#maybe I’ll try to make him again though

[seumyo]

Kuroo had imagined that if he ever had a meet-cute with his future girlfriend, it would be something out of a rom-com.

Maybe she’d bump into him in the hallway and drop her books, and their hands would brush as they both reached down. Maybe they’d get locked in the school’s storage closet and have no choice but to talk, discovering they had an undeniable connection. Maybe he’d do something particularly cool in front of her—like nail an impossible volleyball save—and she’d be so impressed that she’d fall for him on the spot.

You know, a great story to tell his future kids later on.

What he did not imagine was this.

He had barely settled into his seat in chemistry lab class when the teacher rattled off instructions about the elements they’d be working with today. Kuroo, who had only half-listened, glanced at the laminated periodic table on their lab station. There were a lot of elements, and he was already regretting not paying closer attention. With a sigh, he turned to the girl beside him.

“Hey, can you check which elements we’re supposed to—”

He paused.

For one, you looked a little startled, like you hadn’t expected him to speak to you so soon. Your lips parted slightly, and your fingers thrummed against the edge of the table, but you didn’t immediately respond. Kuroo furrowed his brows.

Maybe you didn’t hear him?

Before he could repeat himself, you blinked a few times and slowly turned to the periodic table. Your expression shifted into something that could only be described as deep concentration, like you were trying to decipher some ancient text rather than a chart of chemical elements.

Seconds passed.

Then a full minute.

Kuroo’s eyebrows inched up.

Still, no answer.

“Give me a second.”

Ah, there it was.

He could see your eyes darting over the periodic table, and every few moments, you squinted slightly, as if you were trying to bring the tiny printed words into focus. Another thirty seconds passed. He tilted his head, watching as you leaned forward a little, your eyes locked on the chart like your life depended on it.

You would probably set it on fire at this point from how intense you were looking.

“…You good?” he finally asked, unable to stop the curious edge in his voice.

You straightened up so fast it was like you had been caught doing something embarrassing. Which, judging by the way you suddenly looked anywhere but at him, you probably had.

“I, um—” You hesitated, biting your lip. Then, after what seemed to be an internal debate, you let out a small sigh. “I actually, uh, forgot my glasses at home.”

Oh.

Oh.

Kuroo blinked, his amusement only growing. That explained a lot.

“That bad, huh?” he asked, resting his elbow on the table and propping his chin on his hand.

“Not terrible,” you muttered, though the way you still weren’t looking at him suggested otherwise. “I can still see—just not, you know, well.”

That made him chuckle.

“Well, that’s going to be a little problem, isn’t it?”

You let out a small, almost defeated laugh. “Probably.”

Kuroo grinned and turned his attention back to the chart, skimming for the elements the teacher had mentioned. “Alright, let’s see… We’ve got—” He rattled off a few element names and their symbols, glancing at you to make sure you were following along.

Then, as if remembering you had an actual task to contribute to, you quickly dropped your gaze back on the textbook for reference. “You don’t have to—”

“Nah, it’s fine,” he interrupted smoothly. “What were the elements again? Aluminum, zinc, and—what was the last one?”

Still looking a little overwhelmed by the sheer speed at which this whole interaction was happening, you answered, “Um. Magnesium.”

“Magnesium, got it.” Kuroo tapped the page, making sure you could at least see where he was pointing. “Here, let’s work on this together. I’ll read it out, and you can double-check if I’m not mistaken.”

You let out a small, barely-there laugh—so quiet that if Kuroo hadn’t been paying attention, he would’ve missed it. But he was paying attention.

He had been ever since you sat next to him, really. He realized that he paid attention to you more than the teacher himself.

Kuroo read the information to you, sometimes exaggerating just for fun—“And this here, my dear lab partner, is the majestic zinc, element number 30, the unsung hero of batteries everywhere”—which earned him an amused shake of your head. You weren’t exactly talkative, per se, but he caught glimpses of amusement in the way you entertained his nonsense.

This must be the manifestation of that one tweet he posted, “My future wife is probably fake laughing at her boyfriend’s lame jokes rn. Be patient, Queen; a true clown is on the way.”

Now that you weren’t caught off guard, you nodded along, quickly jotting things down in your notes. It was then that Kuroo realized something else.

You hadn’t even introduced yourselves.

“You know,” he said, smiling a little, “I think we skipped a step.”

You paused, looking at him curiously, then back at your worksheet. “What?”

“The whole name thing.” He tapped his pen against the worksheet. “I asked you to do something before I even said hi. That’s pretty rude, huh?”

For the first time since he spoke to you, you actually met his gaze. And then, to his surprise, you cracked a small smile.

“A little, yeah.”

Kuroo chuckled. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.”

You tilted your head slightly, and then, like you were amused at how backwards this whole conversation had gone, you finally replied, “[Last Name] [Name].”

“Nice to meet you,” he said. “And don’t worry—I’ll be your eyes for today. And for as long as you’d like.”

“Are you this flirty with every person you meet?”

“Only the ones that know their way around a calculator despite not even looking at it directly.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but he could see how his jokes were getting to you. By the time the teacher walked around to check your progress, Kuroo had already decided that this was way better than any cliché shoujo manga meet-cute.

Because really, what could be more romantic than offering to be someone’s eyes for the day—and maybe even for forever?

BONUS:

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[cod-bin]

when the walls crumble down

simon riley x reader

genre: angst to fluff

a/n: reqs are open! no smut yet but im bored so pls put in one if you want 💋

The door slammed shut behind Simon, rattling the picture frames on the wall. You flinched at the sound, your heart already fragile from the weight of his words. The fight had been coming for days—bubbling under the surface like a storm just waiting to break.

And now it had.

“You don’t get it,” Simon growled, pacing the room like a man caged in his own mind. His voice was rough, raw, laced with something dangerously close to desperation. His hands trembled at his sides, clenched into fists as if trying to contain something inside himself. “You sit here, safe, while I’m out there, watchin’ mates drop left and right, wonderin’ if I’ll be next. And I come back, and it’s like—it’s like you don’t even realize what could happen!”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. “I realize, Simon,” you shot back, voice shaking. “Every time you leave, I don’t sleep. I don’t breathe right until I hear from you. You think I don’t know what could happen?”

His eyes were wild, dark with something deeper than anger—fear. “Then why do you stay?” His voice cracked on the last word. “Why do you put yourself through this?”

You stared at him, chest tight, nails digging into your palms. “Because I love you, you idiot.”

Silence.

For the first time, Simon was still. His breath came in ragged pulls, shoulders rising and falling like he’d just taken a hit. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, eyes darting away like he couldn’t bear to look at you.

“Love me,” he scoffed, voice hollow. “You love a ghost, then. ’Cause that’s all that’s left.”

Your throat tightened. “Don’t say that.”

“But it’s true, innit?” His voice was barely above a whisper now, something broken clawing its way out. “You don’t know what I’ve done. The blood on my hands. If you did, you wouldn’t—” He stopped, sucking in a sharp breath. “Shouldn’t love me.”

The air between you was thick, suffocating. You took a step forward, but he flinched—like you might burn him if you got too close.

“Simon,” you whispered, heart aching. “Look at me.”

He didn’t. His jaw was locked tight, fists still shaking at his sides. The man before you—this wasn’t Ghost, the hardened soldier, the unshakable force. This was Simon. A man so used to losing people that he’d rather push you away than watch you be another name etched into the gravestones of his past.

But you weren’t going anywhere.

Slowly, cautiously, you reached out, fingers brushing against his wrist. He tensed—but didn’t pull away.

“I know who you are,” you said, voice steady now, because if he couldn’t believe in himself, then you’d do it for him. “And I know you think you don’t deserve this. Don’t deserve me. But you do.”

His breath hitched.

“You are not just what you’ve done, Simon,” you continued, stepping closer. “You’re the man who makes me coffee even though you hate the smell. You’re the man who tugs me closer in his sleep, even when he doesn’t realize it. You’re the man who comes back to me, every time, no matter how much it hurts.”

A sharp inhale. His fingers twitched beneath yours.

“You think you’re a ghost?” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper now. “Then why can I feel you?”

Simon finally—finally—looked at you. And for the first time, the walls cracked.

His face crumpled, and before you could say another word, he broke. His body folded into yours, arms coming around you like a man gripping onto his last tether to life. His breaths were shaky, uneven, his forehead pressed to your shoulder as if he was trying to hide.

You held him, fingers threading through his hair, murmuring soft reassurances into his skin. “I’ve got you,” you whispered. “I’ve always got you.”

And in that moment, Simon Riley—Ghost, the legend, the soldier who never faltered—let himself be held. Let himself believe, just for a second, that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t lost.

That maybe he was finally home.

[revelboo]

Ratchet anon here holy- I loved it so much aaaaa!!! 🧡🧡🧡🤍🤍🤍 Thank you Rev!✨️

Can you tell I have a soft spot for TFP Ratchet?

18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

The Weakends Pt 14

TFP Ratchet x Reader

• Cheek resting on your arm, your head lifts when the warmth of Ratchet’s frame leaves you, watching him mass shift and slide off the berth. After finally making it inside his habsuite, you’d spent the rest of the night tangled in each other, whispering softly between lovemaking. You’d told him about your childhood, your awkward first romance, your family and he’d told you about Iacon before the war, about the medics he’d trained with, the ones he’d lost. Watching him move around the habsuite, you’re not the least bit motivated to move from where you’re sprawled on your belly.

• Filling a dish with warm water and fetching an energon cube and one of the tiny bottles of water for you, he slides everything but the energon cube near you. Aware of you watching him as he tips it back and drinks. And Primus, the way your eyes slowly slide over him, lips curling slightly, expression possessive, sinks into him. Makes him feel so much younger than he is. Like he’s desirable. “If you keep staring at me like that, I’ll end up inside you again,” he mutters as he lowers the empty energon cube. Hears your laughter and his spark warms as he sets a knee on the berth and mass shifts again, feeling the strain from doing it so much, the massive energon consumption for a moment making his vision white out before he’s recovering.

• “Is that a threat or a promise?” You ask, rolling onto your back and letting your thighs fall open in invitation and his lips twitch as he pulls a clean cloth from subspace and bends to dip it into the dish, wringing it before kneeling straddling one of your thighs. Hips lifting at the first slide of the damp cloth against you, he vents softly, fans humming as he slowly cleans you. Those big servos so gentle as he wipes away his excess. Taking care of you even though you’re not nearly done with him, yet.

• Freezing as you lift a leg and he’s momentarily startled by the reminder of how flexible humans are before you lay your foot against the crook of his hip, heel bumping his depressurized spike. And those eyes of yours are absolutely wicked as he grits his denta and dips the cloth, wringing it again. “Behave,” he manages. Watches you stretch your arms over your head, back arching and your foot slides under his spike, instep sliding over the plating there. “You’re going to be sore,” he admonishes, catching your ankle to move it gently out of the way.

• “Maybe I like that ache,” you counter, remembering the muscles in your thighs trembling when he’d found just the right angle and had mercilessly exploited it until you were begging him, on that thin line between pleasure and discomfort. Hear him huff as that cloth slides against you again, taking his time. Being infuriatingly thorough. Teasing you. “Who do you think walked up on us before?” Laughing when he flinches slightly with a grimace. This late, it wouldn’t have been the kids, but it’s going to be mortifying no matter who caught a show before running away.

• “Drink your water,” he growls tiredly, optics narrowing. At least one of you finds this funny as you smile up at him. He’s torn between embarrassment now that he’s not lost in the moment and anger that someone had seen what’s only his. Watches you sit up, reaching for the bottle and he groans when you grab onto his chassis and straddle his hips. Feeling his spike immediately stir as you wiggle against him, throwing back the water and he watches your throat moving as you swallow. “Are you trying to offline an old bot?” He manages, imagining that mouth wrapped around his spike. And your arms loop around his neck, hips rocking as his spike strains like he hadn’t just released inside you. More than once. ‘It’s my wedding night,’ you whisper, lips brushing his as you speak and he doesn’t know what that is, but his hands slide to your hips. Help you lift up, reaching between you to find his spike and guiding himself to you. Feeling you take him deep, your gasping moan, your breath mingling with his low growl, because he can’t deny you anything.

Previous

[fullsunstrawberry]

Waittt you gotta continue with what happened after haechan dressed up as the pirate 🫣

Haechan Doppelgänger (part 2)

(Click here for part one)

word count: 1.9k

cw: Pure Smut! No plot (unless you read the first part), teasing, cursing, shitty pirate talk, cunnilingus, no condom mentioned, cumming inside, and more

authors note: Loooong overdue but you ask, I deliver MWAH 💋 here you go ;)

[nct dream masterlist]

Haechan stared at the text, heart pounding.

When the doorbell rang an hour later, Haechan was pacing in his living room. The costume had arrived thanks to express delivery, and he was now dressed as a pirate, feeling equal parts ridiculous and smug. The ruffled shirt hung open at the chest, the black pants clung to his legs, and the boots added a couple of inches to his height. He even put on a faux leather belt with a plastic sword tucked in for good measure.

When he opened the door, You stood on the other side, wearing a big T-shirt and pajama pants, expression shifting from skepticism to sheer amusement. “Oh my god,” you said, laughter bubbling up uncontrollably. “You actually did it.”

