#its so far removed i think i can call it that

[hazymoonlinh]

A bet is a bet, right, Lighter ?

(In conclusion, he wear a maid dress. :))))) )

(Lighter x gn!reader)

The dim light of Burnice’s dingy bar you’d chosen for your little “duel” added to the atmosphere. The place was perfect for the game you had in mind. A row of shot glasses sat between you and Lighter, each filled with something potent enough to knock out a lesser soul.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk cocky as ever. “You sure about this, babe? You’re playing with fire.”

You mirrored his smirk, tapping your nails against one of the glasses. “Don’t flatter yourself, darling. I’m tougher than you think. The rules are simple—whoever passes out first loses. The winner gets one demand. No refusals.”

His red-slashed eyes gleamed under the bar’s flickering neon sign. “And what exactly are you planning to demand from me?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

Lighter chuckled, the low sound rumbling in his chest. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The duel began. Glass after glass was downed, each burning its way through your throat and spreading a pleasant warmth in your veins. The patrons at nearby tables stopped what they were doing to watch, murmuring in hushed tones as they witnessed the famous Lighter Lorenz locked in a drinking battle with his equally formidable partner.

“You’re holding up better than I expected,” he teased, setting his latest glass down with a clink.

“And you’re sweating more than I thought you would,” you shot back, swirling the next drink in your hand before tipping it back.

By the fifteenth round, the world was spinning for both of you, though neither would admit it. Lighter leaned forward, elbows on the table, as his sunglasses slid down his nose. “You… you’re something else,” he slurred, though his grin never wavered.

“You… too,” you managed, slamming down another glass. Your tail flicked lazily behind you, betraying your smugness.

It wasn’t until the twenty-second round that his head slumped forward, forehead resting on the table. A low groan escaped him. “Damn it… fine. You win.”

You blinked through your own haze of intoxication, raising both arms triumphantly. “Ha! I knew it!” you declared, though your words were more of a proud slur.

He looked up at you with tired eyes, lips twitching into a grin. “Alright, what’s your command, your highness?”

You leaned forward, fingers brushing his chin as you purred, “You’ll know soon enough.”

The next morning, Lighter groggily woke up in your shared quarters to find the maid uniform neatly folded on the table, along with a note:

“You lost, love. Time to pay up. Put it on. I’ll be waiting~.”

The groan he let out could’ve rivaled the sound of thunder, but deep down, you knew he’d do it. After all, a deal was a deal.

You lounged comfortably on the couch, legs crossed, fingers tapping the screen on phone. A whistle escaped your lips as Lighter stepped out from the other room.

There he was, the ever-composed Lighter Lorenz, but today? Today, he was far from composed. The maid uniform you’d so cleverly acquired clung awkwardly to his tall, broad frame, the frilly apron tied just a little too tightly around his waist. The hem of the dress barely grazed his knees, and the stockings—well, you’d convinced him to wear those too, much to his chagrin.

And, of course, he hadn’t dared to remove his signature sunglasses, even in this humiliating state. His face was bright pink, contrasting sharply against his usual cool demeanor.

“Say something, and I’m walking out that door,” he grumbled, the low growl in his voice betraying his embarrassment.

You couldn’t help it; laughter bubbled up uncontrollably. “Oh, mon dieu, you’re gorgeous. I think you missed your true calling, Lighter.”

He crossed his arms, the frills of the sleeves only adding to the absurdity. “You got what you wanted. Can we end this now?”

“Not a chance,” you said with a sly grin, patting the seat next to you. “Come here, maid boy. Your master has some… requests.”

He groaned, dragging his feet as he approached. “You’re going to milk this for all it’s worth, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

The moment you pulled out your phone, Lighter’s eyes narrowed, a low groan escaping his lips. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Oh, I’m not,” you chirped, grinning like a cat who just cornered its prey. “C’mon now, spread your legs and kneel on the couch. Hands under your chin, please.”

He glared at you, his lips pressing into a firm line, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “I hate this,” he muttered, shifting awkwardly into position on the couch. His knees dug into the cushions as he rested his hands under his chin, striking a pose so out of character it was almost painful to look at.

You didn’t hold back a laugh this time, snapping a quick photo. “Oh, that’s perfect. So delicate. You’re a natural.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he growled, but he stayed in place, his pride visibly crumbling with each passing second.

“Now,” you said, scrolling through the photos like a professional photographer critiquing their work. “Lie on the couch, stomach down. Legs curled up behind you. You know, classic flirty pose.”

Lighter groaned loudly, dragging a hand over his face before reluctantly complying. He flopped onto the couch, grumbling under his breath, and tucked his legs up behind him like you asked.

You tilted your head, squinting dramatically at him as you snapped more photos. “A little more sass, darling. Give me your best ‘come hither’ eyes. Sell it to me.”

“This is the worst day of my life,” he muttered, glaring over his shoulder.

“Oh, no, this is the best day of mine,” you shot back, snapping another picture.

He let out a defeated sigh, burying his face in the couch cushions. “I’m never agreeing to one of your stupid challenges again.”

You set the phone down, grinning as you sat beside him, running a hand through his messy hair. “Oh, you say that now, but you’ll forget by the next time I bat my eyelashes at you.”

He shot you a look, his blush still lingering. “Not this time.”

“Sure, sure,” you said, leaning down to kiss his temple. “You’re adorable, by the way. Thanks for being a good boy.”

___

(I have a draft of the gang seeing him in that dress too but meh, it’ll be too long and I already flop enough)

[waitingandwishing]

(Cross posted on Wattpad)

Prev - Next Chapter

"I was requested by Jayce Talis to enter," Y/N spoke, her tone steady but soft.

The guards exchanged uncertain glances, their eyes lingering on her unusual white hair. It stood out, stark and striking, carefully brushed unlike her usual matted hair.

Her outfit was similarly transformed. Gone was her usual Zaun attire: the utility belt, fitted black pants, and boots. 

Instead, she wore a cream-colored satin blouse, its high shine catching the light. Ruffled layers trimmed the chest and sleeves, exuding an elegance unfamiliar to the woman from the Undercity. Tailored black slacks completed the ensemble.

In her hands, she clutched a bouquet of forget-me-nots, their delicate blue petals trembling slightly with her grip. The flowers felt symbolic— bitterly ironic given the years and the silence that had grown between her and the man she was about to see. 

Three rings adorned her fingers, the same jewels still attached to them. To an untrained eye, they were merely jewelry, but to Y/N, they were something much more.

"Name?"

"Y/N." She replied softly, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation.

The guards studied her for a moment longer before stepping aside and opening the heavy doors. Y/N stepped through into the room, bracing herself for what lay beyond. The air was cold, likely to manage the nosebleeds, and the windows were tightly shut.

"Jayce said I’d be having a visitor," A soft voice called out, pulling Y/N’s attention to the frail figure in the bed. She nodded, taking in his features as she moved to sit on the stool beside him.

"I didn’t think it’d be you, though," The voice continued, tinted with a mix of surprise and warmth.

"Hi, Viktor," Y/N replied gently.

"It’s good to see you again," Viktor said with a faint smile, his voice carrying a quiet rasp. "I’d greet you properly, but—"

"You’re dying," Y/N interrupted, her voice cracking with the weight of those words.

"Obviously," Viktor replied with a dry chuckle, though the humor failed to mask the reality of his condition.

Y/N’s heart clenched at the sight of him. Bedridden, a tube fastened to his nose, his skin pale and gaunt. He was far weaker than she remembered, far removed from the Viktor who had once returned her pocket watch with that same kind smile. Her lips trembled, betraying her urge to cry, something she seldom allowed herself.

"Are those for me?" Viktor asked, gesturing weakly toward the bouquet.

Y/N nodded, setting the flowers carefully on the table beside him. For a moment, she simply stared at them before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you remember… When we first met?"

Viktor’s expression softened. "Of course. You were running from a group of people you’d just stolen from and—"

"—Crashed into you," Y/N finished with a bittersweet smile.

"Yes," Viktor continued, his eyes glinting with fondness. "Then the next day, you presented a new cane to me that you made yourself."

"I felt bad," Y/N admitted, her voice filled with a quiet sincerity. "I dragged you into my mess, and had to make it right somehow."

"After that," Viktor said, his gaze distant, "We became best friends."

Y/N followed his line of sight to the closed window. Her voice was barely audible as she asked, "I’m asking for a lot but… Can we rewind, Viktor? Do you think we could redo this?"

Viktor reached out a trembling hand, brushing it through her hair with a faint smile. "I’m not sure I have enough time to rewind," He murmured. "But… Perhaps we can be friends again."

Y/N hesitated only for a moment before leaning in, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. It had been so long since Viktor had felt such warmth, and for him, it was a comfort he didn’t know he needed.

"I’m sorry," Y/N whispered against his shoulder. "I’m sorry I didn’t write to you. I’m sorry it came to this."

"I’ve missed you, Y/N," Viktor replied softly, his voice trembling as he held her. His arms, weak and unsteady, wrapped around her in return.

Y/N fought back tears, knowing it would be selfish to cry when Viktor was the one dying. Still, her heart ached with regret and longing.

Her gaze dropped to her rings, their stones glowing faintly, as though responding to her thoughts. ‘You can fix this…’

"I can fix this," She whispered, pulling back to look Viktor in the eyes. Her hand reached out, cupping his pale cheek.

Viktor blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

For a moment, Y/N hesitated. Could she tell him? Would he understand? Mages were hunted; their very existence was a crime. But this was Viktor, the man she had trusted with so much before. The man she still loved.

"I…" She faltered, her mind a storm of conflicting thoughts. ‘But you can’t tell him. You can’t.’ Finally, she said, "I want to help. I’ll find a way. I always do, my love."

Viktor nodded, a faint smile gracing his lips. "It’s good to see you again, mojí drahoušek." As she caressed his cheek, Viktor raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her trembling fingers.

_____________________________________________________

Y/N huffed as she stepped through the dimly lit door, relieved to finally shed the uncomfortably elegant clothes she had worn in Piltover. The cool air of the room wrapped around her. “Bluejay?”

Silence greeted her at first, thick and oppressive, before a voice emerged from the shadows.

“Where were you?” Jinx’s voice drifted through the room, quiet and dull, almost lifeless.

“In Piltover,” Y/N replied, frowning as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. 

A dry, bitter chuckle echoed. “Really?” Jinx’s voice sharpened, her words laced with venom. “Is that another lie like everyone else gives me? Or is it just the vague truth?”

“Bluejay, what are you—” Y/N started, her voice faltering in the face of the palpable tension.

But before she could finish, a blur of blue hair and movement exploded from the shadows. Jinx slammed into Y/N, tackling her to the ground with a shocking force. The cold press of a knife blade bit into Y/N’s neck, and the glint of Jinx’s wide, frantic eyes loomed above her.

“Where were you?!” Jinx screamed, her voice teetering on the edge of hysteria.

“In Piltover.” Y/N cried, struggling beneath the smaller girl’s wiry strength. “Jinx, what are you—”

“LIAR!” Jinx’s voice broke into a ragged, furious shout. “EVERYONE LIES! Everyone leaves! You promised you wouldn’t leave me!”

Jinx’s grip loosened slightly as she stumbled back, clutching at her head with trembling hands. Her breaths came fast and shallow, her chest heaving as she muttered under her breath.

“You promised…” She whispered, her voice cracking. “Shut up! Shut up, all of you!”

Her fists clenched tightly against her skull, and she began to hit her head, frantic and desperate to drown out the chaos that only she could hear. “Let me think! Let me think!”

