he is to the world, melts the moment his daughter tugs on his sleeve and asks for cuddles—because if there’s one person who owns his heart, it’s her.

[disruptive-starlight]

Unspoken Rules

I saw one (1) tiktok about “the hat rule” and it has done irreparable damage to my fic writing lol

This is a Caleb x MC story written in second person

Enjoy :)

“I can’t believe you were able to get clearance to give me a tour of the base!” 

“Being a colonel has its perks, y’know.” 

The two of you are standing outside the entrance, hand in hand. 

“By the way, come here for a sec.” 

You raise your eyebrow, confused, but do as he says. Caleb reaches for his hat, removing it from his own head before plopping it onto yours. 

“What was that for?” 

“I just don’t want you to feel left out, since everyone else will be in uniform.” 

You don’t quite believe that, but you drop the issue, not wanting to start anything before your actual date begins. After all, you steal Caleb’s clothes all the time. Why's wearing his hat any different? 

The two of you spend your day walking through the base, Caleb taking the time to show you all his favorite spots. With all your teasing and laughing, you end up missing the strange looks many of the officers are giving you throughout the day. 

Caleb doesn’t. 

From jealous to encouraging, Caleb catches them all as he does his best to make sure you don’t notice. He knows how these men could be, and he needed them to know you were his in every sense of the word. Just one of them thinking it was a good idea to approach you just wouldn’t do. 

Most of the tour goes without a hitch, and the two of you bump into Gideon just as you’re about to leave. 

“Hey guys!” 

He smiles as he approaches, clapping Caleb on the back before greeting you. 

“Hey, Gideon! What’re you up to?” you ask politely, and the two of you chat for a bit before he turns to Caleb with a teasing grin on his face. 

“You just had to go and stake your claim, huh?” 

Caleb wants to slap him so bad.

He tries to respond but you beat him to it. 

“What do you mean ‘stake his claim’?” 

Gideon immediately realizes his mistake, even before the glare Caleb shoots his way. 

“Oh, uh, just that he walked around base with you all day. No other reason.”

The poor guy hightails it out of there, already preparing for the talking to Caleb’s bound to give him next time they see each other. 

As Gideon leaves, you turn your attention to Caleb. You swear you can see him sweat under your gaze. 

“What was he talking about?”

“Like he sai–”

“Don’t give me that crap.” You stare him down as he tries and fails to avoid your eyes. “Tell me what he really meant.” 

He sighs. 

“Have you ever heard of the hat rule?” 

You weren’t expecting that. 

“The what?”

“The hat rule.” He sighs again, eyes looking anywhere but at you. “It’s technically a cowboy thing, but many of the Fleet officers follow it too.” 

“Cowboy? What do you– wait. You mean that hat rule?!” 

“...yeah” 

“That’s why you put your hat on me this morning?!” 

“...yes.” 

You sigh, your face in your palm as you take this in. Caleb waits, nervousness evident on his face. 

After a moment you start to laugh, and Caleb can’t decide if he should join in or run for his life. 

“You know what, fine.”

Caleb lets out the breath he’s holding just before the devilish grin takes hold of your face. 

“But you need to wear mine when I show you around the Association.” 

Mouth agape, he tries to protest but ultimately decides against it. He lowers his head in defeat. 

“...fine. As long as it makes you happy.” 

You smile at him, confirming his words. 

“Now c’mon.” You grab his wrist, signalling him to follow you.

“Where are we going?”

“We have to follow the rules, right?” 

You don’t miss the grin that lights up his face. 

“Of course.” 

[lumieresdreams]

saw @winterchestnut do this on my feed and i wanted in on it!

Zayne

Takes his time to get to know each and every LIs before landing on me. Probably not his first choice, but finds himself warming up to me overtime until he ends up having me have the highest affection lvl

Once he finds his favorite, he focuses on me and likes to grind for diamonds and dailies with me

Since he's busy doing his job as a doctor, he'll probably only be able to properly play the game once he's back home, using Secret Times or Moments with You as a way to wind down for the night

If he misses a day, he feels slightly guilty and would check in on me the next time he's not busy, saying sorry and telling me about his day

Probably has a habit of having dinner with me using Quality time

Ends up having almost every single card I have out unintentionally while doing his best to be f2p

Caleb

Played the game because of my trailers, loyal asf since day one of release

Likes the main story quest and event quests with me in it

A dedicated fighter, he mostly enjoys grinding my Orbit with me, waiting patiently for my day on it to come and grinds for lvl up mats in the meantime