Haechan leaned against the doorframe, trying his best to look cool. “You said you’d sleep with me if I dressed like this,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “So, here I am.”

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. Crossing your arms, your gaze sweeping over him. “You look ridiculous,” you said, though the slight redness climbing your neck gave you away.

“Ridiculous enough to follow through on your promise?” he shot back, raising an eyebrow.

You hesitated, confidence slipping as you realized you might have underestimated the effect of your teasing. There was something about the way Haechan looked in that costume—like he’d stepped out of a cheesy porno.

Haechan watched you closely, the corners of his mouth tugging into a grin as you hesitated. You were flustered—a rare sight for someone so quick with your comebacks.

“Cat got your tongue?” he teased, adjusting the plastic sword at his hip for dramatic effect.

You narrowed your eyes at him, the competitive side kicking in. “You think you have the control, pirate boy?” You shot back, stepping closer. “Let’s see if you’re as bold as you’re acting.”

The shift in the air was noticeable. Haechan’s grin faltered for a split second as you invaded his space, your chin tilted up. His pulse quickened, and though his teasing had been in good fun, he suddenly wondered if he’d bitten off more than he could chew.

“I didn’t buy this costume for nothing,” he replied, his voice softer but no less confident.

“Oh, I can tell,” you said, gaze flicking to the open collar of his shirt. Your teasing grin returned. “You even left the shirt undone. Nice touch. Adds to the…realism.”

Haechan chuckled, his confidence returning. “Well, is it working? Are you getting all worked up?”

You rolled her eyes, but the smile played on your lips. “Fine,” you said, crossing your arms again. “Prove you’re not just a guy in a costume. Give me your best pirate impression, and maybe I’ll follow through with it.”

Haechan’s brows shot up. “You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” You challenged, cocking your head.

For a moment, he hesitated. Then he stepped back, pulling out the plastic sword with a dramatic flourish.

“Aye, lass,” he roared, adopting the worst pirate accent you’d ever heard. “Ahoy there, love. Ye stand before the most daring swashbuckler to ever conquer the seven seas—and hearts. Careful now, or I might just plunder more than yer treasure tonight!.”

You doubled over in laughter, clutching your stomach. “Oh my god, Haechan, stop! That’s terrible!”

He pointed the sword at you, his grin widening. “Terrible enough to make ye surrender?”

“Surrender?” You managed between giggles. “Never!”

“Then prepare to be boarded!” he declared, dropping the sword and lunging for you. You squealed, trying to dart away, but Haechan was quicker. He grabbed you by the waist, spinning you around until they both collapsed onto the couch in a heap of laughter.

“Okay, okay, I surrender!” You said breathlessly, still laughing.

Haechan hovered over you, his hands resting on either side of you. The laughter faded, replaced by a silence that buzzed with unspoken tension. His eyes searched yours, the teasing glint replaced by something softer, more earnest.

“Still think I look ridiculous?” he asked quietly.

Your smile softened, hand brushing against the ruffled fabric of his shirt. “Maybe a little,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Haechan smirked, leaning down just enough to close the gap between them. “Good thing I don’t care what you think,” he murmured.

Before you could respond, his lips met yours in a kiss that was equal parts playful and demanding. You froze for half a second before melting into it, your fingers curling into the fabric of his costume.

When they finally broke apart, you both were breathless, faces inches apart.

“Guess the costume wasn’t such a bad investment,” Haechan said, his voice laced with victory.

You laughed, shaking her head. “Shut up, pirate boy.”

And for once, Haechan happily obeyed.

Laughter still hung in the air as Haechan's gaze searched yours, a silent question passing between you. Without a word, he leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss that was filled with a newfound hunger and desire. The playful banter was forgotten as the heat between you intensified.

With unspoken agreement, you both rose from the couch, lips never breaking contact as you made your way to the bedroom.

Haechan's hands were gentle yet firm as he pressed you against the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly lifted up your shirt. He let out a low groan as he saw you weren’t wearing a bra.

Your hands reached to finish umbutting his shirt.

“got to get this awful costume off you.”

Haechan chuckled, helping you tug the ruffled shirt off of him before pulling you into another kiss.

“Thought you liked this pirate costume?” He teased, between kisses.

You playfully swatted at his chest, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I like what's underneath it better," you replied, hands tracing the muscles beneath his skin.

Haechan's breath hitched at your touch, his eyes darkening. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for the strings of your pants, slowly pulling undone and down your legs. You kicked them off, never once looking away from him.

Your hands grabbed at his belt in a hurry, fumbling with the buckle in your eagerness. Haechan's grin widened at your impatience, his breath was hot against your skin as he helped you undress him.

After most of your clothes were thrown on the ground, Haechan took a moment to look at you.

“Fuck…” He groaned “You look so fucking good.”

You felt a rush of heat to your cheeks as you met Haechan's gaze, knowing that he was referring to more than just your appearance. Your heart raced as his hands traced the curves of your body, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You have no idea how much I need you right now," Haechan whispered, his voice rough.

“Than hurry up and fuck me already!” You demanded, your voice shaking slightly. Haechan's eyes widened at your boldness, but he didn't hesitate. His hands gripped your hips as he moved to plant his face near where you needed him the most. Planting soft kisses on the inside of your thigh.

“Haechan…Stop teasing me.” You moaned out, your hands gripping his hair. “I need you right now!”

Haechan grinned against your skin, “Be patient baby, I’m going to make you feel good first.” He whispered, right into your ear.

You couldn't help but moan at the sensation, your hips bucking against his touch.

Haechan's hands grabbed at your thighs, pushing them apart. He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he traced soft kisses up and down your thigh. Your heart raced as you felt the anticipation build.

Haechan's fingers gently touched at your entrance, teasing you. Your moans grew louder as he continued, his fingers deftly preparing you for what was to come. Your hips bucked against his touch, desperate for more.

Finally, Haechan slid them inside of you. You cried out in pleasure, your hands gripping the sheets as he began to move inside of you, adding another finger. Each thrust sent waves of goosebumps down your, your moans growing louder with each passing second.

Adjusting your thigh for a better angle, Haechan trailed his lips over your most sensitive spots, teasing with soft nips and lingering kisses.

Haechan’s fingers moved in and out of you as his lips roamed, each touch sending shivers through you. You cried out, gripping the sheets while he kept teasing and pleasing you.

"Haechan… I can't take much more…" You whimpered, the pleasure building deep inside you.

"That's okay sweetheart," Haechan murmured against your skin, his voice deep and husky with desire. "I want you to enjoy this."

Haechan began to move faster, his fingers thrusting in and out of you harder as his lips continued to work their magic. You were on the edge now, every touch sending you closer to the edge.

"Haechan, I'm going to-" You cried out, your body trembling.

"It’s okay baby," Haechan whispered, his voice rough, "Let me see you cum for me."

And just like that, you let go. Pleasure washed over you in waves, your body shaking as you cried out in ecstasy. Haechan's fingers continued to thrust inside of you, milking every last drop of pleasure from your body.

Finally, he slowed down, pulling his fingers out of you gently. You collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily as you caught your breath. Haechan's eyes never left yours as he leaned in for a soft kiss, his hands gently tracing along your side as he did so.

"That was fucking amazing," you whispered against his lips.

Haechan laughed softly, his eyes soft and full of affection. "We’re not done yet." He murmured, gently kissing your forehead. "Are you ready?"

You nodded eagerly, “Please!”

Haechan’s eyes were full of longing as he slowly removed the rest of his clothes, leaving him completely naked. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding as he moved closer, crawling on top of you.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt him position himself at your entrance. “Stop teasing me and fuck me.”

Without another word, Haechan thrust inside of you in one smooth motion, filling you completely. You cried out in pleasure, your body adjusting to his size.

Haechan's lips crashed into yours as he began to move inside of you, each thrust sending pleasure coursing through your body. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as it built inside of you.

Your moans echoed around the room as he continued to thrust, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Fuck me harder," you pleaded, your voice shaking slightly.

Haechan's eyes darkened at your request, his movements becoming more aggressive. You felt a new wave of pleasure build inside of you, your body desperately needing release.

"Shit, I'm so-so close," you cried out, your hips bucking against his.

"Wait," Haechan gasped, his thrusts becoming more rushed as he tried to push himself deeper inside of you.

Finally, you reached the edge, your body trembling as pleasure washed over you in waves. "Haechan, I'm gonna cum!"

Haechan's eyes rolled back, his own orgasm building inside of him. "Cum for me," he urged, his voice deep and hoarse.

You cried out as your orgasm hit, your body shaking uncontrollably beneath him. Haechan's eyes were filled with desire as he watched you cum.

His name escaped your lips as each wave of pleasure crashed over you. Haechan's own release was close. He thrust hard one last time, groaning as he came deep inside of you. Your eyes never left his as he rode out the aftershocks of his own orgasm, his breath hitching in rhythm with his movements.

After a final kiss to your lips, he collapsed beside you. Both of you panting heavily. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he kissed your forehead.

"Express shipping was so worth it."

nct dream/general taglist: @johnnysuhbmarine @haechansbbg @chenlesfeetpic @lostinneocity @naqkja @anaisalive @jaeminnanaaa17 @zen00016

[teddyeddiediaz]

He doesn’t even notice it at first — this longing he has inside him. He’s too busy trying to find a job and selling his truck and trying to make Christopher laugh. He’s so busy trying his damn best to be civil with his parents just so he can spend time with his own son. He’s trying so hard to be a better father that he doesn’t notice just how wrong everything else feels.

It starts when he sells his truck, the man he hands the keys to grins and says that he can’t believe that Eddie’s getting rid of it. Eddie scratches the back of his head, “Buck, my— friend, he didn’t think it fit me to be honest. But then he goes and sells his Jeep for a truck too so…” The man looks a bit confused as to why he’s sharing his life. Eddie just coughs and smiles slightly, he doesn’t know why he feels so uncomfortable now.

He takes Chris to the zoo, despite the teen claiming he’s far too old for it, Eddie just says he’ll go anyway, and Chris ends up begrudgingly tagging along. When they get there, Chris lights up. He knows far more about animals than Eddie ever will.

“And and Buck said that Tigers have strips on their skin as well! And humans actually have stripes too, but we can’t see them!” He thinks it’s the most the Chris has said in his time here.

“I miss Buck,” Chris admits a moment later.

“I miss him too, buddy,” Eddie says, and it’s only then that he starts to realise what’s been feeling so wrong.

It doesn’t matter though. He squashes those feelings right down. Christopher comes first every single time. Nothing else matters.

He has a FaceTime scheduled with Buck, finally keeping his promise to the man. Buck calls him one second after the scheduled time and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to pick up. It feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders when he sees Buck’s face. Buck doesn’t look him in the eye though, he’s fidgeting even more the usual.

“What’s up?”

“Huh, noth-nothing.”

Eddie frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he coughs. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I—I know that when I left,” Eddie pauses, thinking. “I wasn’t the best friend I should have been,” he admits. “I said it before but I’ll say it again, you matter to me. And… you’re my best friend, that won’t change just because I’m in Texas.” Something about the words he says doesn’t sound like enough, but he’s never been the best with expressing his emotions.

“I know.” Buck smiles, but Eddie’s known him long enough to know that it’s not quite right. Far more forced than it’s ever been around him. He tries to ignore it, but for some strange reason, he’s feeling quite solemn too.

The rest of the conversation feels just slightly different from normal. Like there’s a weight of something unsaid, hanging in the air. But he doesn’t know what it is. Doesn’t understand why things don’t feel the way they used to.

He has his first real fight with his parents, and there’s nobody he wants to call more than Buck.

It hits him, in the midst of his anger towards his parents, that all he wants right now is to be sitting down with Buck close by, talking about anything and nothing. It hits him that he’s never actually felt like this with anyone before. Maybe with Shanon, in a lustful teenage way, where you want nothing more than to be with your girlfriend at all times. But that was different.

Except maybe it’s not.

Not really.

He lies on his bed, Buck’s contact open on his phone as he stares at the ceiling.

He can’t make the call.

He can’t make the call because there is something different about Buck. Why being apart from him makes the entire world feel like it’s tilted off its axis. Like part of him is missing. Why every stilted conversation isn’t right. His entire world, everything he knows, it all involves Buck.

It hits harder than any bullet he has taken to his chest. His heart beats just a little bit faster.

Buck is so much more than his best friend. He’s-he’s—

Everything.

[slut4thebroken]

Bully stepbro!Neil pt. 2

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Stepbro!Neil Lewis × reader

Summary | Your stepbrother likes to bully you... His all time favorite way to do that is with wedgies. (Part 2)

Warnings | Smut, dub con, humiliation, wedgies, lots of 'em, that's what the whole fic is lol, degradation, crying, pain play?, hanging wedgies, jerking off, dry humping, idk

Words | 4.8 k

Notes | Damn this was from January 2024 and I just got around to finishing it 💀😔

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Part 1

“Are you sure this is allowed?” You asked again, getting more nervous. 

“Shut up and just do it.” You frowned but started climbing up the fence. You made it to the top and carefully positioned yourself where you could just jump down and not actually fall, but you didn’t know that your shorts were caught on the fence. As soon as you fell, but didn’t hit the ground, the sudden intense burning had you crying out. 

“Holy shit!” Neil said through a boisterous laugh. 