Y/N’s heart wrenched at the sight of her sister unraveling before her. Carefully, she sat up, her movements deliberate and slow as she reached for Jinx’s wrists.

“Jinx,” Y/N said softly, her voice calm despite the fear roiling in her chest. “It’s just me… It’s Y/N. I’m right here.”

Jinx’s wild eyes flicked to her, darting back and forth as though she wasn’t entirely sure if Y/N was real. Her breath hitched, her hands trembling violently as she rasped, “Why did you leave me, Ma? You promised… Y-you said you wouldn’t—”

Y/N took hold of Jinx’s shoulders, grounding her with a steady touch. “I would never leave you, Jinx,” She said firmly, her voice unwavering. “I would never hurt you. I would never betray you. I’m always on your side, no matter what.”

Jinx’s trembling hands slowly lowered, her manic energy giving way to something softer, something broken. Her wide, frightened eyes filled with tears as her lip quivered. A choked sob escaped her as she leaned forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Y/N.

“Where did you go?” Jinx’s voice was small, fragile, like a child seeking reassurance.

Y/N held her tightly, one hand smoothing down Jinx’s messy blue hair as she whispered, “I was in Piltover. I was visiting a sick friend and just wanted to see him before he… Before he died.”

Jinx pulled back slightly, her expression conflicted. Her gaze flicked around the room as though searching for something unseen, before landing back on Y/N. 

She gripped Y/N’s arm tightly, her fingers digging into her skin. “You’re not lying, are you? You wouldn’t… You wouldn’t lie to me, right?”

“Never,” Y/N said without hesitation, her voice laced with sincerity. “I’d never lie to you, Jinx. I promise.”

Jinx stared at her, her teary eyes studying Y/N’s face for a long moment before she nodded shakily. Her erratic breathing began to slow, and the tension in her grip loosened. She hugged Y/N again, burying her face in her friend’s shoulder like a lost child finally finding safety.

“Don’t leave me again,” Jinx whispered, her voice trembling but firm.

Y/N’s arms tightened around her. “I won’t,” She said quietly, stroking Jinx’s hair. “I’ll always come back for you. A bird can’t fly without both of its wings, right?”

“Right.”

“Now… Tell me what’s wrong.” Y/N’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she gently stroked Jinx’s hair. The tension in the room seemed to loosen just slightly under her calming touch, though Jinx’s trembling hadn’t completely stopped.

“Sevika said…” Jinx hesitated, her voice barely audible. Her fingers clutched tightly to Y/N’s shirt as though letting go might make her crumble. “Vi’s back.”

“What?” Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “But… Silco said she was dead.”

Jinx’s jaw tightened, her hands clenched into fists. “Yeah… But Sevika said she was back.”

Y/N studied Jinx’s face carefully, her hand still stroking her hair in soothing motions. She tilted Jinx’s chin up gently, coaxing her to meet her eyes. 

“Do you… Do you want to see her again?” Y/N asked, her tone cautious yet supportive. “It’s your choice, Jinx. And if you want to see her, I’ll be there with you.”

Jinx’s expression flickered with hesitation, but eventually, she nodded, “I want to see for myself,” She said, though her voice lacked the confidence Y/N had hoped for.

Before Y/N could reply, a frown crossed Jinx’s face, darkening her expression. “But…” Jinx added quietly, her fists tightening again. “Sevika said she was with some girl. An enforcer.”

Y/N blinked, the words taking a moment to sink in. “Vi’s working with an enforcer?” She repeated slowly, trying to wrap her head around the idea. “That… Doesn’t really sound like Vi.”

“Yeah, well, people change,” Jinx muttered, her voice low and bitter. She looked away, her eyes tracing patterns on the floor as her fingers absentmindedly traced lines on her own skin. “We’ve changed.”

Y/N tilted her head, leaning closer to catch Jinx’s eyes again. “Are you talking about appearance-wise or personality-wise?”

For a moment, Jinx stayed silent, but then a faint smile crept across her lips. “I dunno,” she said softly, glancing up at Y/N. “But I still prefer your longer hair.”

Jinx let out a soft laugh and reached out to ruffle Y/N’s hair playfully. It was a rare, genuine moment of lightness between them, and Y/N smiled too, feeling some of the tension in her chest ease.

“Sorry about… Earlier, I guess,” Jinx added, her voice quieter now, tinged with guilt.

“It’s fine,” Y/N replied with a chuckle. “You know I would’ve pushed you off if I could.”

Jinx’s smile grew as she pouted in mock indignation. “Yeah… I know.” She leaned back slightly. “Let’s go find Vi.”

(Idk Jinx is kinda OOC??? Like idk really know how to write her character tbh 😭)

_____________________________________________________

Jinx held Y/N’s hand tightly as she pulled the trigger of the smoke bomb. She turned to look at Y/N, eyeing the three rings on her finger. “Y’know, I’ve never seen those in action.” She said.

“Well, don’t be upset if it’s not up to standards, alright?” Y/N said, placing a hand on Jinx’s shoulder, “And don’t be upset if Vi doesn’t come either. Sevika might’ve been wrong.”

Jinx nodded as she held the blue smoke up, her hand shaking slightly as it puffed out the last remnants of it. A raven cried out loud as she waited for a second before yelling and throwing it off the building.

“Maybe she’s not here.” Jinx muttered. Y/N nodded, taking her hand to walk back before hearing a voice she’d never thought she’d hear again.

 “Powder?”

Jinx turned around slowly, wondering if Vi was real or not. She turned to Y/N, who nodded with a small smile. “Vi?”

“Oh, Powder!” Vi teared up, rushing over to hug Jinx tightly. 

The blue haired girl stayed frozen, wondering if this was just an illusion to make her feel safe or not. She dropped the gemstone to the ground as tears ran down her face and she finally hugged Vi.

“I’m so sorry Powder, I… I tried to come back. I promise, I did. But I… I got arrested.” Vi trembled, placing a hand on Jinx’s cheek. 

“Marcus?” Jinx realized.

“I don’t know. I… It doesn’t matter. I just… I never thought I’d see you again.” Vi’s latched onto Jinx tightly.

“Are you real?” Jinx asked.

“Yes, of course. It’s me, Vi, your sister.” Vi smiled through her tears. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Things changed when you left. We changed.” Jinx said, tears cascading down her face as she started to cry.

“We…” Vi turned to finally look at Y/N, her eyes widening. Her hair was cut shorter and her eyes were darker, if she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought it was someone else.

“Y/N!” Vi said with a smile as she hugged the older girl. Y/N smiled, slight resentment still settled in her chest as she hugged her back.

“Hi, Vi.” She said quietly, turning to Jinx to come closer.

“I know you two did what you did to survive.” Vi said, turning to Y/N. “Thank you, Y/N, for taking care of her… But what matters is that we’re here together.” She hugged both of them tightly.

Footsteps pounding on metal was the first thing Y/N heard before seeing an enforcer girl standing behind Vi. Jinx quickly held up her Machine gun and Y/N raised her hand slightly, gems glowing blue.

“Who’s she?” Jinx asked Vi.

“Who are you?” The woman asked, her accent clear. She was from Piltover, that much was obvious.

“It’s okay. She’s a friend.” Vi reassured the two of her sisters.

“Sevika wasn’t lying? You’re with an enforcer?” Jinx asked, backing away into Y/N for support.

“Vi, why’re you working with an enforcer?” The white haired woman asked.

“Your sister is Jinx?” The enforcer spoke, “And those jewels on her ring, those are the same gems as what she stole!”

“Caitlyn, just listen, we can work this out.” Vi said, panic rising in her tone.

“This is a trick! You’re playing me! You’re playing us!” Jinx realized, raising her machine gun higher once again to aim at the both of them, “Shut up! I’m in no mood!”

“We didn’t say anything.” Caitlyn frowned.

“I wasn’t talking to you!” Jinx pointed the machine gun to the enforcer.

“Powder, it’s okay.” Vi raised her hand.

“Stop calling me that. It’s Jinx now. Powder fell down a well.” Jinx snarled.

“You’re not a jinx. God, I never should have-”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a child!” Jinx yelled, pointing the machine gun to Vi’s neck. “Was that why you came? For this stupid stone?”

“No, I don’t even know what that is, I…”

“You’re a class act, sister.” Jinx chuckled, “Sister. Thought I missed her. Bet you wouldn’t miss her! Why has Y/N been a better sister than you?!”

Vi turned to Y/N, with desperate eyes. And all of a sudden she was back with Vander, back to cleaning Vi’s face full of soot and wrapping her injured hands. She was back there, and frozen. “Oh, Vi…” She whispered, her resolve cracking at the sight.

“Powder, Y/N! I’m here for the both of you. Only you two.” Vi smacked the gun away from her face, stepping forward and outstretching her hand to Jinx. “You can fire that thing if you want, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to abandon you again.”

Jinx paused, frozen before yelling, “Everyone shut up I need to think!”

“Y/N… Please…” Vi’s voice cracked and Y/N felt her hand tremble at the sight.

“I’m not mad at you, I forgive you, Vi. For what you did… It wasn’t your fault.” Y/N said, reaching a hand out towards her. “Come with us, Violet.”

Vi backed away, her eyes widened. “What happened?” She whispered.

taglist: @night-fall-moon @cyberwears @g0ul666 (If you'd like to be added tell me in the comments!!!)

[lovetaroandtaemin]

A Perfect Christmas

Lee Chan x Reader

Word Count: 671 Genre: Pure fluff Rating: PG! However, I still ask that if you are under 18, you do not interact with my blog.

Summary: Y/N and Chan celebrate Christmas together with an unexpected surprise.

Content Warnings: None! If you think there is something that needs a warning that I missed, please let me know, though! A/N: This is part of a Secret Santa drabble event hosted by the amazing @camandemstudios! This entry is for the lovely @chanranghaeys. I hope you like it! Event masterlist can be found here!

Fic is under the cut.

The tree was exactly how you and Chan envisioned it, covered with shiny tinsel and ornaments that covered the full spectrum of color. Some of them were references to your favorite movies, like a recreation of the “Burn Book” from Mean Girls, while others were brightly colored dinosaurs in homage to your boyfriend’s stage name. Sure, the tree wasn’t exactly aesthetically cohesive, but it was perfect in your eyes. Honestly, everything about the day had been perfect so far, just like every Christmas you’d spent with Chan before.

You were distracted from your admiration of the tree by Chan calling your name. When you turned around, he asked, “What are you thinking about, baby?”

“Nothing, just admiring the tree. It’s beautiful”

“I think that there’s something in this room that’s even more beautiful,” Chan said as he pulled you closer into a tight hug. As you relaxed into his hold, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were to have someone that loved you as much as he did.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your boyfriend asking, “So, are you ready to open your gift?”

You nodded and responded, “Yep! I just need to go get yours.”

Chan let go of you, and you went to retrieve his gift from its hiding place. When you returned, you found him sitting in front of the tree like an excited little kid waiting for permission from his parents to open presents from Santa. It was absolutely adorable, honestly. When Chan saw you, he smiled like he knew something that you didn’t. You were curious about what he had gotten you, but you decided not to say anything.

You sat in front of Chan and smiled, handing him the box. It was small, but you were certain he would like the gift. When he opened the box and saw it, you were proven right. He carefully pulled out the two crocheted otters, sewn together to look like they were holding each other’s hands, and hugged them. With tears forming in his eyes, he looked at you and asked, “Did you make these yourself?”

With a smile, you nodded and said, “I couldn’t help myself. I recently learned that otters hold hands when they sleep so they don’t float away from each other, and I thought it was adorable.”

Chan laughed and said, “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too, Channie.”

