#me being proud of these for once: TOO LATE

[serapharua]

୨୧ 一 &TEAM WITH AN IDOL S/O . . !

&team ot9 — GENRE : imagines headcanon fluff — PAIRING : gn.reader — WARNING : none — REQUESTED : yes. ☆ — &t masterlist

note : i apologize if it’s a tad bit repetitive.

K :

K understood the demands of being an idol better than most. The packed schedules, the pressure to always perform at your best, the scrutiny from the public—it was all something he had experienced firsthand. That’s why, as your boyfriend, he became your biggest supporter while also being the one who made sure you took care of yourself.

He wasn’t the type to shower you with loud praise, but his support was constant and unwavering. Whenever you had a big performance, he’d send you a message beforehand:

You’ve practiced hard. You’re going to do great. Just have fun out there.

And afterward, whether it was a huge award show or just a regular music broadcast, you’d always find another message waiting for you.

Proud of you. Get some rest.

If your schedules overlapped, K was discreet but attentive. He wouldn’t make things obvious, but his gaze would always linger on you during events, checking if you were doing okay. If he saw you looking exhausted, he’d subtly pass you a water bottle or make sure you had space to breathe.

When you were overwhelmed, K didn’t push you to talk about it right away. Instead, he’d pull you into a quiet moment, away from the cameras, the lights, and the expectations. “You don’t have to smile right now,” he’d murmur, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Just be here with me.”

On the rare occasions when you had a break together, K made it a point to keep things simple. No grand gestures, just the kind of peace you both rarely got in your busy lives. A quiet walk, late-night talks with soft music in the background, or just lying on the couch together, no words needed.

“I don’t need to do anything fancy,” he’d say when you apologized for not having much free time together. “I just want to be with you.”

Of course, K had a playful side too. If you ever acted cool and charismatic on stage, he’d tease you about it later. “So that’s how you talk to your fans?” he’d smirk. “Should I start calling you by your stage name too?”

But at the end of the day, he was the one who truly saw you—the version of yourself beyond the spotlight, beyond the idol persona. And no matter how far your career took you, K would always be the steady presence reminding you that, to him, you were just you. And that was more than enough.

FUMA :

Fuma was the perfect mix of supportive and teasing when it came to dating an idol. He admired your talent and dedication, but he never let you take yourself too seriously. While fans saw the confident and charismatic version of you on stage, he was the one who got to see the real you—the one who complained about tight schedules, struggled with choreography, or sent him ridiculous voice notes at 3 a.m.

He was always keeping up with your activities, even if he acted casual about it. He’d be sitting next to you, scrolling on his phone, and suddenly go, “Oh, so you had an interview today? You forgot to mention you called yourself bad at cooking again.”

“You watched that?” you’d ask, grinning.

“I have to keep tabs on you. What if you say something embarrassing?” he teased, ruffling your hair.

But beneath all the joking, Fuma was your biggest supporter. If you had a major performance, he’d watch it no matter where he was. You’d often wake up to texts like:

10/10 performance, as expected. I think I’m your biggest fan.

He’d even stream your songs casually, pretending it was no big deal. But the real kicker? He knew your choreographies. You caught him once, absentmindedly doing part of your chorus while waiting for coffee, and when you called him out, he just smirked. “It’s catchy, okay? You make it look so easy, I wanted to try.”

Whenever you were exhausted from practice or frustrated over small mistakes, Fuma was the first to remind you to be kind to yourself. “You don’t have to be perfect all the time,” he’d say, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “You’re already amazing.”

On your rare days off together, he made it a rule to keep things completely stress-free. No work talk, no schedules—just you two doing normal things like binging a show or grabbing food at a quiet place where no one would bother you.

“Bet your fans don’t know you look this cute in sweatpants,” he’d tease as you curled up on the couch.

“Shut up,” you’d laugh, throwing a pillow at him.

At the end of the day, Fuma never let the industry change the way he saw you. No matter how famous you got, to him, you were still the same person—the one he adored, supported, and would always stand by, both on and off the stage.