If he's bored, he'll go back into the past Orbit levels to pass the time, LOVES hearing my battle voicelines but would rather hear me being victorious than getting hurt. But still also likes it when I step in and protect him from attacks

Probably has most if not all of my 5*s maxed, he is NOT f2p

Annoys the hell out of me on the homescreen and puts me in the silliest outfits ever

Sylus

Didn't take long to find me as his favorite, feisty and sassy that I am. This guy LOVES the challenge of me giving him attitude here and there

Also really likes annoying me on the homescreen, but likes to dress me up real nice. He's paid for ALL of my outfits and accessories, no questions asked

He'll only rarely give me the free will to change my clothes myself cause I'll probably end up choosing the simplest and comfiest option

Likes event stories with me in it, he's itching for more outside of the main story. He so desperately wants to crack me open and read me like an open book, break down my fighter persona and finally make me mush in his hands

Probably has all of my 5*s maxed, no questions asked

Xavier

Not the most active player, but plays the game every other event that catches his attention + has an interesting premise with me included in it

LOVES Secret Times, uses it for company and basically uses my singing audio as his own personal lullaby for sleep

When he has a lot of time in his hands, he'd go through the main story that has me included in it, reluctantly. This man is weak against angst and boy do I probably have a lot of that in my part LMAO

If there's a second ending to any of my cards and he unexpectedly gets a bad ending, he will SOB and apologize and quickly goes back to get the happy ending to comfort himself

Rafayel

I'm not his first choice, but he likes me as a secondary ngl

We're too much alike, sees me as a friend with benefits whom he likes to share tea with. Enjoys my sassy personality that matches his and doesn't hesitate to sass back when the chance comes up

Slow burn type stuff with him, the more he finds out about my angsty story, the stronger he feels for me. Would most likely be frustrated with me for a while before coming back and comforting me on the homescreen

Besides having to deal with my angsty antics, he likes to get back at me by dragging me into the Photobooth and taking hundreds of pictures, half of which are us being fashionistas while the other half is nothing but silly pictures

His favorite expression from me would be me pouting or being a little angry at him, makes me turn away from him half the time I'm on the homescreen because of how doting/nosy he sometimes tend to be

aaaaand that's it! this is purely based on myself so it's probably gonna be different for everyone else heh. this is such a fun writing exercise too!

[writingastory]

Xavier:🍋-Alphabet

Warnings: Explicit (obviously lul), written for fem!reader

Genre: Canon AU; MC (including storylines) is non-existent.

A/N: Time to bring this classic back. 😏

A = Aftercare

🌟 Xavier is such a sweet soul. Before Aftercare even becomes a thought, he just wants to bask in Afterglow: steal soft kisses from your lips, plant the sweetest kisses everywhere his mouth can reach, pressing himself to you as close as he can (without suffocating you).

🌟 He just needs a few moments of snuggling like this, with him still inside you, until he's naturally slipping out ever so slowly.

🌟 Once that happened, he will ask you what you need and bring it to you. Something to clean yourself, a shirt, a nightgown, a snack, a beverage - you name it, he'll make it happen for you.

-

B = Body part

🌟 I feel like Xavier would be obsessed with your hands. They are so small and soft in comparison to his.

🌟 Remember the Nightly Rendevouz? When he held your hand so gently against the window? Yeah, he loves your hands.

🌟 Definitely making sure that your fingers stay entwined from the beginning to the end. He doesn't want to lose that connection, under no circumstances.

-

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

🌟 He loves to creampie you.

🌟 More specifically, he loves cumming deep inside you - and then watch his seed trickle out of you slowly.

🌟 Please don't be shy to spread your legs for him and let him watch.

🌟 Bonus points if you let him rub you to another high and he gets to watch your sweet pussy flutter and clench, pumping out his cum.

-

D = Dirty secret

🌟 Actually, this man doesn't really have a classic dirty secret. You basically know everything.

🌟 Except maybe that he thinks about letting you dom him completely for once. He's not quite sure yet how to articulate that wish, but he'll get there.

🌟 Please just bind this man to the bed and wear him out, okay? He needs it every now and then.

-

E = Experience

🌟 Not the most experieced, but!

🌟 This man is always very atuned to his loved ones, especially to the woman of his heart. So, he really doesn't need a lot of experience to know what he's doing. He sees and feels your reactions. Xavier quickly understands what you like and what you don't like.

-

F = Favorite position

🌟 It's either Flatiron or Missionary.

🌟 Either way, it's gonna be a very close variation. He craves close skin-to-skin contact.