Carefully, Chan placed the otters back in their box and set the box aside. Then, he handed you a box covered in bright red wrapping paper with the same excited smile on his face, like he had a secret. You carefully removed the wrapping paper, and when you opened the box, what you saw was the best surprise that he could have given you.

Inside the box was a diamond ring, just like the one that you’d excitedly shown him a few months before when you went to the mall together. You’d thought he wasn’t really paying attention, but now that you held the box in your hand, you knew that you’d been wrong.

You snapped out of your shock when Chan asked, “Do you like it?”

“I love it!”

Chan smiled and said, “I love you. From the moment I saw you, I knew that I wanted to be with you. From the moment we made our relationship official, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Tears started to fill your eyes as you nodded, and Chan carefully pulled the ring out of the box and placed it on your finger. Once the ring was on, you set the box aside and practically threw yourself into Chan’s arms. While he held you close, the two of you started to discuss what you wanted your wedding to be like. As the conversation went on, you couldn’t help but think about how lucky you were to spend another perfect Christmas with the love of your life.

Thank you so much for reading, and merry Christmas Eve! I had so much fun participating in this event, so once again, I'd like to thank the incredible @camandemstudios for organizing it! When the event masterlist is posted, there will be a link in this post! If you liked this drabble, please like and reblog! If you'd like to see more of my work, my masterlist can be found here. If you'd like to see what I'll be posting in the future, my upcoming works list is here. If none of that catches your attention, or there's something specific you'd like to see, feel free to send a request via asks or dms!

Thank you for reading, and happy holidays!

[harleiquina]

Hey! I'm late for the party (because being overworked and underpaid sucks and always ends up in burnout -not fully recovered as of now, just with spare time because its Christmas, I'm working and nobody is calling so I can delve in Tumblr as much as my heart desires-).

First of all... I wrote my original reply around 2 or 3 am because my dog woke me up and I couldn't fall asleep again. So probably I had a point and eventually lead to something else because... sleepy brain goes brr.

About the writing

It is true that between saying it or just leave it out the text, leaving it out of the text is the safer option. There is also the posibility that it was planting an idea that never truly came to be so it is just dangling there with no other purpose... it happened to me a few times that I plant a seed of something in a story and then completely forget about it and sometimes I remember and remove it. I don't know how the time frame and due dates are in the process of creating a comic (if it was written arch per arch or if NG had all planned out and later came up with the different issues) but I guess that is they were going issue per issue -writing, drawing, coloring, formating and eventually printing it- there weren't many options to go back and fix something that didn't worked.

And yes... these were the '90s so... there isn't much to do about it.

In the end of the day, Sandman isn't Hob's story. Maybe there was a chance that if audiences liked him enough there could've been a limited run series of him through time and it didn't happened maybe there was a plan to do so but audiences preffered Death over him (can't blame them). Then the audience could've see him after his meeting with Morpheus and maybe growing a backbone eventually to stop his bussiness with the Slave Trade. We will never know.

Shipping and willingfully-ignorant fans

I'm not into shipping either (I'm not going to deny that in any fandom some edits or fanarts are cute) and in this particular case, even if I understand from where it comes from... I'm so done with it. Maybe if instead of casting the son they would've gone with the father things wouldn't have gone that far 🤣

Mischaracterization is a common phenomena in any fandom, sometimes it could be the main shtick to the plot of one pice of fanfic but when the bee-hive fandom accepts it as official headcanon there is no turning back and you just have to ignore it.

Had fandom had a more accurate-looking Hob they might've reacted differently. I haven't read the comics but I've seen a few panels... and he kind of grosses me out. There is no question there that he was on any easy-way to do money (thief, soldier, slave trader) with little to no remorse. But shippers only see what they want to see and leave any kind of nuance flies out the window.

There are (possibly) many fanfic writers that took Hob's dark past (in general) and did created well grounded stories where he gets to reflect on what he's done and how to atone for it. But fluff is fluff and it gets more views. And I think that's the root of it all... some people just want a cozy coffe-shop AU because they are only in there for the romance, others want to read something that will make them question either the character or themselves, analize how certain events played out or could happen. Pretty much as with movies you have the blockbusters, the historic dramas, the romance and an audience for each one of them.

It might feel like some of them are glossing over a very serious subject that should be treated with respect however there is a different place to tackle those subjects on... hopless romantic fanfics are not the right place.

However there is also those who go full "he did nothing wrong" and this could stem from both options: people who are racist themselves, or people that has no idea of what it being a part of the Slave Trade really means. Given that History is so far back, is easy to "forget" or even imagine the living conditions back then. Of course, those who have grandparents or greatgrandparents that have experienced it in the flesh will not let it fly.

In the end of the day it all depends on whoever is reading. They can be affected by it, shocked, outraged or not... that's how Art works and none of us has the right moral compass to tell others if they should be ashamed or not.

We can tell them to knock it off or at least tag properly, but thats an entirely different can of worms 🤣

Hob Gadling’s Involvement in the Transatlantic Slave Trade between the 16th and 19th Century

The Fallacy of (clumsily written) Racial Reconciliation or: Is show/Hob really different from comics!Hob

I originally wrote this a while back as a reply to someone else’s post, but since we’ve been discussing “Men of Good Fortune” (comics) and “The Sound of Her Wings” (Netflix) in our community over the past weeks, I’ve expanded on a few points of my original thoughts.

This post discusses difficult topics, systemic racism, questions of social (in)justice and problematic angles in writing. If that’s not your thing, this is the exit sign…

A question that comes up quite frequently is the following:

Is show!Hob different from comics!Hob?

Hob’s conversation with Dream in 1789 (and not just 1789) in the show has been significantly altered (compared to the comics), and it makes it tempting to believe this somehow makes him different regarding the more problematic side of his character.

In the comics, we have a bit of dialogue in 1789 that shows how deeply involved in the slave trade Hob was: “I sort of started it,” said with a hint of, dare I say, pride? And then brushing off Dream’s concerns by saying, “It’s a living.” Twice.

(They changed this to, “It’s just how it’s done”, and a shrug in the show.)

And it’s true: If this had been integrated into the show, it would have painted him in an even worse light. However, I personally think it was the wrong move to leave it out (Ferdinand Kingsley carefully voiced something along those lines as well btw). Because now the show pushed Hob’s whole involvement in the slave trade much more into the direction of, “Oopsie.”

Can we truly take leaving out the above dialogue as a hint that Hob might be a better person in the show? I’d like to really reflect on that--leaving out those comments can’t make him a better person. Even if we change his arc slightly and he “wasn’t that involved.” You’re involved, or you aren’t. There is no, “I tried a bit of slave trading and decided it wasn’t for me.” One could even argue it makes the angle of the show more problematic because it makes the slave trade a “little blip” in his timeline. Things like that can’t be a blip. I personally think the writers made a mistake here, but that’s obviously just my opinion.

If there wasn’t enough space in the show to expand on it (which I get for a side character), I feel they should have left out the slavery arc completely instead of keeping, but then minimising it (that might sound contradictory, but it only does if you don’t look at it too closely). It already didn't sit right with me 30 years ago to use slavery as a side note for showing a white person’s character development without properly examining the damage caused, and it still doesn't sit right with me now. It makes the plight of PoC a plot vehicle to centre white people’s guilt, and I always thought that’s a blind spot only white people have (and I’m white myself, to get that out of the road straightaway).

I’m not saying it couldn’t or shouldn’t have been used narratively. Or that you can’t show remorse and atonement/redemption for the most heinous acts (that’s not the same as forgiveness—I’ll get to that). Or that characters who have committed said acts are irredeemable. But it would have needed to be fleshed out instead of making it a comment in passing. Many books and movies do exactly that. But the point is that it’s never been fleshed out.

“But they had to shorten and streamline it…”—just no. Because to me (and ofc people are free to disagree), that exactly proves the point—centring the white guy while sidelining the people who suffer. I am a bit doubtful we’ll get anything remotely appropriate in the show after what we’ve already seen. Only time will tell, so I’m withholding final judgment at this point. Fact is: It is uncomfortable to watch for people with any sensitivity on the matter.

And yet, there is a lot of focus on leaving out Hob voicing his regret in 1889, since that (again) “would have painted him in a better light.”

While simultaneously regularly failing to mention that he proudly proclaimed he “invented” the triangle trade. Can we really pick and choose his traits like that? Hob is a materialistic opportunist who also has some regrets. That doesn’t mean he can’t exist as a character, or that we’re not allowed to like him (morally grey characters are often the most compelling ones). We don’t need to sanitise him though, or try to erase his problematic traits from canon. The same goes for other characters (yes, I’m looking at you, Dream, and I’m sure we’ll get to that very soon—in fact, we’re possibly starting tomorrow 🫣). If we are talking about Hob’s remorse, we are probably mostly thinking about Sunday Mourning, so I need to bring in issue #73 at this point (this is your spoiler warning if you don’t want to read ahead).

The Fallacy of Racial Reconciliation

Very plainly:

A black woman is used as a vehicle to forgive Hob. And said black woman has been written by a white male author for that sole purpose without giving her anything else to do. I personally think NG got that wrong. It was clumsy and insensitive to POC, and I really hope they change this for the show. It’s a fact that he really wasn’t good with writing black female characters in the whole run—they all get fridged in one way or another, and he even admits it in the Sandman Companion. And then turns around and basically implies that it's all okay now because “nothing bad” happens to Gwen once Morpheus is dead. She is allowed to be a vehicle for the character development of a white guy though. It’s just really insensitive, and I sincerely hope they don't put it in the show this way. And I’m glad that we're seeing hints it might not happen--at least the casting in the show hints at it (from Lucienne, Death and Rose to very likely turning Carla into a white man—we already met Carl, and that’s who he is IMHO).

There is also the not so small fact that Hob is, even in his guilt and shame (shame is always about yourself, and that’s actually very in keeping with his character), not honest with Gwen. The thing about him basically inventing the triangle trade, which he so proudly proclaimed in 1789?

The English who were so good at it? The “Jack” Hawkins he talked about in 1789? That’s actually this dude:

And Hob funded him 200 years before 1789, and enabled Hawkins. Hob was involved in what became the transatlantic slave trade well before 1789–he already funded it when he had money in the 1500s.

He carried that mindset around with him for literal hundreds of years and saw nothing wrong with it until at least (! more about that in a sec) 1789. Dream had to rub his nose in it, otherwise it wouldn’t even have occurred to him (or did it, and he just chose to ignore it--see below).

Hob has been written as a stand-in for humanity, British Imperialism and England over the centuries—with all that entails.

So how honest is he with Gwen? And how long, even after 1789, was he still involved, even after abolition in England (Somerset vs. Stewart declared slavery unlawful in England in 1772, but that wasn't true for the rest of the British Empire. Buying and selling slaves was only made illegal in 1807, while owning slaves only became unlawful with the Abolition Act of 1833, and it took another year to buy out slave owners to actually make it happen)? Because there’s still this:

“It got worse when they did [outlaw the slave trade]. You only needed one voyage in three to make a profit. You could afford to dump your cargo if… you spotted a British Man o’ War.” How does he know? Why does he have these nightmares? We can take a guess…

That’s not someone who tried it for a couple of weeks and then thought, “Sorry, my bad.” That’s someone who has been opportunistically involved from the 1500s and potentially until after slavery was unlawful in England, which it already was when he talked to Dream in 1789. So does his feigned ignorance of, "It's a living/It's how it's done?" really hold? Especially if he potentially kept going, even after that convo with Dream? When I wrote "between the 16th and 19th Century" in the header, that's exactly what I meant...