NICHOLAS :

Nicholas knew what it was like to train, to perform, to constantly be under pressure—so dating you, an idol, was something he naturally understood. He never pried when you were exhausted from schedules, never pushed you to talk when you needed space. Instead, he was just there—a steady, grounding presence in the chaos of the industry.

He never missed a comeback, even if he acted like it wasn’t a big deal. “Oh, your new song dropped? Guess I’ll check it out,” he’d say, scrolling on his phone. But the moment you turned your back, he was watching the MV again, analyzing every detail, silently feeling proud.

He had a habit of catching onto small things before you even said them. If your shoulders slumped after practice, he’d pass you a drink without a word. If you let out a frustrated sigh, he’d casually ask, “Want to rant or do you need a distraction?”

And speaking of distractions—Nicholas was the king of them. If he sensed you overthinking, he’d do something ridiculous just to make you laugh. Like attempting to mimic your choreography with exaggerated movements or suddenly rapping the fanchant to your song in the most monotone voice possible.

“Nicho, stop,” you’d whine, half laughing as he dramatically flailed his arms.

“What? I’m showing my support,” he’d say, smugly continuing.

He never failed to remind you how talented you were, even when you doubted yourself. “You’re you,” he’d say simply, as if that was all that needed to be said. And to him, it really was—because no matter how much pressure the industry threw at you, Nicholas always saw you as more than just an idol. You were his person.

And when you were with him, you weren’t just an idol. You were just you.

EJ :

Dating as idols wasn’t easy, but EJ made it feel effortless. He understood your struggles because he lived them too—early mornings, endless rehearsals, the pressure of always being “on.” But with him, there was always a sense of quiet comfort, like you weren’t going through it alone.

He wasn’t the type to be overly affectionate in public, but behind the scenes, he made sure you knew he cared. If you were exhausted after a long day of schedules, he’d offer you his hoodie without a word. If you had a comeback, he’d casually bring up your song during a live, subtly hyping you up without making it obvious.

“We’ve been listening to a lot of good music lately,” he’d say, glancing at the camera before adding, “Right, guys?” The members would snicker, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Whenever your groups overlapped at music shows, EJ always found a way to check in on you. Whether it was slipping you an extra bottle of water or shooting you a quick thumbs-up before your performance, his presence was a grounding force amidst all the chaos.

Rehearsals were another story. If you practiced in the same building, he’d peek into your studio between breaks, watching you with a small, fond smile. “You work too hard,” he’d say, leaning against the doorframe. “Take a break before I have to drag you out.”

Despite his own busy schedule, he never forgot the little things. If he knew you had an important event coming up, he’d text you before bed:

Don’t overthink it. You’re going to do great.

Also, if you’re nervous, imagine maki doing your choreography. That should help.

Dating EJ meant knowing you had someone who truly understood. Someone who didn’t just admire the idol version of you but loved the person behind it all—the one who got excited over late-night snacks, grumbled about dance practices, and sometimes needed a quiet hand to hold.

And in return, you were always there for him too. Because no matter how hectic things got, you were each other’s safe place.

YUMA :

Yuma was used to living in the spotlight, but dating another idol? That was something he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t the fame or the attention that fazed him—it was the little things, like how difficult it was to find time for each other between packed schedules and constant travel. But somehow, he made it work.

He was always the first to watch your new performances, analyzing every detail like a devoted fan. If you had a comeback, he’d be the one refreshing the charts, texting you updates as if you weren’t already aware.

Yuma: You’re trending. Again.

You: Is that your way of congratulating me?

Yuma: It’s my way of saying you’re killing it, obviously.

Despite his teasing, he was your biggest supporter. He’d secretly learn parts of your choreography just so he could dance along when your songs played. The members caught him more than once practicing your chorus in the mirror, though he’d deny it every time.

“You’ve been humming their song all day,” Fuma pointed out once.

“So?” Yuma said, acting nonchalant. “It’s catchy.”

If your groups promoted at the same time, he’d find every excuse to see you—even if it was just for a few minutes in the hallway. He’d stand beside you during group photos, subtly reaching for your hand when no cameras were looking.