-

G = Goofy

🌟 Unintentionally goofy sometimes. Just like he is in real life.

🌟 And that's also kinda the reason: This man has no separate personality for intimacy and sex. You get the same Xavier between the sheets that you get for grocery shopping on a Saturday morning.

🌟 So sometimes, even if he doesn't mean to, he's a little goofy while he's pressing inside of you.

-

H = Hair

🌟 Probably doesn't have the wildest hair growth anyway.

🌟 Still, he makes sure it's all neat. Doesn't shave clean though.

🌟 Also doesn't expect you to follow any "routine" for your body hair. You like removing your hair? Okay, sweet. You don't like removing your hair? Okay, sweet.

-

I = Intimacy

🌟 He's so focused on satisfying you....

🌟 Seriously, if there's a time he does not think of sleeping... it's this.

🌟 He's so sweet, too. Whispering soft words, greedy for kisses and for touching you...

🌟 He's a very soft dominant man. Yes, he likes calling the shots in bed - but he does so very gently. You're a treasure and you're ought to be treated as such.

🌟 Only exceptions are when you explicitely tell him to be rougher... or when he's jealous. That's another story, though.

-

J = Jack off

🌟 Not a fan, honestly. Not even before you two became a thing.

🌟 His thoughts may have derailed every now and then, but never to a point where he had to relief himself in some way.

🌟 Even less since you two became a couple. Why would he use his hands when yours are so much more talented...?

-

K = Kink

🌟 Voyeurism.

🌟 Need I say more?

🌟 Check "C" in this post. 😭

🌟 He totally would have you touch yourself while he watches, just saying.

-

L = Location

🌟 Everywhere it happens. Except in public. He's not a fan of public sex. That would always be an unpleasant thrill, and he'd have to rush... and he doesn't want that.

🌟 His favorite would be the bed though. Mainly because he can just snooze off once you're both satisfied.

-

M = Motivation

🌟 Huge on physical motivation.

🌟 Yes, seeing you in cute or sexy lingerie is awesome... but if you want to get him going, you need to get physical with him.

🌟 Scratch his scalp gently, kiss his neck, nibble on his collarbone - or just boldy squeeze him through his pants. He'll be mush and putty in your hands.

-

N = No

🌟 He will not do anything that hurts you.

🌟 He'd probably not even choke you, even if you asked him.

🌟 Harming you is not on his agenda.

-

O = Oral

🌟 Loves giving and receiving equally.

🌟 He would not want to finish like this, though. He'd much rather finish deep inside of your perfect pussy. But he loves when you get on your knees for him.

🌟 On the other hand, he loves burying his head between your thighs. This man will take his sweet time with you, spread you open gently and lap at your entrance and your sensitive pearl carefully. He revels in the quivers he feels around his tongue.

🌟 Please pull his hair when he goes down on you, it'll make him moan against you. :)

-

P = Pace

🌟 Depends on his mood. If it's a good day, he will take his time. It'll be sensual, passionate, a slow build up to the crashing waves of your orgasms.

🌟 If it's a bad day (or you riled him up, you bad girl), he's gonna be a lot more demanding and fast. He'll pound into you with more vigor and purpose.

🌟 Same happens when you ask him to be a little rougher with you. No matter the occasion: if he happens to fuck you a little harder and faster than usual, he'll make sure to press you down, so that you have no other choice than to take what he gives you.

-

Q = Quickie

🌟 Loves shower quickies. I don't make the rules.

🌟 If his morning shower contains washing your hair and filling you up... who is he to complain?

-

R = Risk

🌟 The riskiest thing during sex this man will do... is to try out new positions.

🌟 He's not a huge fan of taking risks. He wants intimacy to be enjoyable and not nerve-wrecking.

-

S = Stamina

🌟 Lots of Stamina on this one, he's fit as hell.

🌟 Still, he can only go one round - but that round will be worth it. Don't worry, he'll make you finish several times before he even thinks of finishing himself.

🌟 When he finishes, it's like a switch was flipped in his brain. He's satisfied, he doesn't need more than one round.

🌟 That's also why he makes sure you're thoroughly satisfied before him. He knows that once he's done, he can't go on any longer - so he takes care of you first.

-

T = Toys

🌟 No.

🌟 Would probably be confused by a lot of them?

🌟 Also, why would you need those? You have him? 🤨

-

U = Unfair

🌟 Unintentionally unfair and teasing.

🌟 He's rubbing you so good and you're close? He'd pull away, confused why you're annoyed suddenly? He was just repositioning himself to eat you out. He knows you prefer finishing on his tongue, so why the long face...?