Guilt and Shame

Yes, what we see above and in all the other panels is guilt and shame. And it reminded me of this:

And I’d encourage everyone to really listen to what Jasper has to say, and sit with the feelings it brings up. Because I can still remember watching this in the George Floyd aftermath for the first time, and how deeply uncomfortable it made me—because he’s right.

Black people/PoC do not need to forgive and absolve white people from their guilt. They can if they wish to, but that’s their choice, not ours. It’s not for white people to absolve other white people from their guilt around the oppression of PoC. And that’s why it could be argued it’s not for white people to write a black character to do that in their stead either (they can of course, but then they need to live with the fact that people will call them tone-deaf). It could also be argued it is something that cannot be forgiven retrospectively, and white people need to be okay with that. It can only be worked on in the present with a view to the future. And as Jasper also so rightly points out:

The guilt is not even helpful (at least Gwen has the right sentiment there, but it’s still falls incredibly flat over all), and shame only centres ourselves.

Forgiveness vs Redemption

Hob Gadling's regrets don't make everything he did forgivable. I think it actually does the story a disservice if that’s our main takeaway, because this is truly one of the bits of The Sandman that’s written in an extremely tone-deaf manner. NG isn’t the first author who did this, but we can take something good and helpful from this, and that’s engaging with these questions instead of brushing them under the carpet—because that’s what literary analysis is about.

It should be clear that I do see Hob Gadling as narratively important because I see him as a stand-in for humanity, and more specifically, English history. And there is really so much to learn from that.

Writers can get things narratively right but still be emotionally tone-deaf due to their own blind-spots. We don’t need to assume malice, but we also don’t need to leave it entirely unchallenged.

And because of that, we can certainly see Hob as someone who has to live with his conscience, and the consequences of his actions, for the rest of his life and struggles with that (as he should). And maybe we can see him as someone who is now, finally, trying to do the work. Because that is what atonement and redemption actually mean:

Taking action to rectify past wrongs. Actively working against the harm once caused, and preventing it from ever happening again. And I hope that’s what he does, and the signs are there (but there are also still signs that he values covering up his immortality higher than e.g. telling Gwen the truth. And we can find a million excuses for why that is, but ultimately, none of them truly matter).

However, it is not the same as forgiveness from the people we have wronged. Forgiveness is not a prerequisite to redemption, although it can be a part of it if the person who has been wronged chooses to extend it. But the people Hob wronged are dead, while their descendants still need to live with the pain people like Hob caused to this very day. So while I don’t see him as irredeemable, I don’t think he needs to, or even can, be forgiven—especially not by black people (unless they choose to. But it is also fine if they don’t, and again, we need to be okay with that). And we could say, “But Gwen chose to.” To that, I say:

I wonder what Gwen would have said if he had been truly honest with her (which he wasn’t, see below panels). That wouldn’t have been an embrace is my guess…

[spacer-case]

...and when the last blood-beast comes to rest unto the Earth, what next will arrive to inherit it?

i drew this sci fi piece for my portfolio, but it also turned loosely into a marcoace au because my brain got zoomies

short version: guy on a joyride (coughs ace) accidentally travels to another world filled with mythological-ish creatures, but they're actually all robots mimicking life with no real sentience of their own - except one lone, lonely consciousness (coughs marco) whose mind was digitally preserved before the rest of organic life got wiped out, and has been waiting a long time for a friend

long nerdy version under the cut:

ace's world is a fun and scrappy sci fi future world, with stuff like his hovercraft that syncs to his body's movements too

he was out riding with deuce and got too caught up in the thrill of flying that he went way out of safe bounds (not pictured: deuce panicking) and got swallowed by a giant sky beast

somehow (i haven't thought that hard about it) he appears in marco's world after this - when i first had this idea i was just thinking of a literal reference to the philosophical concept of animals as other worlds/animal alterity, a la Barbara Noske), plus i like the idea of gateways being where you least expect them

anyway yeah he gets isekai'd

enter: marco's world!! this is a land where organic life once thrived, including sentient beings (i haven't decided if they were also humans), but all organic life has long since died out and given way to a new, constructed "ecology"

it's full of seemingly mythological-ish creatures (phoenix, dragon, etc. but all are also warped from what we would imagine)!! but SIKE they are actually robots; cybernetic constructs!!! each one goes through the motions of life for many years until they steadily break down. their parts get recycled and they are remade to spawn from egg-like structures (like the one in the bottom left corner of the drawing)

and who is remaking them? MARCO! aka the last, lone remaining consciousness from the sentient race that died out. his mind was preserved digitally, but by the time he awoke he only remembers snapshots of his original life. he continuously cares for and builds all the robots, and uploads himself into different bodies whenever he wants, but no matter what he tries he can't recreate anything truly alive with its own free will

so he's lonely and sad

basically the whole thing was an exploration of the concept of a man-made mythos! and the boundaries of what defines life, will, sentience, etc. etc.

but when he meets ace - a real, living breathing organic human - it will change his life! because............because...i haven't thought that far

many questions remain...is ace's world a past version of marco's? will he find a way to restore organic life to marco's world? should he even do that? will he find a way back home? will they kiss? ? will marco get a human body?? will i ever make something bigger from this or even turn it back into ocs instead of op characters??? will they wear wigs???? when will they wear wigs????????? who knows!

but for now it is what it is hehe

i doubt anyone read all that, but if you did, thank you for your time....here i reward you with a secret:

below is an early sketch of this illustration, and underneath that, the composition originally came from A FAILED DRAWING OF MARCO!!!

the brainrot goes deep :')

[emdotcom]

My brain is so full of Bees about Post-Shift 2.

It's a fan game that was delayed for 4 years -- by the time it released, fnaf fangames as a whole were not as popular as they had been, & most people in the scene had forgotten about Post-Shift 1, so not a lot of people heard about it/played it.

Worse still is the people who did talk about the game. Pretty unanimously, the consensus was this: this game is the craziest, most insane fnaf fangame. It's overly difficult with mechanics that have no rhyme or reason to them & tutorials that are wordy, unhelpful, & sometimes actively mislead the player, meaning you need to comb through a lot of text only to be misinformed. It's not as infamous as some other fangames, but it definitely was talked about very poorly.

In general, I think most of these criticisms were blown up out of proportion, but I can't really disagree with most people's problems -- it is difficult & wordy, & rather hard to understand. I think, however, that the game is still 1. Really fun, 2. Not a bad game at all, &, most importantly, 3. Is a free fucking game that was clearly a passion project. Most damn fangames never get off the fucking ground when made in groups because the creators will never make a red cent off the thing -- this game was made by one dude for 4 years & delivered to people for free. It didn't ask anything of you except to accept it as a difficult game & to not go in with wild expectations. The dev just wanted to make a game that was rough, but he also wanted to make a game that felt unique & was fun. & It is fun, too, is the damn thing.

[itsalwaysdark]

aww its kinda cute finding me complaining abt my dads whole lisa thing from 2017. honestly so overshadowed by everything else and also i was so annoying when i was 12 aw .

[3nderstar]

.

[ranboolivesaysstuff]

HEY! Just because I am now 20 I think having something to kind of re establish boundaries would be good! Considering the ones I put all those times ago have changed :D GENERAL RULES! Do not be racist, sexist, homophobic, antisemitic, ableist, or discriminatory against anyone for any reason. Please if someone is calling you out for things you have done or said, please self-reflect and take the proper steps to change or remove yourself from the community. If you see something you do not like, and it IS MADE WORSE BY BRINGING ATTENTION TO IT, THEN IGNORE IT! Bringing attention to problems that just arent really problems with either the community or me in general are not worth it! Please use common sense when thinking about what/what not to engage with! I personally wish that people in the community do NOT engage with people who just obviously do not like me! Chances are they want a reaction from it so it is MUCH better to just not argue with someone whos mind you will not change! ALLOW CRITICISM OF ME AND MY CONTENT! IF YOU DONT AGREE OR DONT LIKE THEN DO NOT ARGUE ABOUT IT!!!! ALL IT WILL DO IS CAUSE UNESSICARY DRAMA!!! DO NOT make ANY comments or content about me that is explicitly sexual. I completely understand that lately there have been bits due to the changes in how I’ve been presenting myself and how I’ve been presenting more femininely, but that does not allow anyone to use that as an excuse to sexualize any features and such that are more feminine or masculine. Remember that femininity is not sexual and should not be seen or created as such just because its there! (for example, the Vtuber costume and chat being overly weird over the added boobs where there was no need for it). DO NOT draw me in ways that are sexual either, such as highlighting any aspects in a sexual way, or making the content something sexual. I am completely okay with being drawn as any body type, masculine presenting or feminine presenting, as long as you stick to this! PLEASE DO NOT SPECULATE ABOUT MY PERSONAL LIFE!!! Making jokes about certain topics CAN be fine, but a line is crossed when it becomes a legitimate speculation or if a joke is said when I have expressed my discomfort! RESPECT MY FRIENDS!!! All of my friends are their own, incredible people. And they do not deserve to be lumped in or referred to as JUST "my friend". Be respectful in their chats even when im not there, and be respectful to all of them everywhere else! IF SOMEONE IS TRYING TO INFORM YOU THAT YOU MAY BE DOING SOMETHING WRONG PLEASE LISTEN!!! There has been a lot of times in which I have seen people be unwilling to change in the face of a genuine discussion, and that is not something I want in the community! I should NOT have to police every single thing because it should NOT take me saying something in order to change your mind! As my words are not worth more or less when it comes to a lot of subjects! And lastly, do good. Whenever you have the ability to. BE POSITIVE!!! The hater mindset is very draining and can be very toxic to both you and the people around you, so highlight the good instead of the bad if you have the ability to! I am so incredibly proud of how far this community has come, and I cannot wait for the future!!! I have spent some time writing this, but it may not be perfect, so I will update this as time goes on and I think of more, or if something needs to be SUPER cleared up, but for now these are the main ones! I will NOT be updating this after every little thing however, as I do not want you guys to feel like the only way that something is wrong is if I talk about it! As you guys should be able to sustain yourself as a community without my consistent input! Imma go enjoy my birthday by eating a pizza :) thank you all!

[biolumien]

heya!! Saw you had open requests. And I was wondering if you could do something with Hoshina with the trope of Opposites attract?

Like maybe reader could be shy and quiet type. Who is strangely not a fighter like he is. Reader could be a sweet civilian or something and it'd be nice to see how the rest of the characters react to their relationship. Though of course, feel free to change it as you wish. Whatever you write I'm sure it'll turn out amazing.

Feel free to ignore this if it isn't your fancy :DD

notes: ahh repeat it with me now the fic got away from me and took on a life of its own... i hope this is okay ;-;!!

cafe latte

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no content warnings necessary. i think word count: 1752

the first time you were saved by soshiro hoshina was in front of the wreckage surrounding your cafe. 

the smell of blood was overwhelming as you stepped out warily, wincing as a drop of the kaiju carcass’s acidic blood dripped onto the pavement in front of you, carving out a hole in the concrete. 

“careful!” a voice called out from somewhere above you. “it’s still not safe for civilians.” 

you watch as the vice captain of the third division, soshiro hoshina, lands deftly on the ground, sheathing his twin katanas at his back. his closed, smiling eyes crack open just a tad, and he hums, his voice muffled by his respirator. 

your eyes go wide. 

the third division was legendary among the defense force, after all, and it was soshiro hoshina in the flesh in front of you! your body seemed to move of its own accord, and--

“um–can i,” you stammer out, pulling out your notepad for taking cafe orders. “can i get your autograph?”