And when the stress of idol life got overwhelming, he always knew how to bring you back down to earth. He’d invite you over to just be, no expectations, no performances—just you and him, wrapped in a blanket, eating snacks while he let you rant about your day.

“You don’t always have to be perfect, you know,” he’d remind you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I love you as you are, not just as the idol everyone sees.”

JO :

Jo might not always be the loudest in the room, but his support for you was as unwavering as it gets. As someone who is soft-spoken and gentle, he expressed his affection through quiet but meaningful gestures. You could always count on him to give you space to shine, but he would never hesitate to step in when you needed him.

When you were preparing for your performances, Jo was your calm in the chaos. Instead of rushing in with words of advice, he’d focus on making sure you were comfortable. If you were feeling stressed, he’d offer a gentle touch on your shoulder or a reassuring smile that made everything feel a little bit easier.

You look amazing. Don’t stress. I know you’ll do great.

He had an uncanny ability to read the mood, knowing when to keep his distance and when to step in. On days you felt overwhelmed, Jo would be your silent strength—standing by your side without demanding attention, just offering his presence, which you always found so soothing. He was great at reading the room too, often noticing when you needed to decompress or just needed a break from everything.

One thing Jo was great at was giving you a sense of normalcy amid the idol world. When you two were alone, he’d pull you into simple activities like watching a random drama, enjoying each other’s company in peace, and even cooking meals together when he could. The moments where you didn’t have to worry about being an idol, and you could just be yourself with him, meant the most.

His gestures of affection were sweet and small. He’d always find little ways to show you he was thinking about you, like leaving a post-it note on your mirror with something sweet or bringing you your favorite snacks without being asked. And when you were about to leave for a schedule, he would always take a moment to give you a soft hug or a gentle kiss on the cheek, making sure you knew how much he cherished you.

Jo might not have been the flashiest boyfriend, but his love was steady and constant. He had a knack for making you feel like you were the most important thing in his world, even on the busiest of days.

HARUA :

Dating Harua felt like having your own personal safe space amid the chaos of the idol industry. He wasn’t flashy about his support, but you always knew he was there—quietly cheering you on, paying attention to every little detail, and making sure you never felt alone in your journey.

Whenever you had a comeback, he’d be the first to watch your performance, his eyes glued to the screen as he took in every move, every expression. He wasn’t the type to bombard you with messages, but he’d send something sweet after every stage.

Harua: You looked amazing today

You: You say that everyday

Harua: Because it’s always true

If your groups promoted at the same time, he’d steal glances at you from across the room during music show rehearsals, his gaze soft but filled with pride. And if you passed by each other in the hallways, he’d give you the smallest, most subtle wave—nothing that would attract attention, but enough to let you know he saw you.

Whenever you were stressed, Harua had a way of making everything feel lighter. He’d invite you over for a quiet night in, playing soft music while you both just relaxed in each other’s company. No pressure, no expectations—just him letting you breathe.

“You don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time,” he’d remind you, his voice gentle as he laced his fingers with yours. “It’s okay to just be you.”

And when you were apart for long stretches, he’d send you little reminders of his presence—random photos of things that reminded him of you, or a simple “Take care of yourself, okay?” message that somehow always arrived when you needed it most.

With Harua, love wasn’t loud or overwhelming. It was steady, constant—like a quiet melody that played in the background of your busiest days, reminding you that no matter how hectic life got, you always had him waiting for you.

TAKI :

Taki was the kind of boyfriend who always made sure you knew how much he cared. Being in the entertainment industry himself, he fully understood the pressures that came with being an idol, so he was there to support you in every way possible.

When you were feeling the weight of the constant schedules and public scrutiny, Taki was your constant source of positivity and light. His approach was always energetic but never overwhelming—he knew just when to cheer you up with his playful attitude and when to give you space to breathe. Whether you were worried about a performance or something that happened backstage, Taki had a way of distracting you just enough to calm your nerves.

You got this! I believe in you 100%! And if you don’t, I’ll just have to steal all the spotlight next time!