“Help me!” You grabbed onto the bars behind you, trying somehow to lift yourself off. 

“I fucking knew you were into that wedgie shit! What kind of freak wedgies themselves?” He was far too excited for the situation. 

“It was an accident! Help me down!” You started kicking your legs, now just trying to get the shorts to rip so the tension would be relieved. 

“Alright alright.” He reached through the fence and grabbed your legs, then pulled you down, making you scream again. He laughed and kept doing it, making the burning intensify each time. “You want me to get you down?” 

“Yes!” He let go of your legs and climbed over the fence. Even in the dark you could see his smirk. 

“Okay, I’ll get you down. You just need a little momentum.” 

“No!” You yelled when he stepped closer and reached in your shorts for your underwear. You weren’t sure which hurt worse; the frontal wedgie or the hanging wedgie. Tears were rolling down your cheeks as he bounced you up and down by your underwear, laughing at the way that you cried. 

“I can’t believe you’re into this.” 

“I’m not!” You sobbed out, just wanting it to stop already. You were so thankful when you heard the first little rip in your shorts. 

“See? It’s working. I think I need to do it a little harder though.” He smirked, then started bouncing you harder and harder, forcing a strangled sob out of you each time you came back down. Your shorts ripped a little more and he adjusted his grip to hold the leg holes of your underwear that were now visible. 

You don’t know how much longer it went on until they finally, finally tore. Neil seemed to be anticipating it because when you fell from the fence, you were still held up by your underwear. You screamed the loudest you had so far when you first dropped down onto the frontal wedgie with far too much force. He only bounced you twice before your panties ripped as well, sending you to the ground. 

Neil stared down at you for a moment, just watching you cry silently. Eventually he squatted down in front of you. 

“Does it hurt?” He asked with fake sympathy. You let out a choked sob in response. “Maybe don’t be so clumsy next time. Let’s go, nerd.” He tossed your torn underwear at your face and started walking, leaving you to scramble to wrap your jacket around your hips and pick up your clothes, limping after him. 

“Hey, I have something for you.” He said, walking into your room and closing the door. 

“Please, not on my birthday, Neil.” You sighed, already dreading his “gift.” 

“No, I actually have something for you.” He held out an envelope and you stood up apprehensively to take it from him. Inside, you found a gift card to a generic clothing store. “I don’t know, I- uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “I just figured, you know… you might need more.” He shrugged with a smile. 

“Thanks..” You blushed at the mention of it. 

“Aren’t you going to give me a hug?” He asked, suddenly becoming offended. 

“Right— yeah. Thank you.” You reached forward and hugged him. When you started to pull back, he quickly reached under your dress and grabbed your underwear, yanking them up. You cried out and tried to push him away by his chest, but he was unmoving. His hands shifted to the sides of the underwear on your hips and he looped his fingers through the leg holes, then pulled you up. The tension was more evenly distributed now, instead of only hurting in the back, making the pain even more intense. 

“Stop!” You cried. He started lifting you up and bouncing you up and down a little, each time hurting more than the last. But the burn from when they finally broke was far worse. You fell to the ground with a pained cry and he threw the torn underwear at your head.

“Buy something more durable.” He said sternly, then just walked to the door. “Happy birthday, nerd.” 

Your dad and Neil’s mom thought it would be a great idea to go on a trip so you can all “bond as a family.” But you hated having to be around so many people for multiple days in a row— especially Neil. The only nice part about it was the fact that it was currently the middle of summer and the rental house had a pool. 

You were laying on one of the chairs, reading and tanning, when Neil ran out. He ran straight for the pool, then jumped in, trying to make the splash as big as possible. “Neil! My book!” You yelled, examining all of the water that was now on the pages. 

“You shouldn’t be reading anyway. You can do that boring crap at home, enjoy the pool while you can.” You rolled your eyes and he waited a moment. “I’ll keep splashing you until you come in.”

“God— Neil, just let me read.” 

“Three…” You flipped him off and tried to find where you left off on the page. “Two……” He waited a few seconds for you to give in and when you didn’t, “One. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” When he started splashing water at you, you shrieked and tried to cover the book. 

“Fine! Okay— Just stop!” You finally yelled, making him stop splashing you. With a sigh, you set down your book and walked over to the pool, getting into it in a much less dramatic way than he had. You went under water for a few seconds and swam a little closer to him before coming back up. “Happy?” You asked, clearly annoyed with him. All he did to respond was grin. 

“We’re going to go pick up some food,” his mom called out from the back door of the house, “do you guys want anything?” 

“I’m fine with whatever.” Neil said and you agreed. Once she closed the door, he turned to you again. 

“You know, you’re pretty hot for a nerd.” He smirked, shamelessly staring at your chest, making you cross your arms to cover yourself and sink lower into the water. 

“Ew, Neil.” 

“What? It’s true.” He shrugged and you scoffed. “Not gonna return the compliment?” 

“I’d be lying if I did.” You said simply, but he took that as a challenge. 

“You don’t think I’m even just a little hot?” He stood up to his full height, the water now at his waist, and gestured to his body. Despite the invitation, you didn’t look at his body, not wanting to see it so closely for fear that you actually would be attracted to him. 

“I’m not into scrawny twinks.” You were glad you finally came up with a somewhat decent insult. But you faltered when he chuckled. 

“Get a good look, then try and say that again.” He said smugly. 

“I don’t need to.” You asserted. 

“If I’m so unattractive to you, then you should have no problem looking.” Fuck…

“Maybe I don’t want to look because I find you so repulsive that it makes me sick.” 

“Sure, yeah… That’s the reason.” He scoffed playfully, but you could see a hint of something in his eyes that wasn’t amusement— it was a lot darker and made you uneasy. 

You decided to just start messing around in the pool, enjoying it while you could, even if it was with Neil. When you went under, swam across the pool for a few seconds, enjoying the silence. You came up for air and wiped the water away from your eyes before looking for Neil. Less than a second later your bathing suit bottoms were being pulled up as he shot out of the water. 

“No!” You yelled, trying to push him away. All he did was yank them up harder

“Call me a scrawny twink again.” He dared, looking both amused and cruel somehow. 

“Fuck you! Let me go!” He didn’t. Instead, he adjusted his grip to hold the back with one hand, then grabbed the front with his other hand. You screamed when he lifted you out of the water a few inches, then dropped you back down. He did that a few more times until tears were brimming in your eyes. 

“Cmon, say it.” He grinned, putting you back down on your feet, but only so he could start yanking your bathing suit forward and backwards, making the burning worse. “I bet you’re only not saying it cause you fuckin’ like this shit.” He snickered. “You like it when your big brother flosses you like this?” 

“Stop!” You sobbed out, only encouraging him. 

“I mean, I can literally see your nipples through the bathing suit. And I bet your dumb cunt is already soaked.” He kept laughing and you kept crying, trying to push him away. “Say you like it and I’ll stop.” He smirked. You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut. “You’re such a freak— You’re totally into this!” He laughed loudly, making your whole face heat up with a blush.

He suddenly let go and moved behind you, but your relief barely lasted a second before he was reaching around you to grab the front of your bathing suit, giving you a frontal wedgie. You screamed and grabbed at the hands, trying to pull them away. 

“I can’t lie though… I’m kinda into this too.” He chuckled, the sound low and gravelly, his breath hot against the back of your neck. He kept pulling you up, but started pulling you back too, so your body was flush with his. 

“Neil,” You whimpered, when he started grinding against your ass, but it cut off into a strangled sob when he yanked your bathing suit up, making the burning worse. 

He ignored you, but finally stepped away, pulling you over to the shallow end of the pool by your bathing suit. He released the frontal wedgie, then immediately grabbed the back of your bathing suit and pulled you up to lay on the ground with only your legs in the water. He kept your hips up, bouncing you by the wedgie a little as he pushed his bulge against your ass. 

“You’re such a freak for liking this.” He scoffed, sounding almost disgusted. “I’d say maybe next time don’t dress like a slut and this won’t happen, but you won’t listen. You’ll probably dress even sluttier just to get the chance of this happening again.” He chuckled, making you shake your head as you cried. “Don’t fucking try and deny it.” He spat. “I pathetic cunt is fucking soaked already.” 

“No…” You sobbed out, but even with the pain, you could just barely feel the unwanted arousal in your belly. 

“What did I just say?” He hissed, emphasizing his words with another hard tug. You kicked your legs and squirmed, trying to get out of his grip, but that just made him lift your hips even higher off the ground. 

“Please, let me go,” You cried, trying, unsuccessfully, to crawl away from him. “Neil, please! It hurts!” 

“Oh fuck—” He started pushing his hips into your ass harder, grinding on you to get himself off. 

“Neil! Please, I can’t take it anymore!” Your voice was a mix between a cry and a whimper as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. 

“God…” He groaned loudly and wedgied you harder just to listen to you scream and cry. “Shit,” He choked out, suddenly letting you go, dropping onto the edge of the pool hard enough that you knew you’d have bruises on the fronts of your hips. 

You heard slick noises coming from behind you and his sounds increased until he was outright grunting and moaning. He let out a loud, drawn out groan, then you felt the hot liquid on your ass, making you cry harder… but squeeze your thighs together as well. His come was splattering all over your exposed ass and even on your barely covered mound, making you feel used and disgusting. His sounds eventually died down, then he was just panting heavily as he recovered. 

“Damn.” He said through a breathy groan, making you blush. “They were right— this bonding shit was a good idea.” He snickered, lifting himself out of the pool. “Come on. They’re probably almost here.” As if on cue, you heard two car doors slam shut, so you lifted yourself up. Once only your shins and feet were in the water, he reached over you and grabbed your bathing suit, pulling you the rest of the way up, making you cry out. “You’re welcome.” You watched him walk over to where you were laying earlier and pick up your towel, using it to dry his hair, then his body. He wrapped it around his waist and started walking in, but froze, turning back to you. 

“Oh and you might want to adjust yourself. Your whole pussy is out with it like that.” He smirked and resumed walking to the house, making your whole body heat up from embarrassment. “See you inside, nerd.” He called out, leaving you with a stretched out bathing suit, come on your ass, and no towel.

“It’s the grand opening. You have to go.” Is what your dad told you, Neil’s mom standing behind him, nodding in agreement. Which is how you found yourself standing in a room full of people who you’ve either never met, or who just think you’re weird and annoying. You tried to stay in the corner as you sipped your drink, watching the clock and waiting for when you could leave. 

“Hey.” Your attention was brought over to Neil standing in front of you. “Pretty cool right?” He looked around at the store and all the people. 

“Yeah. Impressive.” You meant it. It’s not like you have your own store. 

“You’re not gonna join the party?” 

“Um… I might in a bit.” You knew that he didn’t really want you here either, but only agreed because of your parents. 

“Alright.” He reached in for a side hug since both of you were holding drinks. You reciprocated it awkwardly, but your body went completely rigid when he stayed in the position and slid his hand down your back. 

“Neil.” You warned, trying to step away. He was suddenly reaching down your pants and grabbing your underwear. He didn’t pull very hard, but you still had to bite your lip to hold in any sounds. “Stop.” You whispered. In response, he pulled them up higher, forcing a strangled whimper out of you. 

After the pool incident, there was a shift in your relationship. The worst part was that you definitely didn’t hate it as much as you claimed to. That’s not to say you didn’t hate it at all… you just didn’t hate it as much as you should’ve. But you’d never ever admit that. 

“I swear, if I didn’t know you guys were step siblings, I’d think you were dating.” Someone suddenly said— Jonathan? You don’t really remember his name but you know he’s one of Neil’s closest friends. 

“Dude.” He scolded the man, a disgusted expression making its way on his face. 

“What?” He laughed. “Look at you guys.” 

“A side hug is all you need to assume people are dating?” You wanted this conversation to be over already. When he pulled again, it forced a sharp breath out of you. 

“I- I think I’m going to go to the bathroom really quick.” You said, trying to walk away, but he pulled you back by your underwear. 

“You know, it’s rude to just leave in the middle of a conversation. Plus the bathroom’s for customers only.” He smirked, making the other man chuckle. “As you can see, she’s a total fucking loner here so I’m just gonna say goodbye and let her go. I’ll meet you over there.” At the dismissal, his friend walked over to join another group. Neil yanked your panties up hard, making you whimper quietly. “I’ll see you at home, nerd.” He finally let go, then slapped your ass to push you forward, telling you to leave. You struggled to shove the stretched fabric back in your pants quickly, but thankfully no one saw. 

“Hey have you seen my…” His voice trailed off and he let out a low whistle. 

“Get out!” You yelled, trying to cover yourself. You just got out of the shower and haven’t picked an outfit, so you were only in a bra and underwear. He remained in the doorway, eyes dragging all over your body, making you squirm. 

He looked at the little clock on your desk and then shrugged, mumbling to himself, “I’ve got time.” He stepped inside, closed the door and you staggered away from him. 

“Neil, I’m serious. Get out.” You warned, making him smile. 

“Or what?” He stalked closer with the baseball bat still resting on his shoulder. “Turn around.” He said innocently, like his words had a different meaning. When you didn’t move, he just shrugged and placed the bat on the floor, leaning against the wall. You tried to run past him, but he was blocking your path, and once he had you cornered, he reached his hands around to roughly pull up the back of your underwear. 