“huh?” hoshina wipes a bit of blood from his suit. “i mean, sure, but wouldn’t you rather get an autograph from captain ashiro? i’m sure the resell value on that is far better.�� even as he said this, though, he’d reached out to sign your notepad, scribbling a haphazard signature.

“i mean–everyone likes captain ashiro,” you say nervously as hoshina hands the notepad back to you. “but—you kept the kaiju from wrecking my—my shop.” you shift your eyes to the front of your cafe, and then back to hoshina, covered in blood and still wearing his respirator mask. “so i wanted your signature specifically.” 

“oh, i see,” hoshina says. he sounds teasing. “business will be slow for a bit, though, with the cleanup. are you going to be okay?” 

“oh? i—yes, i… it’ll be fine. the cleaners usually take… two weeks, i think. so… it might be a bit slower.” 

“hmm.” hoshina hums, removing his mask. you’d seen hoshina’s face on the news, largely in the background as mina ashiro spoke on eliminating the kaiju threat—so you’d known he was handsome, but something about seeing his face in person was different. he felt more—tangible. real. 

“i’ll have to stop by some time,” hoshina says with a smile. 

“i…” you lift up your notepad to hide your face. “i-i mean… sure. i… i don’t know why you would… but—”

“think of it like me paying you back for the slow business,” hoshina says. 

“okay,” you say, your voice hitching slightly. 

[…]

business was slow the next week, as you’d told hoshina. the kaiju carcass outside was pretty bad for business, really–something about the bad vibes, or something like that. so you go through the motions, cleaning up tables, ordering new coffee beans and stock for the next few weeks when business would pick up again. it was hard work, but it was made a little easier based on the fact that there was hardly anyone in the cafe right now. 

you look outside the window, resting your elbows on the counter, sighing. looks like it’d be another slow day after all. 

you raise your head as the cafe door jingles.

“welcome to the—it’s you,” you stammer out as hoshina walks through the door. off-duty he wears fairly loose clothes, a sharp contrast to how sharply dressed he looks during press conferences. he’s dressed in a loose black jacket with a tight turtleneck, and loose pants with a pair of reasonably-fashionable looking sneakers, with a black mask over his mouth. “you really didn’t have to—”

“not like i had much better to do,” hoshina says easily, waving a hand, pulling down his mask now that he was inside. “it’s not often i get time off. and i gave you my word, so i might as well make good on it.” he walks forward, examining the cafe menu. “what’s good here?” 

“umm—the… americano, is… okay,” you say. “i… think.” “you think?” hoshina blinks at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, teasingly. “does that mean you don’t know?”

“i–no, it’s–it’s good,” you say more assertively now. hoshina laughs, and your heart skips a strange beat. 

“hm… i’ll admit i don’t really drink that much coffee, so i’ll give you free reign to do whatever you think i’d like.” hoshina smiles. 

“i–that’s too much freedom,” you protest. “what if you hate it–” “i’m not gonna hate it,” hoshina says. “i came here out of my own free will after all! just go with the flow.”

so you end up making him a latte, doing a bit of latte art on the top using some cream. it’s a small fox with closed eyes and a sharp smile, and you slide it across the counter for his approval. he picks up the cup, spinning it gently–and you try not to look too hard at his hands. he hums.

“looks almost too cute to drink,” he says. “cheers, though.” he takes a long, slow sip, and you feel your heart pound in your throat as he lowers the cup. 

“is—”

“it’s good,” hoshina says with a smile. “i’ll have to keep coming back here. i can’t believe i’ve missed out on this place.” 

[…]

he just… keeps coming back during his off duty hours, dressed sharply and plainly each time. you make him new animals in his lattes—cats, dogs, bunnies, mostly cats and foxes. 

a few times you attempt a very crazy looking kaiju, but by the time you hand over the cup it’s deflated already, and you slide over the drink with shame on your face and he just laughs, and you try not to think about the fact that his fingers brushed against yours as he takes the cup each time. 

you learn a bit more about him each time, but it’s mostly surface level things. how his day’s going, what’s annoying him—mostly what’s annoying him, but said in a conversationally light way. 

but he asks a lot of questions about you. favorite color, animal, food—innocuous at first, down to grittier questions about good memories, lasting regrets and the like. 

you answer to the best of your ability, hesitantly and nervously each time. 

“not that i don’t… appreciate the conversation, but…” you say one day as you’re scrubbing down a particularly messy table, “why do you ask all these questions anyway? i-i doubt my answers are… anything interesting, so—”

hoshina takes a sip from his coffee. 

you made him a penguin today. 

“i’m just curious,” hoshina says, in a tone that almost sounds apologetic. “work habit. gotta know everything about everyone. your coworkers, the officers, kaiju…” 

he watches out the window for a moment, and you think about the large gap between the two of you—two completely separate worlds as he fights to defend the world from a threat so foreign and massive that it seemed utterly inconceivable—and here you were, wondering about how you might sell enough cafe lattes to make ends meet and pay rent. 

“but more than anything,” hoshina says after a long moment, and you nearly startle hearing his voice again, “i just want to get to know you because you’re interesting.”

and in his eyes is a weighted, assured sincerity that makes your heart flip nervously. 

[…]

the second time you were saved by soshiro hoshina, it was a smaller, less dramatic affair. 

you’re carrying out trays to some other customers while hoshina sits at one of the tables, his laptop open as he’s working on some paperwork. 

and then suddenly you trip on one of the floorboards, falling forward with a yelp, and you brace yourself for the utter worst—spilled glassware and maybe a really bad fall—but then you gasp out as hoshina pulls an arm around your waist, keeping you from completely planting on your face. 

he lets go soon after, his eyes scanning yours for a moment. you wonder why your side feels a little bit colder, why you wished for the pressure of his hand against your side to stay for a little longer. surely it was nothing. 

“careful now,” hoshina says, a teasing lilt to his voice, but then he seems a little more contemplative, slightly more concerned. “nothing spilled too bad, right?” 

“no,” you say, a little dazed as you check the trays to find that thankfully, everything seemed in place. “thank you, hoshina.”

“mhm,” hoshina says, his eyes flitting back to his work. a smirk crosses his lips for a moment as his eyes flit back up to meet yours. “can’t save you all the time, can i?”

you sputter for a moment, and he laughs, and it’s not long before you’re laughing too. 

[…]

there are people huddled outside the street as hoshina enters into the cafe today. he seems a little weary, running a hand through his hair. 

“you look out of it,” you comment. 

“i… the…” hoshina glances back at the people outside. your eyes widen when you notice the telltale ponytail of—

“is that mina ashiro?” you exclaim, slamming your hands against the counter. “seriously? out here?” 

hoshina looks wearier at the excitement in your voice. 

“sorry,” you say. “but why is she here?” 

“i…” hoshina looks up at the ceiling, exhaling for a second. “do you want to go out with me?” 

you think your heart stops beating. 

hoshina’s watching you, and his eyes flit to yours, before trying to look at anything else. 

“where—where did this come from?” you ask. you want to hide behind something. your ears feel hot, and he coughs. 

“it comes from… ah, i’m not good at metaphor,” hoshina says, spreading his hands. “it’s so much worse than being straightforward—so i’ll just put it plainly. i like you. i come to the cafe a lot because i like you. i want to go out with you. and some of my… coworkers,” 

hoshina turns to glare at some of the people outside, who seem to scatter at his stare. 

“…were interested in seeing the person that has captured my attention. so… i hope that’s clear.”

does he seem ever-so-slightly nervous?

your face feels hot.

“yes,” you say, reaching out to clasp his hand. “of course.”

hoshina exhales, loud.

“okay. good. not that i was nervous or anything, but i’ve got a reputation to uphold out there, with those clowns,” hoshina says, squeezing your hand back, cool as ever. you smile, leaning up to kiss hoshina quickly, and he laughs, brushing his nose against yours.

and out of the corner of your eye, you see mina ashiro taking a picture with her phone. 

[2hightocare]

DOWN BAD! 02

Synopsis: Despite undeniable chemistry, your guys’ relationship remains undefined, caught between playful teasing to deeper, unspoken longing.

Pairings: bad boy! jungkook x fem! reader

Genre: friends to lovers. college au. slowburn!

Warnings: angst, drug use, profanity, explicit content, talks about abusive home, fighting, arguing, screaming, crying, flashbacks, oc and jk are nineteen (freshmen’s in uni) mentions of death, daddy/mommy issues.

a/n: GOSHHHHHHH! pray for my girl yn😓😓 she’s down bad and she fr ain’t getting up. Left you guys on a cliffhanger hehe. enjoy🤍🤍

01! playlist

"What do you want?" He says, the smallest glint of amusement on his face has Jungkook's stomach recoiling.

"The regular," Jungkook found himself saying, reaching into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. "I don't have opioids. My supplier said there was a shortage—want to try some new shit?" Yoongi says as he balances his cigarette on his lips, looking into a cabin.

"You've tried snow before, right?" He looks up at Jungkook who stands there. "No, I told you l don't fuck with that shit," Jungkook shakes his head, putting his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans.

"It's on me, just try it," Yoongi hands Jungkook a small bag filled with white powder. "Just snort it and let it do its thing, boy," Yoongi chuckles as he watches Jungkook look down at the drug in his palm. "It won't kill you if that's what you're thinking," he continues, taking a drag from his cigarette before exhaling.

Jungkook's mind immediately goes to you as the words leave Yoongi's mouth.

“You’re going to kill yourself,” you scream, your hands pulling on your hair as Jungkook watches silently—his heart breaking as he sees the tear fall from your eye. Whatever he wants to say stays stuck in his throat.

“I’ll be fine,” Jungkook finds himself muttering, a loud scoff heard from you as you hold his face in your hands, making him look up at you. “Tell me what’s wrong, fuck! I’ll fix it, just tell me,” you cry out. Jungkook watches as your legs give out and you drop to the floor in front of him.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop, his heartbeat stops, and his mind goes blank. He wants to drop to his knees and beg you to not care and run away as far as you can from him, but the selfish part of him wants you to stay.

“Baby,” Jungkook slurs, the drugs in his system not letting him speak normally. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he apologizes again for the hundredth time in the past few days. Jungkook drops beside you, removing your hands from your face as another sob racks through your body. Your eyes red and puffy as tears continue to cascade down.

Jungkook knows nothing about love, but there’s you. The highlight of his days, the only reason he even wants to wake up in the morning.

He hates how he drags you along with him—in every bad decision he makes. Jungkook’s life hasn’t been easy; an abusive household isn’t something anybody wants, but he’s one of the unlucky ones who got it. He knows he’s a legal adult and can move out, but his feet stay glued inside that house because of her, his mom.

God. Jungkook has seen everything fucked up in the piece of shit he calls his house. The blows his mom would take from the man whose blood Jungkook carries. He wasn’t a father to him, that’s for sure. Screams and fighting are the only things his house is filled with. He never heard a bedtime story or got a good night hug. The hug was replaced by a hit on the cheek, jaw, face—or anywhere his dad could get his hands on.

Jungkook blames his dad for the way he is, and every time he looks at you, he imagines the what ifs. Jungkook has done everything he could do to push you away, but instead of leaving, you stayed. It’s scared the shit out of him.

He’s in love with you. Jungkook has never felt anything more in his life than his love for you—it’s almost pathetic how much you make him feel. If your love were a drug, Jungkook would do it every day, every hour, and every minute instead of all the shit he put in his system to forget.

Your love is pure and innocent—everything that Jungkook isn’t. Every time he looks at you, he’s afraid he will break you. He wishes you could realize how unfixable he is and leave—but instead, you’re on your knees begging for him to be better.

How badly did he want to be better; so he could be with you.