There was something about his energy that made it impossible for you to stay upset for long. Even on days when you felt insecure or exhausted, his goofy sense of humor and constant smile would get you back on track. He wasn’t shy about showing you affection in public either. Whether it was holding your hand during press events or sneaking you little looks of admiration when he thought no one was paying attention, Taki was always proud to be seen with you.

But what made Taki especially special was how well he could balance being a doting partner and still respecting your boundaries. He was always there when you needed a hug or a few quiet words of encouragement, but he never pushed you too hard. He understood that as idols, both of you needed space to decompress, and he respected that more than anything.

In moments when it was just the two of you, Taki was a sucker for cuddles. He would pull you close after a long day of rehearsals or events, just to relax in your company. His way of showing love wasn’t always through grand gestures, but in the quiet moments—those little touches, his presence when you needed it, and the way he’d always make sure you were okay.

Taki made sure you knew that your relationship was a safe space—a place where you didn’t have to be perfect or constantly performing. He loved you for who you were, and he wanted you to feel loved and appreciated without all the pressure of being in the spotlight.

MAKI :

Maki’s world was filled with excitement and challenges, but when it came to you, nothing seemed to matter more. As an idol, he understood how difficult it could be to juggle fame with personal life. But he also knew how important it was to support you, and that’s exactly what he did, with a calm and genuine attitude that never wavered.

Maki was attentive, but not in an overbearing way. He had a knack for knowing when you needed space and when you needed comfort. He’d casually ask how your day went, but not with the usual small talk—he genuinely cared and was always there to listen to the struggles that came with the pressures of being in the public eye.

It’s okay to have days where you don’t feel 100%. I’m here for all of it.

There was something grounding about his presence. You could tell he wasn’t just saying things to make you feel better; he understood the emotional rollercoaster that was being an idol. Whether it was tough practice schedules or media expectations, Maki would always remind you to keep a balance between work and taking care of yourself. His gentle, supportive nature gave you reassurance even on the busiest, most stressful days.

When you both found moments to spend together, Maki was all about simplicity. He loved taking you to quiet places where the both of you could relax and forget about the world for a little while. He wasn’t into flashy dates or anything extravagant. For him, a quiet dinner in a cozy restaurant or spending time at home while watching movies was enough.

the world can wait. Right now, I just want to be with you.

One of Maki’s best qualities was his ability to respect your independence. Even as an idol, he never tried to control or push you into doing things you weren’t comfortable with. But when you did need him, he was there in a heartbeat—whether it was offering a shoulder to lean on or giving you an encouraging word before an important performance. He always seemed to know just how to calm your nerves.

What made Maki unique was the way he made even the most mundane moments feel special. Whether it was sharing a quiet morning together, walking hand in hand through the city, or just sitting in comfortable silence, his quiet affection made you feel like the most important person in the room. It was a subtle but deep connection, and you knew you could always count on him to be your steady support.

You’re my peace, you know? I never want you to feel like you’re alone in this.

With Maki, you didn’t have to worry about being judged or having to constantly be “on.” You could just be yourself—an idol, yes, but also a person who deserved love and care beyond the spotlight. And that’s exactly what he gave you every day.

Word count : 3361 | serapharua, 2025.

[cvrnelians]

nightmare pt. II

dark!Frank Castle x reader: Months of confinement begin to make you question who your captor really is, and who he is to you.

warnings: kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, 18+ only.

PART ONE

He says he would never hurt you.

Somewhere deep down, though, you can sense that Frank understands. He is not stupid, nor does he live in a state of delusion. He is a confrontational person, you can tell, and he readily confronts reality. He knows how much you hate him. It hurts him, but you can tell he was fully prepared for it. He is kind and patient with you because he knows you don’t deserve this. He knows you deserve to be happy, to be free. He knows he is hurting you, in spite of what he says. He also knows he doesn’t have to cause you physical harm in order to leave a mark.

You used to think you were good at reading people. It was a gift of yours, your own little superpower. You were skilled at assessing for intention, at predicting what someone’s next move might be. 

Frank, however, is an exceptionally difficult person to read. 