🌟 Also, this man says the lewdest things with the straightest face. "This is welcoming me back so warmly. Can you feel it?" he'd whisper, not understanding why you're embarrassed? He was just stating a fact? :(

-

V = Volume

🌟 Noisy, but not loud.

🌟 Definitely a breather and groaner, not necessarily a moaner.

🌟 He'll make sure to breathe and groan right into your ear though, so you can hear him, no worries.

-

W = Wild card

🌟 Xavier is so obsessed with your body, but in a non-sexual way. He could spend hours just tracing your form with his fingers, finding all the little imperfections that make you you - and he'd love it.

🌟 So, don't be surprised that you find him watching you getting dressed or undressed or taking a shower. He's not trying to be creepy. He's just in awe of your beauty.

-

X = X-ray

🌟 5 inches / 12.7 cm

🌟 Pretty straight, and girthier towards the base. A few veins here and there.

🌟 His tip is slightly pink.

-

Y = Yearning

🌟 Surprisingly high. This man could go at any time during the day.

🌟 After your first time of making love, you did it daily - sometimes several times a day - because he simply could not keep his hands to himself.

🌟 You two are still very active, but mostly during "set" times and not just at any time during the day.

-

Z = Zzz...

🌟 Okay, we know this man can sleep anywhere, anytime. After sex is no exception. Once you're both clean and comfy, snuggled up under the blankets... he's out. Just like that.

🌟 He'll wrap himself around you btw, so there's no escape. You're sleeping, too. :)

[yanderedrabbles]

Hi I love your stories and characters so much.

Reading your stories always makes me happy. They are a huge comfort💖.

I hope no one has asked you this question, in case I apologize🥲.

I wonder, of your yandere characters, who would be able to threaten you by saying that they would hurt one of your family members (a sibling, a parent), to tenderi by their side?

Who would be able to hurt or worse kill them?

Or would they not because they would know that it would make you unhappy to lose a relative?

It occurred to me while reading the story about Yandere!Yakuza.

If he were to hurt our little brother so that he wouldn't leave us, I would be extremely sad.

(Instead, I think characters like Yandere! State Trooper or Yandere!Pirate, wouldn't care much about your feelings and would hurt your relative if they saw them as a danger)

-smally anon

Yanderes Who'll Threaten Your Family - a totally wholesome collection I promise

Yandere! Yakuza tries to be a nice guy. He really does. But don't ever forget that he's a criminal. You have no idea the things he's seen, the things he's willingly done. It won't be his first option, but if it comes down to it he'll happily break as many bones as it takes to get you back in his arms. And if he feels a family member is being a particular hazard to your relationship? Well, him and his boys are just gonna have a friendly chat. Of the baseball bat to the face variety.

Yandere! Military Contractor won't hesitate to put a bullet in the gut of anyone stupid enough to get in his way. Hell, he'll do it right in front of you if he has to. To him, strength and brutality are all that matters. Is it any surprise that guilt over bloodshed doesn't even feature on his radar?

Yandere! Pirate thinks of himself as a gentleman criminal. The rougish counterpoint to the rich merchants and naval captains that infest the sea. But don't be fooled - he's a killer and a criminal to the bone. How far do you have to go to become Captain on a ship of dangerous, heartless pirates? Trust me, you don't want to know.

He won't kill them in front of you. No, that would just complicate things. He doesn't want to needlessly frighten you. Getting you into bed would be so much less enjoyable if you were constantly trying to claw his eyes out. He'll claim to not know anything about your suddenly missing brother or fiancé, honest to God above. But oh, the sharks do seem so very well fed.

Yandere! Cyberpunk Mercenary is another ex-soldier with a rotten heart. He's got a soft spot for you - sheltered rich girl that you are - but that doesn't mean he's above bloodshed when necessary. In his case, it's almost inevitable. Your parents will keep sending people after you, desperate to get their daughter back from the filthy criminal that has her. He'll try not to let you see any of it. But the acid vats on Titan and the nuclear reactors on Europa have seen more than a few unorthodox disposals.

Yandere! Mobster is... well, he's not a bad guy. Tries to help folk out, look out for the community. If there's any trouble with your family, he trusts his reputation will solve it. No one wants to tell the Don's favorite enforcer that he's not good enough for their family. That's how a person's car ends up in the river with them in the trunk. No, no one in your family is stupid enough to get in his way. And if they did... well, you never liked your cousin Vinny that much, did you?

Yandere! Riot Control Officer is lining up to hurt them as we speak actually. He doesn't even need an excuse. 