“Stop saying sorry and stop doing it, fuck,” you sob, your fist holding onto his hoodie—your knuckles turning white from fear that if you let him go, he’ll vanish.

“You’re better than this. I know you are,” you cry, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, wetting his hoodie with your tears. “Please stop, you could die.” you beg desperately, like a child would.

“Shh,” he comforts, his hand rubbing your back as you sob into him, “I’m sorry.”

As Jungkook walked, the guilt inside him consumed him more and more. The hurt expression on your face after he disrespected you remained etched in his mind, feeling like someone was poking his heart with a needle with each step he took.

Similarly, the weight of the small bag in the pocket of his sweater sent a sense of panic through his body. He hadn’t planned on taking it, but the moment it was placed in his hand, he couldn’t bring himself to give it back. Instead, he bit his tongue and shoved it into his pocket.

His heart sank as an image flashed in his mind of what your reaction would be if you ever found out. With a shake of his head, he buried the thought deep within him before reaching the main door of his house.

Jungkook’s hand trembles as he holds onto the doorknob. He had nowhere else to go, it was either yours or this. He felt his throat close up as his mind went back to you, his heart screaming for you. To turn around and run back to you—like always, his safe space. The only place where he could let his guard down.

The aching sensation in his chest reminded him of the first time he told you about his dad. You were both seventeen—laying on the carpet of your room, staring up at the ceiling. The broken expression on your face after he confided in you made him feel worse than any hit he had ever taken.

“Did you seriously get into another fight?” you groaned as you examined his face, the purple and blue marks beginning to form twisting your stomach in knots. “Who was it this time?” you frowned, your hand reaching out to touch his bruised cheek.

“Didn’t fight anyone. I actually hit myself with the car door,” the lie flowed smoothly out of his mouth.

“A door?” You raised an eyebrow, not fully believing him. Jungkook had a tendency to throw the first punch after someone lightly touched him—he had more suspensions and run ins with the police than anyone could count. Every time you saw him, there was another bruise decorating his skin, always brushed off like it was no big deal.

“Who was it?” You tried again, your face turning to him.

Jungkook's eyes remained locked with the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. “I can’t tell you,” he mumbled softly into the darkness.

“Why not? Is it a secret?” You quipped, scooting closer to his side—your finger tracing his features as he let out a deep breath. “It’s a really big secret,” he hushed, to which you only nodded eagerly.

“I can keep a secret,” you smiled, your heart beating fast in your chest as you noticed the proximity between you two. You raised a pinky into the air. “Pinky promise,” you bit your lip anxiously, watching him interlock his pinky with yours. “Okay, now tell me.”

“My dad,” he said, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“What?” You stuttered out, hoping you had heard him wrong.

“My dad, he's abusive,” he restated. The color drained from your face, and Jungkook saw it.

Sadness written all over your face. Words didn’t come out when you opened your mouth; instead, an ugly cry replaced the words.

“That’s why I can’t stand someone’s hands on me,” Jungkook says, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to escape the pain in his heart. It felt as if he was being kicked and thrown.

“Fuck.. I always touch you,” you bit your lip, trying to contain your sobs. “Your touch is the only touch that doesn’t repulse me, baby. So if you plan on not touching me, don’t,” Jungkook quickly interjected, grabbing your hand and intertwining it with his.

Jungkook loved your touch; your fingers on his skin felt like heaven. It almost confused him how much he looked forward to it—sometimes he found himself initiating it. You were the only exception with such privilege; anyone else who laid a finger on him sent a sense of nausea and shivers down his body.

“I didn’t know. I’m so fucking sorry, baby. Let me help you.. we can tell the police, he deserves to be in jail. Please,” you sobbed, placing your palm on his cheek.

“You think I don’t know he needs to go to jail? For all I know, he should be put on a electric chair,” Jungkook spat out, shoving your hand away from his face.

“And fuck. Yes, my mom knows. She fucking gets hit too,” he rambled, his chest heaving as he tried to look anywhere in your room that wasn’t you, and for the first time, you saw him break down.

As Jungkook crumbled down with a loud sob, his hands cover his face as his shoulders shake as he weeps, you wasted no time dropping to your knees and pulling him into you, whispering reassuring words in his ear.

"She doesn't leave," he cried. "I keep telling her he's going to kill her if she doesn't leave, but she stays." The cracks in his voice mirrored the cracks in your heart as you listened, feeling the weight of his pain, as the double meaning clicks in your head.

"And I can't leave. Who's going to protect her if I'm not there?" he sobbed quietly, his hands tightening around your waist. "I'm scared that if I leave for too long, I'll come back to a house with a dead body in it," he confessed, sending shivers down your spine.

"Baby," you cooed, tears streaming down your cheeks,

"we should tell the police. They'll help you. I promise."

But his response shattered your hopes.

"No," he croaked out, untangling himself from your embrace.

"Listen to me. If you even think about telling a policeman what I just told you, I swear to god yn, I will never fucking forgive you," Jungkook shook, his face contorted with pain and panic.

"I trust you enough to tell you, but I swear if you say anything about this to anyone, we're done. Whatever the fuck we have, it's done. I will never fucking forgive you."

Jungkook pushes the door open, and he’s met with silence. Without thinking twice, he rushes to his mom's room, slamming the door open to be met with her limp body on the bed.

His heart stops beating, and suddenly everything stops—his hand trembles as he makes his way to her. He nudges her once.

“Mom,” Jungkook calls, only to be met with silence.

“Mom,” he tries again. She stirs in her sleep.

“Jungkook?” She croaks, her voice hoarse as she peeks from her lying position. Jungkook's heart picks up again, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Mom, are you okay? What happened?” Jungkook asks, dropping beside her on the bed. His fingers move her dark hair off her face carefully, revealing a bruise on her cheek.

“He hit you again?” Jungkook lets out a growl, his fist tightening beside him.

“I made him mad. It’s not his fault,” she defends, almost automatically making Jungkook scoff. “Mom, that's not an excuse!” He grits his teeth.

“He isn’t a bad man, Jungkook. He's still your father,” she sighs, the look of tiredness clear on her face as she winces when she moves to her side. Jungkook watches dumbfounded.

“You know, you remind me of him,” she shakes out a laugh, the whole sentence feeling like a punch in the stomach for Jungkook. The more he tries to breathe, the more difficult it becomes. “He was just like you, you know? Every time I look at you—it’s like I’m seeing him. He is a good man underneath it all, Jungkook. You have to understand that I could never leave him. I’m in love with him,” she continues, and every word feels like a hit in the gut.

“W-what do you mean.. I’m just like him?” Jungkook stutters, his throat drying up and the familiar feeling of tears picking up in his eyes have him clawing his nails into his palms.

“Do you think when I met your dad, he treated me wrong?” She finally locks eyes with Jungkook. The light in her eyes she once had is now gone, replaced with dull, tired eyes. “He was gentle with me, he was sweet, caring, he was everything to me. He’s still everything to me,” a tear rolls down her cheek, making Jungkook suck in a breath.

“What about me?” Jungkook's voice cracks, the knot in his throat tightening as he watches his mom shake her head.

“Am I not everything to you, Mom?” Another tear falls, followed by more.

“It’s more complicated than you think, Jungkook,” she sighs. Jungkook feels his heart crack into a million pieces as he watches the woman who brought him into this life discard him.

“He’s going to kill you one day,” Jungkook speaks, wiping the tears from his eyes before clearing his voice. “He’s going to kill you, and you’re going to let it happen.”

“He wouldn’t do that to me,” she whispers into the silence.

“He wouldn’t?” A shocked laugh leaves Jungkook's lips as he can’t believe what he just heard. “He fucking wouldn’t? He fucking hits you? Aren’t you fucking scared that one day he throws the wrong punch?” Jungkook shouts, anger taking over.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” she snaps. “I’m your mother, and you don’t get to fucking talk to me like that.”

“Well, you’re a shitty mother. A good mother would put their child first. The only reason I’m still here is because of you!” Jungkook snaps back, his frustration growing stronger as he watches his mom stay motionless.

“I keep coming back because I’m scared he’ll kill you. But apparently, you don’t give a fuck,” he breathes out, his hand tugging on his hair—feeling almost manic at the lack of his mother's reaction.

“Every hit he took on me, you blamed it on me. When all I did was try to protect you. But you always choose him. So fucking next time he comes in through those doors and has his way with you, don’t come running or yelling my name to come and save you,” Jungkook spits out before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him with a loud bang.

Jungkook's mind kept racing, never shutting up for a moment, allowing him to think. His brain was filled with repetitions of everything his mom just said. The words "he was just like you, you know? Every time I look at you-it's like I'm seeing him" kept getting repeated in his head over and over again without a break.

Screams of his mom asking for him to save her echoed in his brain, the weight of his guilt and the haunting memories that plagued his mind had Jungkook pulling out the small baggie from his sweater, moving to the small desk in his room.

Jungkook dropped the white powder on the surface, making a line. Without hesitation, Jungkook leaned over, pinching one of his nostrils before snorting.

A sharp burning, stinging sensation spread through Jungkook's nose as he sniffed, rubbing off the remaining powder.

Jungkook dropped onto his bed in a star position as he stared at the ceiling, the feeling of numbness taking over his body. His muscles relaxed as the drug entered his bloodstream, sending a sense of euphoria—a warm feeling spread throughout his body, making him groan in pleasure.

And for once, the voices finally stopped.

It was embarrassing how you found yourself looking for the man you were in love with every corner of the campus. You started with the lockers and hallways, peeking through every classroom, hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the boy who left you standing in your angel costume Saturday night.

You had debated on running after him; the guilt that weighed you down from the slap was intense. Your touch was supposed to be his only gateway, instead, you used it against him to hurt him the same way his dad does. As messed up as his words were, it didn’t compare.

“Have you seen Jungkook?” You ask, poking Dahlia on the shoulder. She turns to look at you, mouth filled with food as she nods without saying anything.

“You have?” Your eyebrow raises as she continues to nod eagerly.

“Y-yeah, he’s ou-outside, in the corner,” Dahlia finally says, swallowing her food. You throw a small ‘thank you’ and rush outside.

As you run to the corner where everybody meets up to smoke, you curse out loud as you trip on the crack of the pavement before changing your pace to walking instead.

Your eyes meet his in an instant as you pass the corner, the lit-up joint hanging from his lips. You look around to see Taehyung and Jimin with worried looks on their faces. As you walk closer to them, Jungkook passes the joint to his friend before crossing his arms in front of him, flexing his muscles. If you weren’t so mad at him, you would find it hot.

“What’s up, pretty,” Taehyung says, trying to break the awkward silence as he takes a hit off the joint before passing it to Jimin, who looks uncomfortable as hell.

“Hey,” you acknowledge them both, giving polite head nods before turning your attention to the boy in the middle, his eyes bloodshot red with a small grin decorating his handsome face.

“What’s so funny?” You snap, crossing your arms in front of you. A loud laugh slips out of his mouth, shocking the boys beside him. “Hi baby,” he says, his eyes dropping low as he moves closer to you. You push him away with a hand on his chest, making him pout.

“Rude,” he playfully scoffs, leaning back onto the wall and reaching for the blunt on Taehyung’s fingers as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“That’s enough,” you say, taking away the joint from Taehyung’s hand as Jungkook was about to reach for it.

“This is our cue to leave. Let’s go,” Taehyung hurries off, pulling on his blonde friends arm, before they both mutter something under their breaths as they disappear around the corner.

“Don’t throw that, it’s some good shit, and I just bought it,” Jungkook chuckles, reaching for it only for you to push him away.