“Stop!” You yelled and he shushed you, yanking harder. Once he had them stretched enough, he reached for the bat and slid it through the leg holes of your underwear. He used that to lift you up and you screamed as your feet left the floor. 

“Oh and look at that… your tits are just right in front of my face.” He smirked, looking up at you. “Take your bra off.” 

“No!” He suddenly bounced you a few times and you squeezed your eyes shut when they started burning with tears. 

“Take it off, nerd.” His voice was a lot harsher now, a clear warning… 

“N-No…” You spoke through a whimper that turned into a choked sob when he started bouncing you again. 

“I’m not stopping until you take it off.” You cried loudly when he increased the intensity. You can’t take it off… That’s definitely crossing a line… right? But with the way you’re already burning so bad, you can’t take much more of this. 

“Neil,” You sobbed out, but he ignored it. “Okay! Okay..” You whimpered, reaching behind yourself to unclasp it and take it off. He immediately stopped bouncing you and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“God— I can’t believe tits these good are on the body of an annoying nerd.” He scoffed, then leaned forward. You gasped when he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking on the hardened bud for a few seconds before moving to the other one to do the same. He moaned against you, making your already red face get even redder. 

“Fuck…” He muttered, staring at them intensely. You still had tears in your eyes and you were still crying from the burning pain, just a little quieter now. 

When he let you down and removed the bat, you breathed a sigh of relief. He shoved you to your knees and you stared at him with wide eyes when he reached for the button of his pants. He wouldn’t… right? 

“Relax. All you have to do is sit and wait like a good little sister.” He smirked, opening his pants just enough to free his cock. You choked on a gasp at the sheer size of it, which only inflated his ego even more. “Are you a virgin?” He started stroking himself quickly and you couldn’t tear your eyes away. “I don’t even know why I asked that. Of course you are. Unless one of your nerd friends lowered their standards enough to fuck you.” He snickered, making your blush burn brighter. You weren’t sure how much time passed because of how mesmerized you were, but you noticed that he started grunting and moaning quietly. 

“You’re such a fucking freak. You want to suck your big brother's cock, don’t you?” You whined and shook your head, not able to give a stronger protest. “Liar. You're practically drooling and you haven’t looked away once.” He chuckled, only getting more amused when you got more embarrassed and upset. 

“What would our parents say? If they knew you wanted my cock down your throat.” You shook your head again, watching his hand speed up. “I don’t think that’d go well for you… So you might want to be extra nice to me to make sure I keep your dirty secret.” You could tell he was smirking without even looking at him— could hear it in his voice. He was stroking faster and faster, his hips starting to squirm a little as he got closer…

Finally, Neil cursed under his breath, then hot ropes of come were spurting out of his cock, landing on your chest. He was moaning quietly as he rode out his orgasm, squeezing every last drop out for you. 

“Fuck…” He breathed, staring down at you. He only gave himself a few seconds to recover, then he was shoving his cock back in his pants and lifting you up by your hair. He looked around your room quickly and saw the scarves hanging in your closet, so he grabbed one and turned you around to tie your wrists together behind your back. 

“Neil…” You whined, just wanting this to be done already. He ignored you and moved your desk chair over to your closet door, taking off the purses you had hanging on a hook. He dragged you over, forced you up on the chair, then grabbed your underwear and lifted them again. You cried out when he kept pulling and pulling, only stopping once he looped it over the hook. 

“Neil— Neil, wait.” You gasped out as he reached for the chair and pulled it out from under your feet, making you drop onto the wedgie. You screamed when you landed and started crying when the intense burning sensation remained. 

He looked around your room once more and walked over to your laundry hamper, digging through it until he found a used pair of underwear. Next he grabbed another scarf and walked back over to you as you sobbed and shook your head, silently pleading with him to not do what you thought he was about to do. The second your underwear was shoved in your mouth, you started crying harder. Before you could spit them out, he tied the scarf around your head, keeping it in place. He stood back and admired his work for a moment, then picked up the bat. 

“I’ll be back in an hour or two— hopefully you fall down before that.” He smirked, looking over your body once more. “Have fun, nerd.” He walked out and slammed the door shut. Part of you thought he was going to come back in and say he was just messing with you, but when you heard the front door close, you knew you were wrong. 

You cried and struggled, trying to get your hands in a position where you could maybe rip the fabric, but it was no use. After a while, you couldn’t tell whether you were getting used to the sensation, or going numb. You prayed it was the first option because the second option sounded… worrying— to say the least. 

You waited endlessly, unable to focus on anything other than the pain. After what felt like hours longer than he said he’d be gone for, you finally heard the front door slam shut. 

“I’m home!” He called out as he made his way to your room. You could’ve cried in relief when he finally opened your bedroom door. “Holy shit— I can’t believe you’re still up there.” He laughed loudly, making you let out a muffled sob of embarrassment. 

“You must be hurting so bad.” He cooed with fake sympathy as he walked closer. “Does it hurt?” He asked softly and you couldn’t help it when you gave him a small nod. “Poor thing.” His frown immediately dropped into a more neutral expression. “My arms are too sore now though, so you’ll just have to wait until it breaks.” He shrugged, making your crying pick back up again. 

“Oh I know— I know.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, then cupped your cheek, using his thumb to wipe the tear tracks. “You must be so bored too… Tell you what, I’ll stay in here and keep you company, tell you about how the game went.” You whimpered and shook your head, pleading with your eyes for him to just take you down. “You don’t want to hear about it? Alright fine. I guess I’ll just leave then.” You let out a muffled sob and weakly kicked your feet, trying to beg through the gag. 

“You’re so fucking confusing, you know that? You want me to stay, you don’t want me to stay, now you want me to stay again, just make up your mind.” He huffed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. When you kicked your feet again, it finally dawned on him. “You still want me to help you down… Alright then. Since I can’t lift you, we’re gonna have to rip them.” You tried to say that all he needed to do was put the chair under your feet, or cut the underwear, but all sounds were incoherent. He walked closer and grabbed your hips, then started pulling you up and down, making you cry even harder.

“Look at your fuckin’ tits.” He laughed, making your cheeks flush from humiliation. When they still didn’t rip, he grinned and said, “Maybe I need to bounce you a little harder.” Tears were streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed. After a while, he stopped and let out a heavy breath. 

“Let’s try this.” He dragged the chair over and placed it under your feet, letting you stand up. Once he knew all your weight was on it, he didn’t reach up to unhook your underwear, he just yanked the chair out from under you, making you drop with a broken scream. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, the underwear started to rip, dropping you a little more, making the pain even worse. You only dropped one more time before they finally ripped all the way and sent you to the floor. “See?” He said smugly, proud that his “idea” worked. 

“Let’s get you untied.” He walked closer and crouched down behind you, untying the scarf from your wrists. He moved to kneel in front of you and you waited for him to remove the gag, but he hesitated. “Can I see?” He asked, glancing down. You couldn’t answer— you didn’t know what to say. He reached for the tattered fabric, but paused again. “C’mon, just give me a nod or something.” …Why not? 

You gave the tiniest nod and he grinned in response, then focused his attention back down between your legs. When peeled the fabric away, you started crying harder and he shushed you softly, but didn’t bother stopping. 

“Lean back.” He said quietly. You leaned back on your elbows so most of your weight was on your tailbone, letting him pull away more of the fabric. Once they were completely off your body, he examined it, then gave you a disappointed look. “I guess I shouldn’t expect anything else.” He sighed, showing you the wet spot before discarding them on the floor. Your face heated up once you realized, but it got even worse when he focused all of his attention between your legs. 

“So red… It hurts doesn’t it?” He said absentmindedly and you nodded in response. “It’s hard to feel bad for you when I know how much you liked it.” He said simply, looking up at you again. You couldn’t tell whether or not he genuinely believed you enjoyed that…

He suddenly slapped your clit and your whole body jerked as your sobbing intensified. He stood up and walked toward the door, not even bothering to look at you when he said, “There’s pizza downstairs by the way.” You watched him walk out and close the door behind him, as if you just had a completely normal conversation that ended with him telling you about the food he brought home. 

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi, happy Wednesday 🩵

I like the idea that Alec consistently gets a bunch of death threats/attempted poisonings/etc to the point that he treats it as just another tedious part of his job. I'd love to see Magnus coming to realize this and reacting to it. Thanks!

hi happy Wednesday!!!!

i also really like this idea and while it didn't go quite how I planned I am really enjoying it in a different slightly darker and less humorous way than originally intended and I hope you like it too! <3

lumine

-

rotted at the core

Magnus is ashamed to say that he’s not sure just how many attempts he misses. It’s months into their relationship that he starts to catch on, when Alexander pauses on their way out of the Institute, sniffing the steaming cup he’d brought with him out of his office.

“Izzy make it?” Magnus guesses, knowing that while a variety of shadowhunters deliver drinks to Alec’s office like clockwork, his sister sometimes tries to surprise him.

“No, despite her disasters in the kitchen, Izzy knows her poisons.  She wouldn’t put it in my food and she’d notice if someone else had before she handled it.”

Alec says it so nonchalantly but Magnus’ ears feel as though they are ringing, gongs in his head as he preserves the cup and its contents from where Alexander was about to pour it out.

“Darling it’s evidence.” Perhaps he’s not explaining correctly, or maybe Alexander is just as in shock as he is as Alec chuckles.  To have his love poisoned in Alexander’s own Institute is beyond infuriating and shocking since as far as Magnus knows, there are no visitors.  

“Magnus, I don’t need evidence. I just need to weed out the rest of the spies.” Alexander shakes his head, reaching out to take Magnus’ hand and give his knuckles a reassuring kiss.

“What?”

“Evidence won’t do me any good right now. They’ll just get recycled back into the Idris pool of hunters and end up nurse a grudge against me. Instead, I’ll make sure to return the favor granted.”

“Who, darling?” Magnus has a feeling he knows, however he wants to hear it in truth, from his beloved.

“It’s a little game that the Clave likes to play with me.  One day, they’ll run out of fodder, or I'll run out of patience.” Alexander’s smile is so soft, his eyes just as adoring as always but with a determined glint.  A determination to survive, Magnus realizes.  Against the very organization that he serves and who in truth, gives him orders.

“So you see, the evidence isn’t needed, Magnus.” Alexander’s hand reaches to pluck the cup from the magic enveloping it and finishes pouring it out before burning the paper cup with a rune. “Because before they can make a new attempt, they’ll be dead on a mission. My Institute’s statistics can take a few hits.  Now and again.”

Magnus swallows, bile and rage an unpleasant flavor yet he manages all the same.  

The amount of assassins it would take to shake the life expectancy statistics of Alec’s Institute, it’s far too high a number.

“I was thinking breakfast for dinner,” Magnus smiles just as sweetly as he slyly plots. Champagne is perfect at getting Alexander to spill the secrets he thinks so obvious to the world around him.

Or the secrets he hides in order to mistakenly protect Magnus. Distract a tired Alexander with some berries and a flute of champagne and he’d be tipsy and in two bottles and basket of fruit within half an hour.  

Magnus would sober him up and finish feeding him after he figured out what exactly Alec was hiding from him.

There was no life in which Magnus would allow a threat to his beloved to go unknown and unpunished. 

-

i was going to have a long, sort of mock humor about murder attempts but i realized that would only work in this eldritch delight and at some point Magnus would get jealous of all these people trying to murder his man because Alec comes home like 'someone tried to kill me in an interesting way' and it would be like that's his man to lovingly and adoringly threaten, no one elses.

mostly just because in any other universe Magnus would never let himself live it down if he missed more than one semi-obvious attempt on alec's life in front of him. and he doesn't need that in his life. so it's more or less that Magnus will look back and see a picture to a puzzle he didn't know he was working on until the box the puzzle came in got thrown at his head. most attempts happen in the institute or on patrol and Magnus isn't there to see them and Alec only mentions them offhandedly.

magnus is like: do we need couples therapy? communication is key to relationships alexander. THAT MEANS YOU TELL ME WHEN YOU ARE THE TARGET OF ASSASSINATION IN YOUR WORKPLACE AND HOME

alec *literally is just so used to the clave's fuckery that he forgot to share*: ... next time I will?

magnus-next time? did he just say next time?: okay well you're living with me now so that's a temporary problem solved. don't give me that look, I can't trust you with your own life at this point what do you expect from me? *muttering to himself* next time. as if i'm going to allow there to be a 'next time'.

[deceptibots]

“Not Allowed” - Ratchet x Reader

“No, you’re not allowed to smile at me like that.”

Prompt by @/creativepromptsforwriting 

Pairings -> Ratchet x Y/N

Warnings -> None

Genre/Theme -> fluff, teasing

Note -> n/a

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It had been a long, grueling day at the base. The latest skirmish with the Decepticons had left everyone drained, and you were no exception. But as exhausted as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a little satisfaction. You’d managed to pull off something risky on the battlefield—a daring move that helped save Arcee from being overwhelmed by Vehicons.

And, of course, Ratchet had opinions about it.

“You’re reckless, thoughtless, and have absolutely no sense of self-preservation,” he barked, pacing back and forth in the med bay while you sat on the edge of a supply crate, arms crossed.

“I’m also alive,” you countered, watching him with an amused expression.