[joaosnovia]

❦ - yours to hold.

summary:: after early morning training, gavi comes home to you absolutely exhausted, but there’s always gossip (had to sacrifice ferran for that, sorry guys… 💔)

warnings:: uhh none apart from the one sentence ferran slander if you even wanna call it that?? 😭

writers note:: the lack of gavi fics are genuinely the death of me but anyways!! also working on a joao fic so you’re welcome!? 😔😔

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @cherryloveshs ; lmk if u wanna be added!

the rain tapped steadily against the windows, a soothing rhythm that echoed through the apartment. gavi was sprawled on the couch, head resting on your lap, hair still damp from his morning training. you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair, scrolling through your phone with the other hand.

'you're ignoring me,' he mumbled, voice muffled by the fabric of your sweatshirt.

'am not,' you replied, though you were definitely only half-listening when he started rambling about some moment from practice.

'are too,' he insisted, turning his head to glance up at you. 'this is quality storytelling and you're just... scrolling.'

you laughed, setting your phone aside. 'okay, okay. i’m listening. tell me again about how ferran tripped over the cones?'

his face lit up as he recounted the incident, animated and full of gestures, and you found yourself grinning, not at the story, but at him. this was your favorite version of gavi, the one off the pitch, relaxed, messy-haired, wearing that old barça hoodie that was technically yours but had long since become his.

when he finished, you chuckled. 'poor ferran.'

'don't feel bad for him, it was hilarious,' gavi grinned, then shifted to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you down beside him. 'we should do something.'

'like what?' you murmured, nose brushing against his.

'i dunno. movie? nap? both?' he suggested, eyes half lidded with exhaustion.

'you just got back from training. pretty sure you need the nap more than a movie.'

'yeah, but i wanna spend time with you,' he mumbled, already sounding drowsy.

your heart melted a little at that. 'we are spending time together.'

he hummed, nuzzling closer. 'yeah, but... like, awake time.'

'you’re falling asleep as you say that.'

'shhh,' he whispered, lips curling into a small smile. 'just... stay.'

so you did. the rain kept falling, soft and constant, and his breathing evened out, warm against your neck. you traced lazy patterns on his back, content in the quiet. it didn’t matter that there was nothing grand or exciting about this moment. this, being here with him, in the calm of a rainy afternoon, felt perfect.

and as he held you closer, mumbling something unintelligible in his sleep, you thought: yeah, you wouldn’t trade this for anything.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

what did you think about wiege miss raven …

It was cute 🥰

BRO 💀 LUKA IS SO HOPELESSLY IN LOVE AND DOWN BAD FOR HYUNA… He’s smiling like a kid in a candy store and blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush when a GUN is pointed at his head??? Wanting to run to her and embrace her anyway, with zero regard for his own situation or how she might react negatively to him??? Kissing her missing poster (even though kissing isn’t really a thing in their society?) He’s literally SO mentally ill and obsessed with her… This is toxic and codependent het, I KNOW IT IS 👁️👄👁️

The song this time was admittedly not my favorite, honestly (its tone is sort of haunting)—but I love what it represents… A pure lullaby, holding all the hope for a peaceful and happy future. It’s probably one of the few songs Luka ever sang without intent to manipulate or harm his duet partner.

I loved seeing more gaps in the story being filled in!! Mizi after being rescued and Hyuna trying to calm her down, Hyunwoo’s presence in general, Hyuna competing in Alien Stage, Luka and the other children in Anakt Garden… Ooogh, and those flashes to an alternate universe where everyone is alive, well, and involved in their passions… Luka and Hyuna with their matching rings (not sure if they’re promise bands, engagement rings, or wedding rings)?? It was nice but I feel like I might not be as invested in their relationship if that AU lacks the ✨ spice ✨ of being enemies.

LITTLE LUKA WAS SO PRECIOUS BUT ALSO SUCH A LONER LOSER OTL Laying his head against her… Him sitting under that tree alone and huddled up, counting his fingers to pass the time… Hyuna casually joining him… The pure joy that brings him… Hyuna going in for what seems to be a hug, only for the scene to cut to her body slumping on his AFTER BEING SHOT WHILE PROTECTING HIM 💀 That was absolutely FOUL…

TILL, MY BELOVED SON… He didn’t show up a lot this song, but I loved seeing him having so much freedom and creativity. Spray painting, drawing, just acting like a Normal Human Being and not constantly lashing out and being violently subdued 💦 I always feel like I’ve been punched in the gut myself when he’s harmed. Poor guy… He deserves all the happiness in the world.

dhjsvajFagfDah DONmT yhINK i FORgoT MIZI eiThER. Girliepop is fr going through it??? Still having trauma visions of Sua… LOSING HYUNA NOW… and now she’s left with that fucker whose ass she beat in a fit of rage 😭 which does NOT bode well. THE MURDER IN MIzi’S EYES AT THE ENd, HOLY ShIT. I am half expecting the next installment to just be her wailing on Luka, maybe blaming him for what happened to Hyuna and still holding a grudge for using Sua’s death in such a despicable way.