“Alright then,” you pull the rolled-up paper up to your lips and take a drag. Jungkook's face drops, and suddenly nothing is funny. His hand immediately shoots up and yanks the joint out of your mouth before throwing it on the ground and stomping on it.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jungkook roars, watching you cough loudly as white smoke rushes out of your mouth.

“Fuck, what were you thinking?” He panics, rubbing a hand over your back to coax your coughing fit. Your throat and chest burn as you continue to cough.

“Don’t ever do that shit again, do you hear me? It’s not good for you,” Jungkook sighs, his rough hand drawing circles down your back as you finally calm down.

“So, you agree it’s not good for you?” You say, your voice hoarse from all the coughing. “Let’s not do this right now, yn,” he pulls on your arm as he walks you to the parking lot. “You never want to do anything,” you yank your arm from his grip. Jungkook takes a deep breath, trying his best not to snap at you.

“Just get in the car, baby,” he continues, opening the passenger door for you. Instead, you push him off and slam the door shut.

“You’re high as fuck; you can’t drive, asshole,” you snap, throwing your arms in the air in anger. “And you’re not?” he clenches his teeth. “I took one hit,” you shove a finger in his face.

“Yeah, a big-ass one. Before you know it, you’ll be high, so get in the fucking car or I’ll put you in it myself,” he snaps. “You wouldn’t dare,” you spit out, and before you know it, your ass is in the air as he hauls you over his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t?” Jungkook mutters under his breath as he opens the car door and sits you down on the seat, reaching for the seatbelt and strapping you in. “Where are you taking me?” You roll your eyes as he sits down beside you.

“To your fucking house,” he says, pulling out of the parking lot of the school and driving you home.

The whole car ride is filled with silence; neither of you decides to utter a word. The moment the car stops in front of your house, you hurriedly unbuckle your seatbelt and open your door before sprinting to your door, unlocking it, and disappearing inside. Jungkook almost screams into his hands, wanting to throw a whole tantrum in this car, but he decides otherwise.

With a loud sigh, he turns off the car, turns to the back seat, gets his sweater, and jumps out of the car. He takes the same route he always did when he showed up at your house, climbing himself over the picket fence before climbing the tree next to your window.

The window is opened as you sit on the ground of your room, your knees up to your chest. Jungkook throws his sweater in first before jumping in.

Then his heart dropped, your small hands hold the tiny bag that was in the pocket of his sweater that had fallen out.

“What’s this, Jungkook?” You voice out, and Jungkook doesn’t miss the wavering of your voice as you finally look up at him. His heart might just have been stabbed by your shocked expression, the betrayal and the pain etched in your expressions send a shooting pain in his heart.

“Baby-“

“Don’t fucking baby me! What the fuck is this?” You interrupt him, your hand shaking as you think of every possible drug that could be in the bag. Jungkook didn’t reply; the words suddenly died in his mouth.

“Is this a way of pushing me away?” You ask, tears starting to flow down your cheeks, mixing with your anger and heartbreak.

“Did something happen at home again? Why? Fuck, why?” You cry, a soul-crushing sob that comes out of you, which has Jungkook coming back to his senses. He feels like shit, and that word doesn’t even cover half of what he’s feeling.

“Please tell me why? I’ll do anything. Let me help you, just fucking stop doing this shit, baby.” You cry, pulling his body to yours, wrapping your arms around his waist, crying into his uniform.

“Use me, scream at me, tell me horrible shit if that helps. Just don’t ever touch any drugs, Jungkook. I don’t know what I would do if you died.” You whisper the last words as you sob into his arms, begging for him to stop. “I’m never leaving your side, so get that into your head. If this is your way of pushing me away, it won’t work.” You sob.

And that’s where everything clicks for Jungkook. His mind thinks back to his mom, “You have to understand that I could never leave him. I’m in love with him,” and his heart drops to the ground. All the walls he took so long to build collapse. He was just like his dad—Jungkook wanted to say he wasn’t, but here he was, hurting you, making you sob into his arms, begging for him to change. The same thing his mom does anytime his father would get drunk.

“I’m not good for you,” Jungkook finally speaks, his hands cupping your face. “I’m not good for you.” He repeats, and you shake your head disapprovingly repeatedly. “Stop.” You cry, your tears wetting Jungkook's palms as he repeats the same thing over again.

“You deserve someone so much fucking better, baby,” Jungkook whispers, dropping his forehead to yours. “You deserve so much better than me. I can’t give you anything, baby, besides heartache and pain.” He continues as you repeat ‘no’ over and over again under your breath.

“Please don’t leave me,” you cry, as he untangles himself from you, pushing your hand away gently when you try to reach for him.

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t leave. Stay the night; we’ll talk about this in the morning.” That was the last thing Jungkook heard as he jumped out of the window and ran to his car, leaving his heart in the hands of the girl crying on the floor, praying for him to be safe.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Batboys with reader who has a silly collection of stickers and puts them over their faces, their suits or their weapons (most of them with silly encouraging phrases to cheer them up lol)

Dick

He bought you a set of stickers once and ever since it’s been his ultimate downfall but in the most humorous way possible.

Dick has a sense of humour, he didn’t mind a couple of stickers here and there, even going so far as to keep the cute cartoon mushroom stickers that you’ve left on his escrema sticks as your personal touch on his belongings.

He even once woke up to a face full of them and when he asked your reasoning as to why, you only shrugged your shoulders and said ‘I thought it’d be funny to see how many stickers I can put on your face without waking you up.’

Dick takes the whole thing in stride and in good faith and loves the fact that you went out of your way to cheer him up through your cute but inspirational stickers. It was almost as though you knew that he needed a little pick me up that day and did so tenfold by coating his hands in stickers that reminded him of your deep care for him and his mental health.

So nowadays Dick doesn’t mind waking up just to see his face covered in stickers and instead smiles and goes about his daily routine as though nothing was out of the ordinary.

Jason removed his red helmet from his hand and could only stare at the stickers that littered across the sides and back either a blank stare as Roy practically pissed himself with laughter.

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, how did I not see this?’ Jason muttered under his breath, scratching at sticker of a cartoon Robin holding a stick in its beak.

‘Oh there’s nothing to be ashamed of in a little self expression Jason,’ Roy snickered, ‘but I didn’t peg you as the type to collect stickers and cute ones at that.’ He then points to a particular sticker on his helmet of a cat hanging from a branch followed by the saying; just hang in there.

‘piss off.’ Jason told him. He knew something was a miss but didn’t know what it was and now that he knew, everything was starting to make a bit more sense. For starters you didn’t kiss his helmet like you usually did before he left of patrol, almost as though you didn’t want to ruin something on his helmet that he didn’t see, at least not at that point in time.

He should’ve known because you’ve pulled this stint with his guns before in the past but what you didn’t know was that he kept a few that were now a little worn and faded. So while he appear a little peeved that you have took it upon yourself to decorate his helmet, he was a sentimental guy deep down who loved anything and everything you’ve given him and treasures it with his entire heart.

Jason’s a secret sap when it comes to you and knows that he’ll come to laugh at all this at a later date as he recalls all of it to you when he comes home, already envisioning your reaction when he’d inevitably calls you out on it, knowing that he could never stay mad at you for very long. He physically couldn’t and refuses to when all you were trying to do was lift his spirits.

You were too sweet for him but he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Damian

Wants you to take them off at first, how was he meant to be taken seriously if he was covered head to toe in stickers, ridiculous.

He thinks them childish unfortunately

However when you do stop putting your stickers across every one of his belongings for a brief stint, he begins to realise the true intended purpose behind them, and would begin to leave subtle hints that he wanted you to go back to coating everything he owned in stickers in his own way of apologising.

He’s stubborn but he cares for you and what you meant to him and if planting stickers on the sheath of his sword on the premise to uplift his spirits, then who was he to stop you from doing so. He wasn’t use to someone going out of their way to try and cheer him up and was more use to isolating himself from everyone in his room and just draw out his innermost feelings.

So you covering his face, suit and or weapons with stickers with cute and uplifting words was something he needed time to get use to, but once he does he tries to keep the stickers that had long served their purpose within the pages of his sketch pad as a keepsake of your thoughtfulness towards him.

This portion of his sketch pad is kept under a lot of secrecy on his part but you find it eventually because of course you do.

Damian wasn’t use to someone caring about him as much as you did and in a more unique way than littering the hilt of his sword in stickers made to make his day just that a little better. Damian, much like Jason, keeps a sticker or two on his weapons but in places where it would be harder for others to spot and would run his thumb over it whenever he felt that he needed your presence.

Tim doesn’t mind you putting stickers on his stuff, he’s pretty much unbothered by it and would just accept the fact that this was your way of saying that you’re thinking of him and his well-being. Tim knew you well enough to understand what you were trying to say through your stickers from the stickers you used consistently.

However due to his egregious sleep schedule lead to many instances where he would wake up to his face covered entirely in stickers, and at first he thought it was the lack of sleep that was making him see things but soon realised that his face was indeed covered in stickers, and would silently stare at you through the mirror as you tried hard not to laugh.

He threatens to plaster your face with stickers next time, he does follow up on his promise but that’s a story for another time.

To Tim it was almost as if you had just made up an entirely new way of communication through stickers, he’s even got them categorised based on their subliminal messages and what you were trying to tell him through them.

He appreciates the stickers and would even find himself smiling at them on the odd occasion and run his fingers over them gingerly as to not accidentally peel one of them off. He loved your unique way of cheering him up and would get a little sad when he sees that someone them were starting to fade or become worn, only to feel a warmth spread throughout his chest when he saw new stickers next to the places of the old ones.

Each and every sticker had it’s sentimental significance to him and if Tim were to ever find out that you didn’t have anymore stickers to spare, he would buy you more sets and act like he didn’t have any part in this despite the parcel having his name on it.

[stqrglr1]

Car sex with haechan

Genre: smut, established relationship

18+ minors pls dni !!

Unprotected sex (omg pls wrap it), creampie, mentions of blood

Pls this is so short and shitty pls forgive the hiatus i was dating a marine 🙏 inspired by true events

You’re bouncing on it as he whines so delicately. Its bliss. Every whimper from him makes you only that much hungrier. You cant stop, and wont stop, chasing your own orgasm as you feel floods of his cum fill you up so good. “Mmm baby it hurts but oh my god your pussy is so good.” Grunts and deep growls of the words ‘fuck’ and ‘oh my god’ spewing from his lips as he looks down where your bodies are meeting and pressing together. “i cant stop, im getting close. You can last a little longer right hyuckie? You’re my good boy yeah?” He gasps and hitches his breath at those words. Oh he loves when you call him your good boy.

He grips your hips, digging his nails into the skin. The flesh ripping yet you have no idea if its blood you feel or his sweaty palms on your hips. But hes helping you bounce so theres no complaints. Squirts upon squirts of his drawn out orgasm floods your walls until you see stars finally. You shudder and collapse on his shoulder. He coos and caresses your back “its okay baby you did so good, so good baby.” You both are gasping for air. The windows completely fogged up, the dense heat in the car finally noticeable. You feel all the creamy substance between both your groins. You try to lift yourself off him but you’re far too weak. Haechan takes you effortlessly by the waist and sets you in the seat next to him. You wonder how he has so much power in him to do so considering you drained him for all hes worth trying to finish, he always leaves you amazed. Theres still so much leaking out of you that your body is clenching onto. Its dripping so deliciously down your legs but you only think to yourself all your mixed juices is gonna be on the backseat of his car.