“Barely!” he snapped, gesturing toward the faint scorch mark on your jacket. “You do realize that if that blast had been an inch closer, you’d be a charred husk right now?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t,” you said, shrugging. “Besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

Ratchet stopped pacing, his optics narrowing. “Y/N, you can’t keep justifying your recklessness with results. One of these days, your luck is going to run out.”

His voice carried that familiar mix of frustration and concern, but this time, something about it hit a little deeper. You stood, crossing the room to stand in front of him, looking up at his towering frame.

“Ratchet,” you said, your tone softer now. “I get it, okay? I’ll try to be more careful.”

His optics flickered, his arms crossing over his broad chest. “You’ve said that before.”

“And I meant it,” you replied, meeting his gaze with a small, tired smile. “I’ll try harder this time. For you.”

That gave him pause. For a moment, the frustration seemed to drain from his frame, replaced by something you could only describe as hesitation. His optics softened slightly as he looked at you, and before you could stop yourself, you smiled at him again—warm, genuine, and maybe a little teasing.

His optics widened slightly, and his frame tensed. “No,” he said abruptly, his tone sharper than expected.

You blinked, startled. “No?”

“No,” he repeated, his voice gruff but quieter now. “You’re not allowed to smile at me like that.”

You tilted your head, amused despite yourself. “Why not?”

“Because,” he muttered, glancing away as if the tools on the nearby counter were suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room, “it’s… distracting.”

Your grin widened. “Distracting? Really?”

“Yes,” he snapped, though the sharpness in his tone lacked its usual edge. “I’m trying to make a point about your reckless behavior, and you—” He gestured vaguely toward you. “—you do that.”

“What, smile at you?” you asked, feigning innocence. “I didn’t realize it was so powerful.”

“It’s not powerful,” he said quickly, his tone defensive. “It’s just… unhelpful.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, stepping closer and leaning against the counter beside him. “So, let me get this straight. My smile is unhelpful because it distracts you from scolding me?”

He glared at you, though the faint flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t twist my words, Y/N.”

“I’m not twisting anything,” you said, your grin softening into something more genuine. “I just think it’s cute that you’re so easily flustered.”

“Flustered?” he repeated, his optics narrowing. “I am not flustered.”

“You kind of are,” you teased, tilting your head. “And honestly, Doc, it’s a good look on you.”

He groaned, his servos dragging down his faceplate in frustration. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” you said, nudging his arm lightly, “you keep putting up with me.”

For a moment, the med bay was quiet, the tension between you shifting into something softer. Ratchet sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he finally looked at you again.

“You’re insufferable,” he said, though there was no bite in his tone.

“And you’re stubborn,” you replied, smiling up at him.

He hesitated, his optics flickering briefly before he spoke again. “You know… I do mean it when I say you need to be more careful. I…” His voice trailed off, his optics dimming as if the weight of his words was too much.

Your expression softened. “I know, Ratchet. And I promise I’ll try.”

He studied you for a long moment, his frame shifting as if he wanted to say something more. But instead, he sighed and turned back to his tools.

“Good,” he said quietly. “Because if you keep scaring me like this, I might actually lose what little patience I have left.”

You smiled again, but this time, you didn’t say anything. Instead, you reached out and rested your hand lightly against his arm. His optics flickered toward you, and though he didn’t speak, the slight relaxation in his frame told you everything you needed to know.

“Thanks for worrying about me,” you said softly.

He huffed, turning back to his work. “Someone has to.”

As you left the med bay, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. His back was turned, but you noticed the faintest flicker of a smile on his face.

[bnny0rgnz]

The Wayne Effect

I’ve learned three things while living in Wayne Manor:

Bruce is a very busy man, so he doesn’t have time to talk to me.

Bruce forgets about the promises or plans he makes with me.

I have an older brother. The only thing is, he isn’t my biological brother—but I’m fine with that.

My first encounter with my older brother was better than my first encounter with Bruce. Dick actually spoke to me, but he was awkward. He smiled at me—unlike Bruce. He shook my hand—unlike Bruce. And he said goodbye—unlike Bruce.

So why am I still invisible to both of them now?

Dick once promised he’d play a game with me to get to know me better, but he always forgot. "How about another time, yeah?" he’d say before disappearing again.

He forgets my name, the name Bruce gave me. How shocking. No matter how many times I try, he forgets about me. It must be because he’s busy, like Bruce. Or maybe... he has short-term memory loss.

I’d like to add something else to my list: 4. Dick has short-term memory loss and doesn’t know it.

Coldness wrapped around me as I stirred in my sleep. Whispers slithered into my ears. I gripped the covers, pulling them tighter around me as the darkness thickened. Then, I felt it—an eerie weight pressing down on me.

(Y/n...)

A whisper. My body stiffened.

(Wake up.)

My vision blurred as I forced my eyes open. A shadow hovered above me.

My mother.

(It’s me, your mother.)

I whimpered. My body wouldn’t move. The room darkened as she drifted closer, an eerie grin spreading across her lips. A single tear slipped down my cheek.

(Oh, you poor thing. Sweet, mourning lamb.)

Cold fingers traced my hair, brushing my cheek. I wanted to speak, to scream—but no words came out.

(Stop... this isn’t real. You’re dead.)

The air turned ice-cold. My mother’s voice became a cruel, lilting laugh.

(There’s nothing you can do.)

Her hands reached for my throat.

"STOP!"

I jolted awake, panting. The light from my curtains cut through the darkness. My hands trembled as I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead.

"It was just a bad dream," I whispered to myself, though my heart pounded against my ribs.

A knock at the door.

"Master Y/n, are you awake? It’s time for breakfast," Alfred’s calm voice called.

"Uh… yeah. I’ll be down in a bit."

I threw the blanket off and sat at my vanity. Grabbing a brush, I ran it through my hair, replaying a voice from the past.

"Always brush your hair when you wake up, after lunch, and before bed. This keeps it from getting frizzy. Never cut it. It must stay long. Do you hear me?"

I stayed silent. My mother’s fingers twisted into my hair, yanking my head back.

"I said, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Mother. I understand."

"Good. You must always listen to your mother."

I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking the memory away. Voices echoed from downstairs—Dick, sounding excited. Bruce, uncharacteristically calm.

A new voice.

I stepped out of my room and walked downstairs. There, standing between Bruce and Dick, was a boy.

Jason Todd.

My new brother.

Jason was the best thing that ever happened to me at Wayne Manor. He acknowledged me. He made time for me, even when he was busy training. He played games with me, helped me with my homework, and read books with me.

One day, while we were out, we passed a streetlamp with a paper taped to it—a flyer for a ballet academy. Jason saw my interest and tore the number from the bottom.

Ever since then, I have attended ballet classes. I invited Bruce and Dick to my first recital, but they declined. Jason would’ve come, but it was his first night patrolling the city as Robin. Alfred recorded the recital for them, but no one ever watched it.

Then, Jason died.

The Joker killed him.

My world shattered. I cried myself to sleep every night. I waited up, hoping he'd come home—but he never did. Bruce locked himself away in his study, refusing to eat.

I prayed for Jason to come back. He never did.

A year passed. Jason returned—but he wasn’t Jason anymore. He ignored me, grunting whenever I spoke to him.

More people came into the house. More brothers. More family. More people who didn’t see me.

Dick forgot me completely. Bruce never acknowledged me. Cassandra didn’t talk to me. Damian insulted me. Jason ignored me. Stephanie was awkward around me but lively with everyone else. Barbara scoffed at me and walked away.

Wayne Manor wasn’t home. It never had been.

I hate it here. I’m not wanted here. I don’t belong here. What’s the point of me being here?

I sat alone in the living room, lost in thought. Then—

A knock on the door.

I blinked. Alfred wasn’t around, so I answered it myself.

A beautiful woman stood in the doorway.

"Wow… It’s you."

She smiled warmly. "Oh, hello. Y/n, right?"

She remembered my name.

"I believe we met last week when I came over."

I stared.

"You remember my name?"

"Of course. Why wouldn’t I?" she asked, stepping inside and removing her coat.

No one ever remembered me. Not like this.

"Say… I don’t think I gave you my name," she mused, adjusting her glasses.

"No, you didn’t," I admitted.

"Well, my name is Vivienne Heartland—but you can call me Vivi."

She reached out, softly patting my head.

"Hello, Vivi. You’re pretty."

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. My eyes widened, and I slapped a hand over my mouth.

Vivienne laughed. "Aww, that’s sweet. I appreciate the compliment. I guess it’s like the old saying—‘Pretty knows pretty.’"

I flushed.

"Is your dad around?" she asked. "I need to talk to him about something important. I tried calling him from the office, but he won’t pick up."

"Yes, he’s in his study."

"Thanks. See you around, Y/n."

Vivienne walked down the hall, her presence lingering like a warm ember in the cold house.

And for the first time in a long time—

I felt seen.

______________________________________________________________

A/N: Sorry this sucks guys, was really busy today!

[winteringdream]

SOUNDS OF LOVE ──── han yujin

✩ ⋅ pairing. han yujin x gn!reader ✩ ⋅ genre. fluff ✩ ⋅ warnings. none! ✩ ⋅ wc. 379

Han Yujin couldn’t help it, he was in love with your laugh. It was already too late by the time he caught himself looking up whenever he heard it, a sound he’d recognise no matter where he was. 

It began at school, his friends teasing your friends about an upcoming test. Deciding not to interfere Yujin had put his head on his desk, lazily listening to the laughter coming from his friends and yours. 

That was until he heard your laugh, it wasn’t unique, but the way it sounded in his ear was so distinct. He found himself listening for it after that, unconsciously picking it out from a crowd, from across hallways, from inside busy classrooms. It became a sound he could recognize anywhere.

And maybe, just maybe, he started wanting to be the reason behind it.

“Hey Yujin!” you call out to him, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Wanna join us at Mcdonalds? If yes, we’re leaving right now.” 

He pushes himself off the couch and picks up the jacket next to him. He grins, watching as you run after your friend. 

“Wait for Yujin,” he hears you faintly say, though he catches up fairly quickly. 

“Going to try and get a toy again?” he teases, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You laugh, shaking your head. “No, it’s disappointing to buy those things and end up getting 4 chicken nuggets and a stupid toy.” 

Yujin chuckles, more at the fact that he made you laugh than at your words. He wishes he could make you laugh forever. That he could listen to your laughter first thing in the morning and fall asleep to it at night.

The thought makes his chest feel strangely full. He swallows, pushing it down.

Instead, he smirks. “So what I’m hearing is if I order a Happy Meal and get a cool toy, you’ll be jealous?”

You scoff, nudging him. “If you get a cool one, I’m taking it.”

“Guess I’ll have to guard it with my life, then.” Yujin hums, nudging you just enough to make you stumble slightly to the side.

And when you laugh again, light and carefree, he knows. He’ll keep making these dumb jokes as long as it means he gets to hear your laugh.

[ma1dita]

all-access

'between certainties and doubts' installment part of the mean!remus agenda, aka a moment from a terrifyingly convoluted teenage situationship between remus lupin and an unidentified Hogwarts student (x fem!reader) wc: 1.6k a/n: remus tours you around his hometown. yes, mold is a real place. fluff and teen awkwardness, slight hint to something at the end? feel free to send requests for them

—

It turns out that Remus Lupin is a semi-decent tour guide, given the fact that there is absolutely nothing to do in the town he currently resides in. 

But he tries his best, and it seems that he’s not used to doing all the talking. Maybe he’s a bit nervous, hanging out with you alone for the first time, but he is a gentleman—presenting a fistful of wildflowers for your very unaware and very Muggle grandma who waves you off to enjoy the nice day outdoors only after she convinces him to dust the tops of the ceiling fans on your way out. Remus pulls out a chocolate frog from his personal stash and presses it into your palms, picking a cobweb out of your hair and almost (James always did call him a wuss) rests his hand on your shoulder. 

He promptly runs into the squeaky door frame instead. Your grandma tells him to oil the hinges while he’s there and you watch him with a scrunched up smile.

“I’ll be honest, a town called Mold was not one of my top travel destinations at all for this summer,” you grin when he looks at you deadpan, shoving his hands deep into his jean pockets, “or ever. But I’m excited! Do your worst, then.”

“Flintshire as a whole isn’t that bad compared to the other places I’ve lived in, I guess,” he shrugs, knocking his shoulder against yours as you make your way down the street, “but the name is quite unfortunate, huh, lovely? You get used to it. Most exciting thing about this place, really.” His voice is coated with a sort of softness that reveals itself the longer you spend time together. Perhaps he’s not used to being the center of attention, more familiar with playing support for Sirius and James’ being the main attraction of their gang. Him and Peter usually catch up where they can, in sense and snide remarks. You watch him choke on his spit as he prattles on, making comments about every establishment you pass to fill the silence, because he swears to Circe he’ll never talk to you again if you come out of this bored beyond belief.

“Often have to make my own fun around here—my dad and I are the only magic folk in town, besides, well… you. Just like me mam wanted,” he chuckles, “Gotta blend in somehow.”

“You? Blending in? With all the trouble you and your friends cause at school,” you muse, and his cheeks redden as you cross the street. Remus buys you an ice cream from the best place in town, and you find it charming how everyone seems to love him, even here—the auntie running the shop seems to have a crush on him too, you think. And then he tells you that he’s somewhat of a maths tutor on Monday evenings for her three kids. 