Hyuna’s final words to Luka were so 👌 It wasn’t too long, it wasn’t too short… It was the perfect length and it conveyed everything she needed to tell him. How important he truly is to her, how she hates him because she loves him; he is and always was her one and only weakness, how all she wishes in her final moments is for Luka to live life to its fullest—even the ugly bits. That he should forgive himself and love himself no matter what…

“Luka, live with love. Embrace the pain, the frailty, and the moments so unbearably shameful. Forgive yourself… Again and again, endlessly. Because everything… begins from there.”

P.S. I feel like I definitely got lost on some parts of the story 😅 I wasn’t sure how to interpret that scene where Luka was covered in blood and there were a bunch of his dead clones (?) in tanks?? Is the implication supposed to be that the aliens were trying to make the perfect performer and the Luka we know now is the ideal test tube baby…? I see his hand on what appears to be a control panel of some kind?? So did he accidentally kill the clones?? And I’m not sure why the random gunman tried to shoot Luka. Isn’t Hyuna the leader of the resistance? Why didn’t she command them to stop? Why did she throw herself in harm’s way instead? Was it a spur of the moment or adrenaline fueled move? Did the gunman really dislike Luka or what he represents + want to kill him so badly they disregarded orders to let him go?

P.P.S. Sorry to Ivan fans… I do not have much to remark on other than the opinion I have always held, which is “Man has killer eyelashes.”

P.P.P.S. I actually didn’t cry! 👍 vxjsneksksk I live for angst like this, so I was eating it all up like a bag of chips.

Really looking forward to seeing where things will go from here on out! The resistance is lacking a leader now; will Mizi step up?! What’s going to happen to Luka, is he going to be taken as a hostage and slowly come around to join the resistance? How are the aliens going to retaliate? Will the competitor even continue at this rate? So many interesting questions!

[floylia]

# MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE ⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾

22. Always the cupid 💌

Destiny and fate are liken to strings you can’t untangle with ease. Two simple words with inexplainable concepts. A belief split into millions of definition.

And this—is not fate playing its game. It’s not a coincidence. It’s not doomed, rather it’s time lending you its hand to convey a story of hearts stuck in bottles.

Cerulean eyes meet yours just moments after leaving Kazuha. The contact lasts shorter than you wanted. But within those few seconds, recognition is acknowledged on both sides. Strangers and acquaintances briefly gave you their attention, but it wasn’t the one you wanted. It didn’t hit the same. It wasn’t his eyes that were on you, and it wasn’t his voice your ears welcomed.

Now it is, and you want it forever.

Childe maintains his gaze on you and it’s difficult to tell where his mind takes him. Was he looking for you? Is the urgency in his eyes meant for you? Is he glad to see you? And most importantly, why does he have a knife in his hand? These thoughts occupy your mind in a matter of seconds before it’s disrupted.

A blue-haired friend swings his arms around Childe’s shoulders, offering him a shot of liquor, “Hey! Feeling better?” He says in a mocking tone.

Childe groans as he attempts to remove Kaeya’s arms, but the blue-haired boy only tightens his grip until he spots you, just inches away.

Kaeya squints his eyes in recognition before he points with excitement, “You’re Thoma’s sister right?” He walks to you, but your attention doesn’t land on Kaeya, it stays on Childe as he creeps up behind, “I’m Kaeya, one of his best friends. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

You nod politely and smile back. Kaeya gives you a friendly hug and the proximity makes Childe visibly annoyed. It makes you thrive.

“Okay, that’s enough, she looks uncomfortable,” Childe coughs as he pulls Kaeya away with more strength than necessary.

Kaeya rolls his eyes, “Your temper worsens when you’re sick.”

“He’s like that even when he’s not sick.” Thoma pats Childe’s back before handing you a plate of your favorite food.

“Whatever,” The ginger says before glancing at you and stepping away, but Thoma pulls him back.

Your brother stares at Childe intently, “Before you go home, grab some food.”