Concentration can get confusing when you’re afraid. It’s anxiety inducing, it’s debilitating, it’s tiring. But mostly, being around Frank feels unbearable. Whenever he is around, it’s like your mind has forged a new path, nestled securely in a state of purgatory. Both hypervigilant and distracted, frantic yet focused. 

You don’t understand this. You don’t understand him. You don’t understand why you’re here, or what he wants from you. You become so frustrated you could cry, and sometimes you do.

You don’t understand.

Your nerves send your mind spiraling in one hundred different directions, playing out scenarios of what he’s going to do, what he’s going to say, how this is going to end. It’s too hard to focus on any single one. It’s too hard to narrow down what the most likely scenario is. It’s too hard to predict the unpredictable.

The silence between the two of you—even the little silences, the moments where you’re waiting for him to respond to something you’ve said or done—is like pulling teeth. It’s frustrating and complicated, but it’s also relatively simple. 

Whenever he is around, you feel like you’re going to collapse. 

And so you have. You’ve fainted twice now in his presence. Once when you first arrived, when you first found yourself in the dark of the basement. Once more when he came home—“home,” the word makes you feel ill—covered in blood and cuts and bruises. You knew full well why he allowed you to see him like that. It was a warning. An “I’m not hurting you, but I could.” A big, shining example of “look at what I’m capable of.” As if you didn’t already know.

He explained things differently.

“I want to know every part of you, even the parts you’re not proud of,” he had said. “It’s only fair that you know me, too.”

You’re perched up on a pedestal in his mind, and you can’t help but wonder when all will come crashing down. But then again, he’s seen you at your worst, at your most human. He’s seen you scream and cry and beg and barter. He’s seen you get violent—or attempt to, anyway. It wasn’t difficult for him to protect himself from your hits and blows, but he has never hurt you. Not once. 

Not anywhere anyone could see. 

Not like anyone else had seen much of you lately. In fact, no one had seen you for quite some time now, no one but him. You weren’t sure if it was out of sympathy or malice; knowing Frank, he probably thought it was the former. He saw it as doing you a kindness. He let you keep track of time. 

Six months. 

Six whole months, you had been here.

He says that he never does to people that which isn’t deserved. You are still not sure what he means by that, but the injuries he comes home with give you some ideas. 

You know he’s been through something terrible. He has to have been. People don’t become this twisted without having endured some sort of traumatic event. You just don’t know what. You know he’s deathly afraid of losing those he loves. You know you are included in that category, for whatever reason. 

It’s weird in retrospect. To you, Frank was just another guy at the bar. He was one of your regulars, stopping by for a drink or two every few nights for the past two years. You had just barely gotten to know him by the time he made the decision to alter the course of your life entirely. 

He had kept to himself. He gave off the impression that he didn’t want to be bothered, and yet, he made it clear that he liked you. He was a good tipper. He made you feel safe and protected when patrons would get rowdy, when they would get rude with you. He even fixed up your car once when it broke down in the parking lot. 

“I take care of you,” he said. “You see that, don't you?"

He wears his guilt like a blanket. It’s not hard to see. Shame dictates everything he does, from the careful way he speaks to you to the gentle way he holds you at night. He is soft with you, affectionate. When you’re in the quiet of your home—“home”—all of his hard edges are stripped away. It makes you feel a little special. You wonder who else has seen this side of him.

He says he would never hurt you, and he’s remained true to his word. 

Concentration can get confusing when you’re afraid. It becomes difficult to sustain. You can start to go into shock, a state in which you forget why you are where you are and why. When you’re being told one thing and experiencing another, you naturally begin to question your reality. Your days are filled with “I love you’s” alongside escape attempts, your nights filled with moments of comfort in the arms of someone you despise. 

You dread Frank’s presence, and yet, you jump at every little noise when he’s not around. And sometimes, when you’re in that warm, heady space between sleep and consciousness, you are simply there—just you and the man that loves you.

You are alive. You are awake. You are afraid. You are loved. You are confined, trapped, terrified. You are a lot of things.

“I want to know every part of you,” he had said.

You’re not even sure you know every part of you.