“She doesn’t pay me nearly enough,” he mutters into your ear, “But the kids are nice, and I get a free sweet treat for me and anyone I bring in.” The bell tinkles overhead as the door slams shut behind you, sun shining down on you two once again.

“And who else do you bring here then?” you tease. Remus’ thumb wipes a smear of rocky road ice cream from your top lip. Your eyes follow when his lips suck in the flavor without a second thought as he says with a sheepish smile, “Usually my mum.”

He takes you down towards the town center, both your arms brushing with neither of you moving away. There’s a sort of gravitational pull that comes with being near him, and you’re still trying to figure out what draws you in. He’s more lively than he usually is up at Hogwarts, though perhaps you’ve never been able to see him up close like this. A bit unguarded, and it’s obvious he’s trying to make the most of this—like he has something he wants to prove to you. That he’s worth sticking around for. 

You spend hours talking about everything and nothing—acquainting yourself with the small town of Mold, that is quite a lovely place to settle in once someone’s married with kids, you decide. Remus points out ordinary things that he makes seem remarkable—a lamp post he’d crash into when he was 14 and learning to skateboard, the steps of a church he had his first kiss on. He gives you bits and pieces of himself that you start to put together to form a picture of who he is compared to the idea of him you had in your mind—the stoic, Mr. Good Sense of the Marauders.

You think you like him a lot more when it’s just the two of you like this. The Remus at Hogwarts is nowhere near as approachable. This one holds doors open for you and lets you grab onto his arm to steady yourself over the path of rocks on the creek behind the park. He’s firm and stands tall here—freer without having to juggle being an all-star student and prankster extraordinaire.

Remus in his natural state, is just a boy who wants a girl to like him enough to stay.

“And here’s my favorite bench. I come here and um, think,” he says matter of factly, making you laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“What’s your middle name?”

His eyebrows furrow as he takes a seat, watching you drape yourself over the arm of the bench, your sneakers brushing against his thigh. Your legs are in full display, a shiny sheen from the summer sun, and he takes a deep inhale like someone who’s never seen an ankle before. He realizes you’ve asked him a question.

“Uh, John. After my grandpa.”

“Alright. Remus John Lupin, you’re telling me you come to this park to sit and think? Creep,” you snort, and he pinches your calf.

He’s realizing quickly that he really likes touching you.

“You’re making it sound like I come here to stare at children.”

“Do you? That or any pretty girls that come by—” you smirk, swatting at his hands. They’re softer than you thought they’d be, even if they’re scarred. You want to know the story behind them, want to crack him, even slowly, just to understand him better. 

“You’re the prettiest thing to grace this town for the three whole years I’ve lived here. Trust me, I would know.”

The sentence trails off as he says it, like he’s caught himself in a confession that you weren’t supposed to hear. The way you bite your lip tells him you did though.

“Come push me on the swing.”

It’s not a request—you’re up and skipping over to the rusty metal set and he follows like a dog, pushing you slowly, then with more force, “You’re not kicking, lovely girl.” The nickname makes you soar—higher than you are in the sky as you swing your feet and look down at him, hair waving in the wind.

Remus watches you with a reverence he can’t decipher himself. This is dangerous, this attachment he feels tugging at his heart as he listens to your giggles mix in with the warm evening air. 

“Wait! Slow me down!” you squeal, frantically kicking in the air and he steps out in front of the swing to catch you by the back of your knees—everything coming to a shuddering stop as the metal chains jangle discordantly, Remus’s palms stuck against your thighs. He stands between your legs now, lowering you until the swing hangs in rest, your nose brushing against his shirt.

An exchange of breaths is shared between you two—passing air in silence.

“So, what do you think?” he says suddenly. The sun is setting slowly in the distance, lavender and golden hues travelling across your skin the longer he looks at you.

“I think this town’s only nice because you’re in it.”

“Oh?” His emerald eyes gleam in the light, a touch of mischief that reminds you of who you know him to be for nine months out of the year, “I haven’t even shown you the best part yet.”

“There’s more?”

Then he’s pulling you by the hand as you both race up the hill he lives on, a rush of laughter and wind that whips through your hair and clothes. Hoisting you up by the waist so that you can latch your foot against the rain gutter, you both clamber onto the roof just as the first spatter of stars fill the night sky. The whole town is in view from his rooftop—cradled by lush greenery and there’s a bit of magic that Mold holds as you look out onto it.

“Holy shit,” you gasp for air, “everything looks pretty from up here!”

“Yeah,” he swallows, eyes tracing the profile of your face to the curve of your shoulders. 

“Think you’ve sold me on this place, Remus.”

He hums, wrapping his arms around his knees as he smiles at you playfully, “And what about me?”

“See now I see why you and your boys get along. Your ego is just as big as theirs!” you exclaim, laying back against the shingles on the roof. Arms thrown behind your head, you look something of a work of art, a marvel he feels lucky to witness. A beat of silence passes before you bite.

“Don’t tell the tour guide, but I think you’re my favorite part about Mold.”

“Oh he’ll hate hearing that,” he jokes, laughter filling the little space between you two. You stare at each other for a while, something unspoken shared in the moment, and through chapped lips, Remus speaks, a half smile on his face.

“You wanna come inside? Private tour, behind the scenes, VIP access.”

You don’t leave until morning.

—

i don't do taglists anymore! follow @ma1dita-mail & turn on post notifs 🤍

[gladionfan]

thinking about my favorite guy again in the whole world and why i like him so much. aother insane rant nobody will read. tumblr has a nice format where i can talk a lot. going to jump around a little bit while i explain myself.

sometimes people ask me why he’s my favorite character of all time. for 9 YEARS. and there are so so many reasons. so i’ll try.

i think gladion is a very realistic and relatable example of a traumatized character. but he’s simultaneously and ironically almost… a symbol of… hope? and goodness in the world? because he’s such a deeply kind & empathetic person.

and i know a lot of people blink at me and say - gladion?! empathetic?! because, of course, he doesn’t seem that way at first. but from the very beginning, he’s so empathetic that its a flaw. the first example at the start of the story- though you don’t find this till late game- where he leaves home in order to save silvally.

it’s in little details like this that i appreciate him more. null is the german word for “zero”, and in its creation, it’s named “type:null” instead of “type:full”. since it failed to carry the disks that change its type, type:null was the name they gave it in order to represent its failure.

they planned for it to be cryogenically frozen; much like the pokemon we see lusamine in possession of. type:null was incredibly mistreated during this process, much like animals are in the real world. its mask is a significant weight thats supposedly very painful for it. putting it plainly, silvally was abused.

so they call it type:zero because it failed them. it starts out with zero friendship, zero extra type, because it wasn’t what they wanted it to be and so it was thrown away. despite never knowing love, or friendship, or a better life.

and not only does gladion - eleven or twelve at this point- steal it and run away, he refers to it as “null”. he calls it a different name in order to make it feel more alive, more like his friend.

in the anime, he calls it “silvally” from the start. people always talk about how he gave it its name, “silver ally”, or maybe “silver buddy”, and that’s awesome.

but i love that he calls it a different name from the beginning too, in order to let in know that he is a friend- that it has a purpose in existing outside of being a tool, thrown away & mistreated once it isn’t useful anymore.

i think people overlook this. of course lusamine was abusive. but it was difficult for gladion to get out of that situation. thinking about his conversation with lillie he has in seafolk- he obviously is remorseful he couldn’t take her with him. it was the suffering of another that pushed him to run away. motivated him to free silvally from its mask and train in the battle royal to protect lillie, his family, too. more on that later.

and he puts himself in a bad situation simultaneously. yes, team skull is a bad situation. they don’t like gladion. lol.

i can go on. and i will go on. this is what i do. on the very first encounter with gladion, you see him interacting with members of team skull. in this it tells you a couple things: he snaps at you and hau, and then team skull shows up and reveals that he stopped them from stealing the totem pokemon.

it’s established here that gladion cares deeply for pokemon- enough that he runs away and can hardly take care of himself, and the traumatized creature he’s in possession of. this also tells us team skull hates him enough to mock and ridicule him. and i actually love this element. i saw someone on here saying this was bad..? but its not, not at all.

obviously team skull is a group of broken people. they’re lost in life. troubled. and this kid comes along bossing them around over what they can and can’t do. it tells us gladion has a strong sense of justice.

even though he’s ridiculed and alienated for his decisions, he chooses to do what he thinks is right. he chooses to prevent the suffering of another. he chooses to be kind. because fundamentally that’s the type of person he is.

it’s pretty implied that the reason gladion works for them in the first place is because he runs out of money.

he doesn’t want to do things he thinks are wrong- he’s the type of person that won’t. the woman at the front desk of the Route 8 motel will say he’s “not as free with money as he used to be..” and that team skull doesn’t pay enough to live off of.

gladion gets a lot of flack for being “too angsty”. makes me a little sad sometimes. i’m glad he’s more beloved these days. but i think it’s so much crazier when you think about the lens through which he sees the world.

over and over he does the kind thing. he does the right thing. i think this is because he feels things so deeply. he can’t stand to see another suffer because he knows what it’s like to be in pain.

this is getting a bit too long so i’ll get into it later but, i think he is also the type of person who internalized and blames himself for the pains of others.

this is why he’s the first person to explain to the player why his mother acts the way she does. he is the FIRST person to tell you about their father, how his mother wanted to get to him again, everything.

of course his relationship with her is complicated and deeply flawed. but he feels so deeply guilty over her circumstances he feels the need to tell you the reasoning behind her actions in order to let you see her as a person. not just a monster. and it’s this way in his other adaptations as well.

this co-exists so much with his grief and his anger. can you imagine?

he is so quick to be angry- he is poor in social situations- he claims even in the end that you and him are not friends. he’s never had a friend that wasn’t one of his his pokemon. his first exposure to the world is a gang that rejects him, bullies and steals from others.

he loses his father. he loses his mother, emotionally. he thinks that he can’t protect his sister. and he internalizes this so much. he blames himself for the pains of everyone around him.

pre-lillie kidnapping in USUM, he says at the royal that he’ll be “strong enough to protect them this time”. post lillie-napping, he has a breakdown.

like- of course he’s angry at the world. of course he sucks at talking to the player and he’s kind of unpleasant to be around. the world has not been pleasant to him at all. and his anger has to coexist with his grief and his pain, and he has no one to rely on, so it can only manifest itself in these crazy outbursts of rage where he can’t control his emotions.

but what i really appreciate about him is that even in all of his anger he can’t bring himself to be unforgiving. part of knowing what it’s like to suffer is understanding that sometimes people are in so much pain that they lash out as a result.

so he’s so so bitter and so lonely and he has every right to turn into a terrible, selfish person who turns away from other people and refuses sympathy and does things that are wrong- but he’s kind. over and over and over.

i will return someday maybe. write another insane rant nobody will read because this isn’t half my thoughts. i haven’t even finished talking about game gladion… and i still have to tell you why i also like animated gladion and manga gladion.

manga gladion is great except for the weird one-off misogyny line that didn’t even make sense & was just bad

[twistedminutia]

A Million and One Minutia: Happy Birthday Gray

The Heartslabyul boys have birthday parties.

Find the rest of the chapters here and the story is crossposted to AO3 here.

“Happy Birthday, Trey!”

The Heartslabyul garden hosts parties on the regular, but this one is a bit different than its regular fare, because it’s not an Unbirthday party. It is, in fact, the exact opposite- it’s an actual birthday party for Trey.

(I’ll be honest, though. Birthday parties aren’t all that different from Unbirthday parties, except there are maybe less strict rules and everyone seems to be deferring to Trey rather than Riddle.)

Trey laughs awkwardly as he’s nudged to the head seat of the table. “It feels really weird to be sitting here.”

“You’re the guest of honor,” Riddle insists. “It’s customary for you to sit at the head of the table.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s not embarrassing,” Trey groans.

Cater, either oblivious or reveling in Trey’s suffering, holds up his phone. “C’mon, Trey, it’s your #birthday! Let’s get some snaps of this cammable moment!” Trey winces a little, but he doesn’t protest when Cater loops an arm over his shoulders and tugs him into a photo. “Perfect! #NotanUnbirthday, #celebratingourvicehousewarden, #dessertking.”

Ace looks over from where he’s setting out the silverware and snickers. Trey grimaces. ��Not too many pictures, okay, Cater?”

I watch the scene from a little ways back. Heartslabyul works like a well-oiled machine when it comes to parties- Ace is setting out the silverware with a few other freshmen and Deuce is somewhere assisting with decorations and food prep. Cater and Riddle seem to be directing others, with students coming up to both of them to ask for help with various problems. Trey keeps jumping into try and help, though Cater and Riddle keep trying to brush him off. I’m just sitting off to the side. I did try to help, but Riddle insisted that I was a guest. I can’t help but feel like it’s also about me getting in the way if I did try to help. So I’m just sitting off to the side, making sure that Grim doesn’t escape and eat the cake before Trey gets an opportunity to.

“How long until the food’s going to be out?” Grim complains from his place in my arms. “I thought there was supposed to be food at a birthday party!”

“There will be, Grim. We’re just here a little early.” I give him a squeeze when he starts trying to squirm away and he settles a little. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” I ask, looking over at Riddle again.

“No. Keeping an eye on Grim is enough.” Riddle narrows his eyes at Grim, but doesn’t say anything else. Grim shrinks back in my arms, grousing.