He rubs your sides, “are you okay babe?” He looks down at you with his big doe eyes waiting eagerly to hear about how you feel. Ignoring the mess in his car that hes gonna make you clean up with him later. “So good hyuckie. I feel so good” you lean into the corner of the backseat, spread out and bare, you smile and caress his face. Pushing his hair out of his face. The sweat making it stick to his forehead. Taking multiple attempts before you manage to remove it from its determination to stay on his skin.

“You’re so pretty hyuck.” Giving him a kiss on his cheek and pulling him down to hold him in your arms. Missing being close to him. “You’re my pretty boy.”

He chuckles snuggling into your neck “My dick that good huh?” You giggle a “Fuck you.” He responds with an “I love you too.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Hey Lock!!!! How are you doing? Do you have any Chrollo crumbs for us? 👀👀👀👀

i'm doing well today anon, thank you for asking!!!!!!!!!!! 💖💖💖 and yes ... i have this chrollo thought that has been floating around in my head rent-free...

chrollo is not a yandere you want to genuinely upset.

he doesn't do 'forgive and forget.' he may appear outwardly courteous, but he's not above being petty and cruel. it's for your benefit that he keeps these tendencies to himself. there are days you can forget who exactly he is, days where he feels more like a pesky ex than an actual threat. deep down in your subconscious, you know you'd never make it far should an escape find initial success. the usual avenues won't be available to you. there's no flagging down a bystander, who in turn will alert the authorities and shuffle you off into protective custody.

there's just you and the dwindling distance between an immensely displeased force.

you're unsure what compels you to do it. perhaps it's paranoia, exhaustion, or sheer desperation from how little you can actively do to prevent what awaits; but you call him. on a payphone, amidst a bustling metropolis. you're seconds away from transit that'd speedily haul you away, should he track the call. your mouth goes dry as each ring sounds. you begin having second thoughts, wondering what exactly it is you're hoping to accomplish—

—when a familiar voice on the other line greets you. the quality distorts it ever so slightly, but your recognition is immediate, as is the way your heart temporarily stops.

he'll ask if you're alright. if you've been resting well, getting enough to eat, taking your medication.

your responses are automatic, like you're catching up with an old friend. he doesn't come across as angry, or upset really; more concerned than anything else. he does care about you. nothing you do will ever change that. he knows your allergies, what you prefer the AC to be on in the summer and heat in the winter, to turn on the subtitles when watching a movie without even asking.

he knows you.

you didn't mean to chat this long. it's a bad idea, potentially the start of the end, yet you can't help asking:

"... are you mad at me?"

he goes quiet.

not much time passes. you think you hear him sigh, but the connection's bad and your brain sleep deprived.

"i don't know, dear," he eventually admits. the pet name lacks its usual warmth. "i'm always pursuing you in some regard, aren't i? and yet... you always turn your back. always evade me, right at the last second. just when i think i finally have you, i'm reminded removing your heart might be my best chance at having it."

another pause.

"don't mind my musings. we both know out of all the lives i'll take, yours is perfectly safe."

[rinnstars]

impressing you!

itoshi rin attempts to tell you he likes you in questionable ways

itoshi rin x reader : fluff, crack, use of brain rot terms, dti mentioned, super bad ending i’m so sorry idk anymore school got me, not proofread + likes and reblogs are appreciated <3

growing up with itoshi rin with all his personality quirks, you were pretty sure you could expect anything and everything from him - whether that be him showing up at your house at midnight without any warnings, or him wearing your hello kitty pajamas after school for ‘fun’, or even eating frozen cheese straight out of the fridge for breakfast. but nothing could prepare you for what the hell he just asked you.

“what.” one chance for him to take back, or more so one chance for you to regain back your sanity from whatever you just swore to god he asked.

“.. i asked if you’d like to play dress to impress together.. you know because youre always playing it during class.” what the hell.

maybe the world was ending, and you look outside only to now be even more dismayed that the sun is in fact shining, the sky is perfectly blue, and there was no cloud in sight. then maybe this was all a dream after spending the previous night playing games, you pinch yourself and to your horror, you do in fact feel the pain as you nip at your own hand, almost yelping to the oblivious rin sitting beside you. or maybe your eyesight is failing you and you’re seriously deluding yourself that its rin simply after being apart from him for months, you think, removing your glasses and wiping it and nope - that was in fact rin, still wearing a blank face that youre far too used to.

“do you even have a roblox account..” you were 100% sure that whatever horror games you’ve seen him play does not involve roblox and he’s probably more likely to be a discord mod than a roblox player - credited to you friending him on steam and seeing the horror of games he has bought on that app

“.. ill make one now.” and you think maybe blue lock has actually rotted rin’s mind or maybe his friends there has corrupted the rin you once knew.

and instead of spending your math class, you know paying attention and doing the work assigned, there you were at the back row playing dress to impress with itoshi rin attempting his best but clearly not dressing to impress anyone to say the least.

and maybe this is a miracle and an awakening because you were so sure since a little kid that itoshi rin, your best friend in this entire world, do not have any weakness - whether that be in sports (for obvious reasons), in arts (getting an A even though he ‘winged it’), in games (carried you in shooting games and horror games) that maybe you’ve finally discovered his achilles heels that is apparently fashion.. and handling getting humbled by kids on roblox.

“why the hell is this kid calling my outfit skibidi toilet” if anything, in your honest reaction, you’d call me something worst than that looking at the total mess of a outfit he was wearing because why the hell is he wearing two hairs at once that do not merge at all. in fact, you’d be polite to even call whatever he’s just made an outfit in the first place because it looks like he genuinely spun a wheel and picked pieces at random.

even funnier is that you can practically see rin’s ear letting out steam - clearly upset that he’s apparently not winning the top place. if anything, you think its funnier because he doesnt even rage like this playing his competitive shooting game, or when he doesnt get a good grade for his exams, or even when he drops his ice cream when you were little, only when he plays soccer and apparently dress to impress. now maybe with his ego, or whatever he said learnt at blue lock, would be able to let him score a goal (win top place with a good outfit)

however, to his dismay, and to your expectation, he in fact does not win top places, not even top 3, by the end of the hour long math lesson.

and to him, he practically just lost the first tip that bachira told him and as he quotes “if you like someone you’ve got to like have shared interest right?” and clearly and unfortunately he just cannot get into dress to impress in the same way that you just aren’t really interested in football which he completely gets. but now he’s in doubt about his own situation and by that he means the love test percentage thing he was convinced to take by again bachihara - failing at a whooping 15% that he was meant to be your soulmate. but if there’s something he’s good at, its perseverance and he will not give up just because multiple kids in the game called him skibidi toilet

and right now he thinks hes absolutely down bad and he is only proving the allegations that he really has a crush on you when hes spending time after football practice to play dress to impress. even worse, hes looking up online guides on “cheatsheets” to get outfits, entering millions of codes to unlock hidden items, spending the entire night playing this game.

and of course, its at 4:30am when you log in only to find one person playing dress to impress and youre pretty sure this is the equivalant to a sleep paralysis demon as you blink all the sleep away in your eyes to confirm the words in front of you: itoshi rin is playing dress to impress in the middle of the night. more specifically, itoshi rin who preaches about taking care of ones body by sleeping early, eating all three meals, doing yoga every single day is ruining his sleep scheuldue for a roblox game. and as all sleep deprived people do, you send him a message to confirm that its in fact him and not a hacker.

chat

you: r u playing dti or have u not logged out of dti since class 😭😭

rin: playing

you: R U ACTLLY INTO DRESS TO IMPRESS… who r u impressing 🙏🏻🙏🏻

rin: you

and you feel your heart stop - and not because of caffeine, or another realisation that yoive forgotten to do your work right in class or winning a lucky draw from the ice cream you share with rin. but then the realisation hits and youre now instead let down because of course sleep deprived him would say such words that unfortunately made your heart pump because of all the years you’ve known him, you know that whenever he doesnt sleep well, he always becomes a different person, spouting nonsense about everything and anything as all the logic that he’s so used to melts away from his brain. and so you without thinking close your phone and leave itoshi rin on read.

and maybe its even worse that when you wake up, you realise rin sends you the number of stars he’s collected over his overnight grind that’s somehow more than the amount you’ve gathered throughout the weeks of playing dress to impress and even funnier because he’s clearly texting the wrong person.

chat

rin: (1 attachement)

rin: is this a good rank bachiara

rin: should i check if mine n y/n’s soulmate on that love website increased

you: shld be 100%

rin: from 15%?

you: i’m more accurate than it btw r u still on dti

rin: ?

rin: oh ignore

you: no lets play tgt actlly vote me 5* i need to have more stars than u

and you can’t wait to go to math class to play dress to impress with rin at the back of the class (spoiler alert: he won all the rounds somehow) now dating (he gives you five stars)

[kissitbttr]

“my baby” you murmur softly against his skin. hands cradling both side of his face gently. “my sweet, sweet baby”

toji hates to admit how that makes his heart tremble with pure love, and how the simple act is the sole reason for the crimson color risen within his cheeks,

“that, i am” he mutters with a small smile playing on his lips, tugging you close by the waist. “you love me?”

a small gasp escapes your lips, as if you’re offended by that question. “i can’t believe you have to ask! of course i do” another kiss presses against his temple and down to his cheek bone,

he suppresses a cute giggle from it, not wanting to be embarrassed if you ever caught him letting out such sound. it’s quite fascinating how you are the only person who has a way to make him feeling flustered. as if you’re looking at a teenage boy who finally scored a date with his first high school crush,

“just making sure” toji finds comfort against your naked chest, feeling himself melt under your touch while your fingers toy with his raven haired. he frowns and lets out a boyish groan when you pull away,

“noo, noo” he whines, taking your hand before plopping it back down on top of his hair. “don’t stop. keep playing it”

a confused yet amused frown make its way towards your face, a small giggle heaves out of your mouth,

“look at you. my big boy” the nickname just sends shivers down his spine, causing his grip around your waist to tighten. he loves it when you call him that. “touchy today aren’t you?”

he responds with a hum, letting his eyes close for a while as you continue to play with his loose strands of hair. he’s so comfortable like this. being with you is his favorite place. no large house nor king sized bed could ever compare if there’s no you in it.

he’s dreamed of this for far too long. when his wife was taken away from him years ago, he didn’t think that he could find a solace in someone else’s arm anymore. he had given up on love and pour his frustrations out in a very toxic way. drowning himself in alcohol and getting into fights was his way of coping.

then you came a long,

with your pretty smile, pretty aura, pretty hair, pretty voice… pretty everything. knocked the wind out of the man, he couldn’t even form the right words when you stood in front of him.

‘s-shit—wh-what were you saying?’ he laughed nervously when he realized he was staring at you for far too long,

it was an adorable sight. you really did have some sort of power to make men weak in their knees

his heart bloomed when he heard you giggle, ‘i said… did you come here with someone?’

‘oh! n-no! not at all’ he scratched the back of his neck while looking down on his drink, ‘all alone’

‘oh—well then’ you took a seat beside him at the bar, his eyes didn’t move an inch from you. ‘guess we can be alone together’

“my sweet big boy—wouldn’t even dreamed about leaving you”

and that’s enough to make him feel at ease. to let go of the fears he had been holding back. to let go of the past that had corrupted him in more ways than one. to finally say goodbye to his long gone wife and say thank you to you instead for being here. for being so patient. for being so stubborn despite the times he had pushed you away. for not backing down because he knew how much he needed you, he just didn’t have the guts to tell you.

what’s that saying about the song you had shown him? if life is a movie, then you’re the best part?

yeah. that’s the one. but he knows deep down that you’re better than a movie.

because after all these years, toji fushiguro had finally found you peace,

and may lord helps anyone to those who will try to take you away from him,

maybe toji will remove fushiguro from his last name and take yours instead in the near future