Not now. 

Not anymore.

[currentlyprocrastinating]

https://at.tumblr.com/currentlyprocrastinating/roryn-furret-yall-my-sally-face-oc-3-i/bvk2kjjaz4tb

guess what? it did, in fact, "translate to more drawing" :]

bouta flood with roryn stuffs

[seventh-district]

“Why’s he call you Darlin’?”

on my knees begging my brain to stop trying to associate this song with Sam

[peridots-pixiwolf]

mildly, just ever so slightly, belated art fight attacks of the season!! feat. @skyistheground @smangethe @hrokkall @onlineviolence aaand @sophisticated-apple :]

[mars-ipan]

this is gonna sound incredibly virtue signal-y i fear but i have been feeling. so fiercely protective of all the transfems i've ever met lately

[todayisafridaynight]

Wanna put your friend in a lil terrarium just to see what wacky things she does stg 😂

i actually Cannot Stress the migraine she gives me every time we hang out. like without fail she'll always say or do something that ranges from mildly questionable or irritating but relatively Whatever to How Have You Survived This Long Without Burning Your House Down Boiling An Egg

[inbabylontheywept]

i did wrestling in middle school. on one hand, i was actually quite good at it, which was nice. being good at any sport was a new achievement for me. on the other hand, i was bi, and i was trying very hard not to notice that i was bi, and getting folded into knots by very kind, very muscular dorks made that task somewhat difficult.

adding fire to the problem was that my parents and my grandparents wanted to watch my matches, because they were very proud that their Gangly Nerd Son was actually Sporting, and they wanted to cheer me on. which would've been sweet and all, but if there are four people you do not want there during a key part of your Burgeoning Sexual Awakening, it is your mom and your dad and your grandma and your grandpa.

right? i mean, imagine some guy's got your head in his armpit, and you're going you know, old sweat smells bad, but fresh sweat has a sort of and then you make eye contact with your grandpa in the stands and you remember you're swearing spandex so if you pop a boner people aren't just going to be able to see the outline, they're going to be able to count the veins, and the only way you will be able to restore your family's honor after that would be by moving to siberia and renouncing joy, forever. that, or lift your entire body up by your kneck then twist 180 degrees without paralyzing yourself.

it’s a lot of pressure, is what i’m saying.

still it did motivate me to win my matches really fast. because i was so tall and skinny, i was stupidly good at the double leg takedown, and then once someone was knocked down, i'd just do the half nelson and kind of flip em over for the pin. then the ref would count to three and i’d win. EZPZ.

i had one match where that went great. won in the first ten seconds, sat back down, and prepared myself for a good hour or two of doing fuck all. didn't even feel bad the parents/grandparents were gonna be bored. the matches went up from me in 5 pound increments (i was in the 115 lbs division) and it was going great until we got to the 145 lbs division. the other school's wrestler stepped onto the mat, and she turned out to be a girl so our guy flipped, because for straight guys, wrestling a girl is not a pleasant experience.

i'm not entirely unsympathetic. my experience wrestling dudes was definitely a little traumatic. but also, i dealt. guy could've dealt too. instead, he refused to wrestle, and the coach went - fine. not even worth fighting over.

so he went to the 140 pounder, and that guy said, nosir, my mom said mormons can't wrestle girls. next guy down, 135 pounder, now he knew he could pull the same card and thus did. 130 pounder, 125, both tapped out. he got to the 120 guy, and that guy was catholic, but he said he was considering being mormon, and thus would have to pass. as a precaution.

coach blew up a little at that. he said "is there anyone - anyone - on this entire goddamn team that is willing to wrestle a girl?" and then he pointed at me and said "YOU. MAT. GO."

and i'll be real, if i'd been paying more attention, i'd have pulled the mormon card too, but i'd just been putting all that audio into a buffer file because i was reading, so i was halfway across the mat before i even processed what had been said and by then it was too late to turn back.

still i had a plan. and my plan - my beautiful, perfect plan - was to do what i'd always done. tackle, flip, pin, win. sit down. read. bore my family to death. move on.