Deuce jogs around a corner and skids to a stop. “Hey! The food’ll be out in a few minutes. Is everything set up out here?”

Ace waves an arm to him. “We’re pretty much good. All the silverware’s set out. I think.” Riddle fixes him with a glare and Ace backtracks. Fast. “It’s all set out! Promise, housewarden!”

“I’d better go check,” Riddle sighs and heads off with Ace in tow for an examination of the other tables.

“I hope the kitchen’s doing all right without me,” Trey says. “The last time they were left alone for an Unbirthday…” He trails off. “I did want to help out, but Riddle was insistent that I not do anything for my birthday.”

“You said you gave them a recipe book,” I say.

“Yes, but there have been arguments over what they want to make and that leads to a lot of chaos in the kitchen. I did tell them what I liked, but they might not listen,” Trey said.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I say, mostly to be reassuring. I’m not sure at all. But come on, Trey can’t possibly be the only person here with any knowledge of baking, right?

We sit in silence for a few moments. Cater scrolls through Magicam. Grim grumbles about food. “I have a present for you,” I say. “Uh, I wasn’t sure if I should give it to you after the part or something, but there’s nothing going on now, so…”

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Trey says, though he’s smiling. I pass him the package. It’s wrapped haphazardly in notebook paper. He has the grace to not mention it. “Is it a book?”

“Yeah, it is.” Admittedly, I’m not confident in my gift. It was easier for Ace’s birthday- I just begged Trey for some extra ingredients as thanks for my help with the OB incident and made Ace cookies. But Trey clearly wouldn’t be impressed by a baked good he could make himself, and it wouldn’t be a surprise if I asked him for stuff. So, I just fudged the food budget for a week, stole some extra stuff from the cafeteria to get by, and bought him a book.

He unwraps it. “Huh. The Science of Good Eats?”

“It’s supposed to be a book about the scientific aspects of cooking and baking,” I explain. “Riddle mentioned you were in science club, so I thought it might be a good fit.”

Trey laughs. “Thanks, Gray. I appreciate it.”

“Sure, it was the least I could do.” He flips through a few pages before setting it aside as Riddle returns with Ace, who’s uncollared, which is a good sign.

“Everything is in order,” Riddle says. Then his eye catches the book on the table. “What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s Gray’s gift for me,” Trey says. He offers the book to Riddle, who thumbs through a few pages, with mild interest.

“You got him a book? Lame,” Ace says, leaning over Riddle to look.

“There’s nothing wrong with a book as a present,” Riddle says. “Most of what I got as birthday gifts growing up were books.”

“That sucks,” Ace says emphatically as he throws himself into a seat. “What was the rest of it, clothes?”

Riddle bristles in anger. “Yes.”

“Dude. If my parents had given me books and clothes every birthday for my whole life, I’d have gone nuts,” Ace said.

Riddle folds his arms over his chest. “Then what did you receive as gifts?”

“Cool stuff,” Ace says. “My brother got me a couple decks of cards one year and taught me how to do all kinds of tricks with them. Last year, my parents got me tickets to a concert.”

“What’d they get you this year?” I ask.

“Usual stuff. My dad sent me some more sleight-of-hand stuff- I think it’s part of his old tricks that he doesn’t use anymore. He said he wanted me to try and figure it out on my own, and then when I go home for break, we’ll see if I can perform it for him.”

“I suppose sleight-of-hand is an interesting pastime,” Riddle says, albeit a bit reluctantly. “You’d probably do better relying on your studies, though.”

“Aw, come on. I bet there’s something you want for your birthday besides books and clothes,” Ace prods. Riddle falls silent for a few moments, face slightly scrunched.

“I do also enjoy strawberry tarts,” he finally says. He shifts about, a little awkward, then turns to Cater. “What do you usually receive from your family as gifts?”

“What, you’re asking about Cay-cay?” He waves his hand like he’s trying to brush us off. “Eh, my sisters were always trying to get me into cute things and sweets when I was younger, so most of what they got me was ridiculously frilly, you know? They’ve gotten a little better, but IDK. I’m not holding my breath for this year.”

It’s a bit of a non-answer, in my opinion, but nobody interrogates this because Ace leans back in his seat, earning another glare from Riddle, and calls, “Hey, Deuce! What kind of things do you get for your birthday?"

Deuce, who was apparently just walking over, hurries up. “Um. Well, my mom was working a lot growing up, so she didn’t always have a lot of time for birthdays, but she’d always make sure to get me a cake we’d share together and something small.” He smiles. “One year she got me a little music player. I’d been asking about it all year, but she needed to save up for ages to get it.”

Riddle smiles. “Your mother sounds like a lovely woman.”

Deuce nods. “Yeah, she’s great.” He turns to me. “What about you, Gray?”

I freeze. “Me?”

“Did they have birthdays in your world?” Ace asks.

“They did. Do. Um. I dunno. Books, usually.” Riddle nods in approval. “They were fiction books, though. Not nonfiction.”

“I rarely read fiction books,” Riddle says. “Though I suppose all reading is valuable.”

Trey adjusts his glasses as he looks at me. “When is your birthday, Gray?”

All gazes turn to me instantly. “Hey, yeah, you never mentioned,” Ace says. “Think Crowley’s gonna give you the birthday boy suit as well?”

“I don’t think he knows my birthday,” I say. Riddle’s brows immediately dip into a frown.

“All students are supposed to have their birthdays registered on their enrollment paperwork.”

“Grim and I did the enrollment paperwork together. We filled it out with mostly his information, since he’s actually from this world,” I say. “Did you put in your birthday, Grim?”

He shrugs. “I don’t got a birthday. But if it’s a day where you get cake and presents, then I gotta get in on it!”

“Aw. We’ll pick a date for your birthday, okay, Grim?” I tell him.

“Maybe he could share yours,” Ace suggests. “Which is when?”

I snort. “I don’t think Grim would like that, considering my birthday was last month.”

Everybody’s heads turn in near perfect sync to stare at me. It’s eerie. “Last month?” Ace says. “When?”

“Only a few days before your birthday,” I say.

“You didn’t say anything,” Deuce says. He’s looking at me with something almost like betrayal in his eyes.

“Well, no. We were just coming off the whole Riddle thing, and it didn’t seem like a good time, and then Ace was talking about his birthday and I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to draw attention away from him, so I just… didn’t say.” It sounds a little lame when I put it like that, but I’m not sure why everyone’s staring at me.

Riddle practically slams his hands down on the table in something close to a panic. “We were having unbirthday parties! They didn’t fall on your birthday, did they?!”

There’s a flush creeping onto his face and Trey actually puts a hand on his arm. “No, no, it wasn’t!” It’s true, but I would say it even if it wasn’t. I don’t know if Riddle would bother beheading someone who can’t use magic, but I’m not finding out. Also, I don’t want to freak him out if he’s accidentally broken a rule. “The unbirthday party was before my birthday.”

Riddle relaxes visibly. “That’s good, then.” He pauses for a moment, then clears his throat. “And I… apologize if my actions… took away from your ability to celebrate your birthday.” He hangs his head a little.

“It wasn’t really that,” I say. Okay, it was a little that, but I can’t tell him that. He already looks miserable. “Just coming here gave me a lot to think about and I was still adjusting, so I think it slipped my mind, and I’m not even sure if it counts anyway.”

Cater gestures absently with his phone, “Why would it not count?”

“Well, when I left my world, it was mid-January and I got here in early September, so it hasn’t actually been a year since my last birthday.”

There’s a noticeable ripple of surprise that passes through the group. “I suppose time inconsistency between worlds is to be expected,” Riddle says. “Though it must have been rather disorienting for you.”

“Eh, it wasn’t so bad. Just had to get used to the dates,” I say. “Not more stressful than anything else I’ve had to adjust to.”

“So how old are you?” Deuce asks.

“I’ve been saying I’m seventeen,” I say. “That’s how old I was when I left, and I’m not sure my birthday counts, since it wasn’t a year since my last one, so I just kept the age. I don’t think it matters, though.”

“You’re older than me,” Deuce says, looking surprised.

“What, did you think she was younger just ‘cause she’s so small?” Ace snickers.

“Hey, shut up, I’m not that small,” I protest. Ace snorts. Riddle’s eyes start narrowing dangerously (he’s barely taller than me when he’s not in his housewarden heels) and Ace jumps to another line of teasing.

“I mean, c’mon, Deucey, she’s practically ancient! Seventeen when the rest of us freshmen are only sixteen! Like she’s been held back!”

“You’re only calling me ancient because you’re the baby of the group now,” I huff. Deuce starts snorting with laughter and Ace goes pink.

“I am not!” he says hotly. “I bet Grim’s younger!”

“How old are you, Grim?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Dunno.”

“Seriously?” Ace says. “No idea?”

“Nah. Never kept track.” A smirk crosses his face. “Which means I could be older than all of you!”

“No way,” Ace says.

“Ha ha ha!” Grim cackles. He skitters onto the table, dodging my attempt to corral him. “Show some respect to your upperclassman!”

“Grim!” Riddle snaps. He immediately scampers back to me, glaring over my shoulder while still in a position to dodge any collaring that might head his way. “Keep off the table!”

Cater leans closer to me. “Hey, there’s nothing saying we can’t throw you a belated birthday party.”

Trey nods. “That’s a good idea. What kind of things did they do for birthdays in your world?”

“Pretty much the same, I think,” I say. “Cake. Presents. Parties. All that stuff.”

“Hey, if you’re getting cake and presents, I should get some too!” Grim protests.

“It’s true, it’s only fair,” I say. “Oh, but we shouldn’t be discussing this right now. It’s Trey’s birthday. We should be paying attention to him.”

Trey rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Ha, uh. You don’t have to.”

Too late- Riddle is already drawing himself up into ‘queen enforcer’ mode. “Yes, the preparations should all be completed by now. And if anyone is tardy, then it’s off with their-” Trey and Ace frown and Riddle hastily changes tune. “It’s a… stern lecture.” Trey looks approving. Riddle relaxes. Ace just rolls his eyes. I wonder which he would hate worse: being collared or forced to endure a lecture.

“Yeah, once all the tables are set up, we need to have a photoshoot with the birthday boy.” Cater spins to me and winks. “You’ve got your ghost camera, right, Gray? I can give you some pointers for getting some great shots!”

“Yeah, I do.” I’m surprised Carter noticed it. I’ve been using it to get shots of the guys in their fancy suits they wear for their birthdays (I am not calling them birthday suits- apparently that phrase doesn’t mean the same thing here, but I’m still not doing it). “I’d like the pointers. Thanks.”

“Sure thing! Upperclassmen have to look out for their helpless little freshies,” Cater says. “And hey, maybe if the photos come out well enough, I can post a couple on Magicam! Retro stuff like this is totes in right now.”

Ah. There’s the catch. “I’ll think about it.”

“Aww! C’mon, I’ll even tag you in it! You could become Magicam famous!”

“I don’t have a Magicam, Cater.”

“We have to get you a phone,” he huffs as he all but hauls me off, catching Trey in his tow. “Come on, we should get a photo in front of the cake. It’s a perfect background.”

“Cater,” Trey protests weakly, which does nothing to actually deter Cater. Riddle follows us, calling out reminders about time and punctuality. Deuce, Ace, and Grim all end up huddled together. I watch them in between photos, but they appear to be in some sort of deep discussion, which doesn’t bode well. Never a good sign when they put all their one and a half brain cells together.

Fortunately, whatever their planning doesn’t go off at the party, because everything continues smoothly. Trey seems to have a good time. Riddle doesn’t behead anyone, though there’s an issue with the silverware during cleanup that makes him go red in the face. Cater solves everything, though, and Riddle doesn’t have a total freakout. I feel a little awkward throughout, honestly. There are a few other students from other dorms as well, so it’s not just Heartslabyul and me, but they all seem to vaguely know each other. I feel a little… left out, maybe, being there. And also a little nervous that I’ll mess up a rule and Riddle will lose it. Ace and Deuce keep creeping off to whisper together, catching Cater at one point and Trey at another. I consider going after them, just to see what they’re doing, but stopping Grim from devouring the party is a full time job.

I walk back to my dorm, cradling a food-comatose Grim in my arms, and thinking about birthdays.

Three weeks later, I’m called out of my dorm by Deuce, who insists on me accompanying him to the school store. It’s a bit unusual for him- he’s usually more than happy to get things done by himself. But I go with him regardless. Grim comes along too, probably to try to convince me to buy him as much tuna as we can carry back to the dorm. The shopping trip is uneventful. Deuce checks his phone frequently, which I initially assume is because he’s looking at a list, but he never seem to buy anything. He picks up a few items, then puts them back. Even Sam, who usually has some patience with browsers, sweeps by three whole times to ask if he needs help with anything, and each time, Deuce jumps, looks guilty, and shakes his head.

I’m about ready to ask if he’s trying to buy something illegal (wouldn’t put it past Sam to have it- the man has everything) when he checks his phone again and his face sags with relief. “I’m done,” he announces. “We should get back to your dorm.”

“Wh- you didn’t buy anything,” I point out.

“Yeah! At least buy something for me!” Grim agrees, fur sticking out in little spikes. Deuce blinks at him, and, before I can tell him he doesn’t have to, picks out a couple cans of tuna and slides them over to Sam.