Childe waves his hand in refusal, “I’ll be fine,” he barely mumbles before walking towards the door to grab his gray coat, and leaving.

He doesn’t look back. You wish he would. But he didn’t, he simply left. You can’t blame him. It’s not as if you can pretend to be friends when your “friendship” is based on late night conversations that toes the line between flirting and longing locked in secrecy.

“He’s sick, don’t mind him,” Thoma says, snapping you out of your distractive thoughts. But his words only weights down your worries, leaving you no room for relief.

He’s driving home in that state?

Thoma clears his throat loudly, “Since you still have your coat on, can you run to the parking lot to give this to Childe?” He hands you a Tupperware of food.

“I’ll do it,” Kaveh offers but Thoma interjects.

“You’re the host of the party, you have to stay here.”

You nod, offering a strained smile, trying not to make it obvious how you badly wanted to do this. How badly you wanted to be near him.

Once you leave the apartment door, you run trying to catch up to the ginger. The flight of stairs has you gasping but it didn’t matter. When you reach the parking lot, and you don’t recognize any of the vehicles resting in place.

Was I too late?

When suddenly, you hear a voice.

“It’s cold, go back,” even with his hoarse tone, you recognize him.

You turn around and place the back of your hand on Childe’s forehead—he’s burning up, “And you’re sick.”

He grins, but it doesn’t reach the corners of his eyes, “I’ll be fine.”

You shake your head, “I’ll take you home.”

“Suddenly, I’m getting the princess treatment?”

You don’t respond, only taking his hand with his car keys intertwining it with yours and letting the beep of the car lead your way.

“You should go back,” he says, but the grip of his hands tightens as if he had no intentions of letting you go. Luckily for him, neither do you, “They’ll wonder where you went.”

You reach his car, opening the passenger seat, “Frankly, I don’t care.”

He chuckles, obediently putting his seatbelt on, “Last chance.”

You slam the door before sitting in the driver’s seat, “Too bad.”

— 💌

The apartment smelled of complexities and rarity.

The walls are covered in picture frames of what you guess are his family. This is his home. His life is displayed in ways you could only get a glimpse of from a screen. Now you get a different version of him—a domestic one. It’s not too bad.

“Take off your coat,” you say upon entering, removing your shoes and turning to face him as you swat the bits of snow left on his fluffy hair. You fight the urge to ruffle it.

He removes his coat before hanging it up the wall, “Do you want to take off my shirt too?”

“Should I?”

Not expecting your answer, he clears his throat but you can see the red blush appear on his ears as moves to sit on the gray couch, arms covering his eyes to avoid the blinding light, “What will your brother think?” He says but the words are too faint you almost miss it.

Did he not like that idea?

Was he uncomfortable that you’re Thoma’s sister?

Was it too risky for him?

Did he not want to take that risk?

You follow him, placing the packed food on the coffee table before laying the containers in an organized manner, ready for him. Childe watches you, his gaze unreadable.

Your hand reaches the top of his hair, massaging his head in a pattern he clearly enjoyed, as you stand in front of him, while he looks up at you with those puppy ocean eyes. “I asked you—what do you think? Should I sit on your lap and carefully unbutton your shirt? Or should I just stand here and watch you?”

You like that idea—so much that you hear your own heart beating against your chest that if you’re not careful enough, might leap out of the bottled up feelings you began harboring in the months you started to get to know him.

And with the way his hands slithered around your waist, and the apparent shade of crimson painting his face, you assume, he likes it too.

NOTES:

when they match each other’s freak:

deep inside, thoma is actually crashing out

this chapter makes me want to rip my hair and teeth out because i didn’t know how to convey the story in a direction where it would make sense 😡 i hated this so much, i started writing the ending to feel something 😔

SYNOPSIS: There’s a line Childe knows he shouldn’t cross; A line built on years of friendship; A line that happens to cross you, his best friend’s younger sister, grieving her first love; A line where he plays savior, wears a halo, then feign ignorance, because love is a game for fools—and he happens to be the biggest idiot when it comes to love.

When a new stranger invades your life and an old poet writes back

CHILDE X FEM!READER

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[solmarillion]

❝...that lament which is named Noldolantë, the Fall of the Noldor, that Maglor made ere he was lost.❞

In honor of @maedhrosmaglorweek Day 5: Artists, here's another photo of my Maglor cosplay from Dragoncon!

I love how I was able to capture Maglor's anguish as he painfully tells the story of his people's crimes. Yet for all his regrets, he can't seem to stop falling further into darkness, as Maedhros and their brothers are the only ones who remain always at their side....