“You don’t need to buy things for Grim just because he asks,” I tell Deuce as we walk back along the path to Ramshackle. “He’ll just get greedier.” I don’t need to worry about Grim overhearing me, because he cracked open one of the cans as soon as Deuce handed them over and is more interested in stuffing his face than anything else. Including staying on the path. I have to nudge him away from pitfalls a couple of times.

“I know,” Deuce says. “I just thought he deserved something nice too.”

“Too?” I repeat blankly, and Deuce blanches. This man should never play poker. He doesn’t have the face for it. “Is there something going on?”

Fortunately for him and his terrible poker face, Ramshackle comes into view at that moment and Deuce starts jogging toward it. I pick up my pace and follow him. He’s on the track team, so of course by the time we reach there, I’m practically gasping for air and he’s not at all winded. Grim has to stop eating tuna to run, something he is clearly unhappy about.

“What’s the big idea?” he grouses. Deuce ignores him and heads toward the door. It’s not locked or anything (I don’t think the door actually does lock) but he’s usually polite enough to wait for me to open it. I hurry up, still panting, as Deuce opens the door and steps inside.

I follow him into the foyer and take about two steps into the dorm when the lights flash on and several people pop out from behind various pieces of furniture. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

“Myahh!” Grim jumps and scrambles behind me, barely keeping a grip on his tuna. “What’s going on?”

“I think,” I say, a bit dazed, as Deuce trots over to Ace, who’s emerging from behind my couch, “it’s a surprise party.”

“Indeed,” Riddle says, dusting off his housewarden uniform. He was huddled behind a chair and is now standing next to it. “Though I think it would have been just fine if we didn’t crouch behind furniture for it.”

“It’s not a surprise party if you don’t hide!” Ace smirks. Riddle has an ‘I don’t think that’s true but I don’t know enough to disprove it’ look on his face.

“I got a great snap of your face,” Cater says, popping out from behind a curtain. He shows me his phone for a couple seconds before snatching it back to type. “#Suprisedparty, #faceofshock, #Ramshacklepartynight.”

“Cater, please don’t post that,” I plead.

“It was Ace and Deuce’s idea,” Trey says. “They thought you might like a party. Ace was pretty enthusiastic about it.”

“Yeah, well, I like having an excuse to party,” Ace says. He drapes an arm around my shoulders and starts tugging me toward a dessert table. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”

“Don’t forget about me!” Grim yelps and hurries after us. Even Riddle breaks into a small smile and joins us with the desserts.

It’s not the sort of birthday party I’m used to. It’s in a different place, and with completely different people. But it’s unexpected. And it’s… nice, actually. Really, really nice.

Find the next chapter here.

[h4nj1sunggg]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐆 — ( h. jisung. )

pairing: bf!Han Jisung x reader

genre: drabble fluff

summary: you call your boyfriend 'bug'.

ᯓᡣ𐭩　  ( masterlist )  .

"Hey, Bug."

The studio was dimly lit, the only glow coming from Jisung’s monitor and the warm LED strip running along the desk. He was hunched over his laptop, fingers tapping rhythmically against the keyboard, eyes flitting between the screen and the small notepad beside him.

You stood in the doorway, watching him with a fond smile. His hair was messy, a telltale sign that he had been tugging at it in frustration. His hoodie had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the smooth curve of his collarbone. He was lost in his world, completely unaware of your presence.

Shaking your head with amusement, you stepped closer, careful not to startle him. “You’ve been here for hours, Ji,” you murmured, voice soft as a whisper in the quiet room.

Jisung jumped slightly, eyes wide as he spun in his chair to face you. “Ah— baby, you scared me,” he said, hand over his chest as he exhaled dramatically.

You chuckled, stepping forward to rest a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry,” you said, “but you should take a break.”

He pouted, lips pressing into a familiar, stubborn line. “I just need to finish this part—”

“Hey, bug,” you interrupted, voice light as a feather, laced with affection.

Jisung froze. His breath hitched.

You blinked, tilting your head. “What’s wrong?”

His ears turned pink. “What—what did you just call me?”

You hesitated, confused by his sudden reaction. “…Bug?”

A flustered laugh bubbled out of him, and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. “That— um. That was unexpected,” he mumbled, voice an octave higher than usual.

You grinned. “Why? Do you not like it?”

He cleared his throat, still avoiding your gaze. “No, it’s just—” He exhaled, finally looking up at you. His eyes were warm, a little shy, but filled with something soft, something sweet. “It’s cute,” he admitted. “You’re cute.”

Your heart did a little flip.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Well, you are my little bug,” you teased, booping his nose gently.

Jisung groaned, burying his face in his hands, but you could see the way his smile peeked through. “I’m never gonna recover from this.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him in a loose hug. “Take a break, and maybe I’ll call you that again.”

He huffed dramatically, but his hands found their way around your waist, holding you close. “Okay, okay,” he relented, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “But only if you keep calling me that.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “Deal, bug.”

Jisung melted.

And just like that, his music could wait a little longer.

Jisung didn’t let go.

Even though he had agreed to take a break, even though his laptop was still open behind him, even though he had no reason to cling to you like this—he didn’t let go.

You had called him bug, and now his heart was in absolute chaos.

Your fingers moved lazily through his hair, nails grazing his scalp in the softest way possible, and Jisung was sure he was about to combust. He wasn’t usually this weak to pet names—sure, he liked the occasional Ji or Sungie, and when you were being playful, a teasing Hamster never failed to make him whine.

But bug?

It was gentle. Sweet. It felt like something delicate, something that curled around his heart and squeezed in the softest, warmest way.

His arms tightened around your waist before he could stop himself.

“baby,” he mumbled into your shoulder, voice muffled by your hoodie.

You hummed. “What’s up?”

Jisung hesitated. How was he supposed to put this into words? That his heart was a mess, that you made him a mess, that the way you said his name—hey, bug—made him feel like the luckiest idiot alive?

He pulled back just enough to see your face. Your glasses were slightly askew from the way he had smushed himself against you, and your eyes blinked at him, curious and patient.

His chest ached in the best way.

“I—” He swallowed, licking his lips. “I really like you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, a soft laugh escaping you. “I’d hope so. We’ve been dating for—”

“No, like—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I mean, I really, really like you.”

Your lips parted, surprise flashing across your face.

Jisung groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Ugh, I don’t know how to say it. It’s just—” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his hands flailing as he tried to make you understand. “I think I just had a moment? Like, a realization moment? Where I looked at you and thought, oh. I’m doomed.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you bit your lip, trying (and failing) to fight off a smile. “You’re doomed?”

Jisung sighed dramatically. “Hopelessly. Eternally. Irrevocably.”

You laughed, and Jisung swore he could feel it, the way it warmed the air around him. “And this realization happened… because I called you bug?”

His ears burned. “Maybe.”

You grinned, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. “So if I say it again, will you have another moment?”

Jisung narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you dare—”

“Hey, bug.”

Jisung collapsed.

Not literally, but his head dropped straight into your shoulder again, and a whine escaped his throat before he could stop it. “Nooo, I can’t handle this,” he mumbled, voice slightly strangled.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around him again. “I didn’t know my little bug was so soft.”

[thenextlordthorpe]

“Your mother would,” he says so simply as if the question she asked were daft and not in need of an answer. “If she believes it then she’ll convince my father.” Even though he had only been back for one day and night, his Lady stepmother made it clear how she wanted to be a positive force for him, and he could tell the tension between mother and daughter right away. “Have you not listened to me this entire time? I want word to travel fast. I hope Lady Whistledown is in this party, that she hears our argument and writes with as much vitriol for my, our, family if it means I can leave. If people forget my name here, I will celebrate it,” he says narrowing his eyes without anger but more confusion at how anyone could think he wanted anything that came from being a Lord. Maybe if things had been different, if he wasn’t stolen away back, he would have a different view but that was not the world he returned to. “I’ve been without a penny to my name, it is of no concern to me. I’ve made do before and I will again. There are people who wont be able to handle that kind of change and you wouldn’t even last a week without money or security of your status.” None of her insults landed, they seemed to taunt to try and take something away, but he didn’t want it or he’d lived the consequences already and loved it.

Seeing her hold onto her stomach made him snicker and shake his head. “See?” he says gesturing to her hands. “I can already say how you are protective of this fictional child you’re growing. You make it too easy for me.” There’s not a sigh but some exasperation to it.

“Did you see them when I walked into your event? They’re fawning over me. Society is so drab and distracted by pretty nothings like your decorations and pleasantries that they won’t notice you.” There’s pity in his voice. No anger anymore but he thinks that could cut just as deep. Even as she attacked him, he held her back and looked at her with a disappointment. “Careful, you will overexert yourself and could harm your Welsh-English child.” Now he snickers. “I’ve feared many things in this life, but a hysterical brat does not come close to the tamest of fears. You look a state. How dishevelled you look now and feral.” By comparison he looked composed and could easily smooth out anything she made a mark on, if there were anything. With ease, he grabs her arms and moves her to a vacant seat in the room before stepping back. 

You will never be loved; how little she knew. That very thing was the reason he was forced back but he didn’t correct her. Instead, he laughed it off.

“If you insist then I will.” So calmly spoken it was almost eerie. “But first I’ll return to your lovely guests. If I linger in the room any longer with you, I wouldn’t want people thinking I’m responsible for your spoiling or future bastards.” The very thought repulsed him.

Opening the door, he ushered in her staff and quickly changed to a look of brotherly concern. “Please, my dear sister is overcome with emotion at such a night. I think she has overestimated how much work this would take out of her. Maybe some warm milk to ease her into her chamber to rest. I’ll inform her mother so she can check on her but please be careful, Juliet is not in any condition for any more exertion.” And because he was the heir, the servants obeyed him and began fussing over her as he requested. “Jane?” he says seeking out her most loyal maid. “This event means a lot to Juliet, and I would hate for her guests to see her in such a state, please ensure she is discreetly taken upstairs.” From the door he watched with a smug smirk on his face. “Rest well, dear sister,” he says before returning to the soiree and is immediately flocked on by all members of society eager to see the returned heir.  Throughout the night he was every bit as charming as he could be with everyone complimenting and expressing their happiness he had returned. A few popular mamas even commented how fortunate the family were to have his return on his sister’s event.

Taints. Ruins. Spoiled goods. The mere insults that rolled off of her stepbrother's tongue were constant and horrifying - each blow felt like a wound in her side, carefully, calculating, and her stepbrother knew exactly how to press her most beloved buttons. Each insult took the wind out of Juliet's chest, and truly - the ease and formation of each insult, each remark made Juliet feel more and more exposed, enraged and truly broken. Here she was, at her own event and it had erupted into such with the arrival of her stepbrother. It broke her heart, and then set it on fire the more he went on about her beloved Oliver, both of their characters - and each word out of his mouth felt like poison ready to aim and ruin her entirely.

"And who will believe that nonsense? From your tongue? Everyone knows what a disgrace you are to the name of Thorpe - your own father knows it. Do you not think word travels fast? Women may be more at a loss, but you certainly have more to lose. You think if your father does away with your title that you will go on peacefully? No. You will be without a single penny to your name, and sent away, someone where no one will hear your bloody name ever again. Who ever was Tobias Thorpe?" Juliet taunted, her tongue full of spikes - ready to aim just as he was. There was privacy now - she could spew out whatever she truly wanted, fingernails to scratch at the very fabric of his being. Surely Juliet Thorpe had met her match in her stepbrother - and there was no going back.

Unless you want to take her place but even then, I doubt he’d touch spoiled goods. His words made her take a step back - a horrific accusation, a horrifying thing to say and Juliet held onto her stomach, the lurching of it, the sickening of it entirely making her feel ill. She looked away for a moment, catching her breath from the horrors of it all, before turning back with teary, anger filled eyes.

You're welcome. The arrogance, the profound smugness in him - it was enough to make Juliet surely snap. Her rage took on a new life as she moved to him, quickly, and with every force of her own will, she scratched, hit and attacked him - wholeheartedly. "And what words of these, of a gentleman? Surely, the entirety of this event will know who you truly are, because I will tell them! A pompous, arrogant, deceitful monster who will only end in ruin! I will make sure of it, do you understand me?! You monster - you bloody monster!" She screamed, hoping to land one horrific blow to him, to make him feel what she had felt. Red was all she could see, her vision blurred.

"I will beat you myself if I must - how could anyone stomach you? How could anyone grow to marry or be with you? Your charm is all you dearly have, but if you pull it back - ha! You will never be loved - you will rot from the inside out and who will love you then? Surely not even a father, nor a mother could! Beast that you are!" She could not stop herself, even if she dearly wanted to - and surely if her mother had seen her now, Juliet would be thrown into her chambers and punished, but she could breathe under the rage she felt.

"A coward is all you are!" She tried to land another blow. "Taking out your power on a good, kind and generous man like Mister Heywood and you try and pretend to be anything worthy? He has more worthiness in his small finger than you do in your entire being! You bloody animal! How does that feel? The butler of your home - who you perceive so lowly is in love, truly in love - and you have no one at all! You will be alone- for the rest of your days! No one could ever time more than a lowly night of sin with you! Go on now, brother - try and shut me up now - try!"

[eaudecrow]

I am making DCA pins >:)

@oobbbear as promised, these are dedicated to you for the inspiration and advice!