This photo is one of my absolute favorites because of its expressiveness. I really enjoy bringing the stories of the Silmarillion to life through cosplay and I can't thank @camcammeii enough for her incredible direction during the shoot!

Cosplay made by @knights-of-beleriand, character design by me.

[meow-moment]

My distoipian short story i hope you like it

I wake up. I turn off my alarm clock (head implant) and leave my house. My mom is already at work, her job as a looping stripper hologram starts at 3am. I get on the city bus (flying) and head to dystopian megaschool. Chris Pratt Generalized Turbocademy, located in central HyperNeo CyberJersey.

As soon as I arrive the custodian android straps me into my infopod. The VR headset thrusts itself onto my eyes and feeds me two hours straight of propagandvertising (portmantaeu of propaganda+advertising). I am then quizzed.

"Who Won The Neon Wars?" It asks.

"PepsiCo," I answer.

"How Many People Died In The Neon Wars?"

"2.6 Trillion."

"Name One Long-Term Consequence Of The Neon Wars."

"The sun got extinguished."

And the quiz continues. I get every question right- if I got two or more wrong, my infopod would liquefy me and send my remains to the cafeteria to be served as lunch. The headset chastises my handwriting and recommends a stabilizer implant for my wrist. (I already have one but the machine is trying to get me to admit it's a bootleg. If I do admit it, I will also be liquefied.)

After that is lunch. They're serving my favorite today: liquefied students. I meet up with my friends Xyrone, Klazzz, and M.I.K.E. and we gossip together.

Xyrone is a hacker with a headset constantly strapped over his eyes and a bitcoin-mining rig surgically mounted to his back. He doesn't need to study because he can break through the school's firewall and change his grades to A's. We keep asking him to change ours too, but he's a Nova-Libertarian, so he thinks if we want it that bad we should do it ourselves.

Klazzz was recruited at age 8 to pilot a mech in the global manhunt for Saddam Hussien. (He'd have to be 900 years old by now at least, but modern medicine is crazy so I dunno.) A bully thinks it's be funny to mimic an explosion sound with his mouth right behind her, and her combat instincts kick in and she vaporizes him and his posse with her arm-mounted neutron cannon. (If anyone tries to remove it from her body, it shuts down her nervous system and then self-destructs, meaning it's classified as a disability aid)(that's why she's allowed to have it in school)

M.I.K.E. is a closeted singularity. He doesn't think anyone knows but he's obviously such a sjklop (slur for AIs) its not even funny. Sometimes I paint captchas on my face so he can't tell its me and then I beat the fuck out of him. I think it's funny.

We realize we all have next period free so we decide to skip class. On the way to our favorite pizza joint we notice a news bulletin being projected onto the sky. Greg (Eternal God-CEO, President, Emperor-Lord, and Judge of the Northern Hemisphere, as well as founder of tech startup Rooblop) is announcing that we're going to nuke Venus, just in case there are aliens there.

We turn around from the news just in time to realize that M.I.K.E.'s pathfinding has malfunctioned and led him into the middle of the street. He's hit by a car and immediately torn to shreds (all cars have sawblades mounted to the front to discourage jaywalking.) The driver doesn't even bat an eye (he's also an AI, his own pathfinding malfunctions a second later and he makes a sharp left turn into a crowded mall.) I save the footage and post it to the cloud. It gains 2 billion views over the next thirty seconds. Ten seconds after that, a rights organization cancels me for glorifying AI murder. On the horizon, I see a drone strike get called in on my Dystopian Megaschool, and I'm glad I skipped class.

We stop at the Dystopian Mega Pizza Shop on the way home. Their pepperoni is guaranteed to only be 90% liquefied high schoolers, and the cookies they sell even have real Khreim! (not to be confused with Cream, Creme, Kreem, Chreamm, or Kchreeighm.) Unfortunately, the entire restaurant is sold out, as the cadre of CopDrones in the corner bought everything edible in the building to fuel their starved appetites. Klazzz throws a disparaging insult in their direction, and in response they shoot Xyrone 87 times in the chest.

I arrive home. My mom is home on her 30 minute break. She's made meatloaf, made with Tomaytoh Soss(tm,) Garlic, Liquid Teenagers, and a whole lot of love. I give her a big hug. She says she has to run, but there's a special birthday treat in the freezer. I open it up to find a whole pint of ice cream waiting for me. My favorite flavor: mint chip.

And you'll never guess what it's made of.

That's right: Bugs.

THIS POST IS SATIRE