i got the first part right. she was bigger than me, but she wasn't taller. just an incredibly stout woman. god built me like a snake with glasses, just as he built her like a combat cube. the problem was the half nelson. soon as she was down, i tried hooking my arm under hers from behind and for both genders, the defense for this move is just clamping your arms really fucking tight against your sides. if you're a guy, that's whatever, but if you're a girl - especially if you're god's chosen combat cube - that pins your opponents hand right against your boob.

so, i got the hook in, she clamped, my whole arm pressed against something soft, my coach was yelling THE HALF NELSON. BABYLON! JUST FINISH IT! FINISH THE HALF NELSON! and i was just trying to press hard enough to finish, when then my brain went

...oh.

and i flipped out. of course i flipped out. i like girls, and touching a boob is an elemental experience, and i was not ready. i was not prepared. i had not committed the sacred rites. i recoiled like i'd just brushed my arm against the surface of the sun, stood up, and backed away. nobody in the room knew why i'd given up. all they saw was me, right about to win, suddenly flailing around and scrambling. so everyone started screaming at me to just get the half nelson again, and i couldn't really yell back there's a fuckin' boob in the way and it was very distressing, and the only way i could think of to make them stop was just doing it over again the right way.

so i did.

i hunkered down and prepared myself for Wrasslin' Attempt #2: The Sequel.

i knocked her down again, EZPZ. i went for the half nelson again, but she knew what i was about to do so she super clamped, and i knew she was gonna super clamp, so i wound my arm back like a pop-eye cartoon punch before swinging my arm through the gap between her bicep and her side, but the amount of time i spent winding back super signalled what i was about to to do, which gave her time to clamp even harder, which somehow redirected the entire force of the popeye punch to the bottom of her bra.

it spat out a single boob the same way an action hero might spit out one single tooth after getting a solid crack across the jaw. as if to say:

*ptooie.* "that all you got?"

i did not actually see this. my experience was that first there was an arm, then there was a bit of boob, but i was braced, i was ready, forward at all costs, tatakae motherfuckers, and then the boob went away, and i didn't know where it went but my team, and the audience, and everyone who was in front of me, they all gasped like i just kicked them in the stomach. except for my coach. he was behind me, and thus one of the four people in the room who did not see the boob. now my mom, my dad, my grandma, and my grandpa, they all got flashed but nooooooo, coach thunderbutt was behind me, and he didn't see shit so he was still yelling NOOOOOO BABYLON WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST FINISH THE NELSON! GO FOR THE KILL! BABYLON! BABYLON!

but i did not go for the kill. i stood up and she stuffed her boob back real fast, and we just kind of circled each other awkwardly until time ran out and i won on points. that's not technically allowed, but the ref had some mercy on me.

my coach did not.

i barely had time to sit down before he strode over to the bench to chew me out.

"babylon," he said, in that very calm way people get when they're too pissed to yell. "why didn't you pin?"

and i didn't know how to say well coach, i tried, but there was a boob, and it kept getting in the way, and my mom was watching, and so was my dad, and so was his dad, and his mom, and god (like bible god) and that's a can of worms because i'm pretty sure he was already mad at me, and i'm wearing spandex, and i think i might have to move to siberia, so instead i said

"i uh. i forgot how to do the half nelson."

which is actually impossible. forgetting how to do the half nelson is like forgetting how to swallow your spit.

and he looked at me, like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked through him like i'd just survived my 250th day in a trench at verdun, and he said: fine.

fine.

but we're all going to practice it for an hour tomorrow because you forgot.

and then he left.

and my buddies had the gall to be salty about it. i got so many comments saying "dude, why didn't you just tell him the truth?" and i said "you can if you care so damn much. you could've wrestled the girl too. maybe someone else should do the hard thing today."

but they didn't. so the next day, we did an hour of half nelson drills, and i spent a decent amount of time getting thrown around the mat, and it was pleasant in exactly the way that i hated and the year after that, to the surprise of everyone but myself, i quit wrestling and joined the trivia team.

and if you want more reasons to love my mom, my grandpa joked after the match that i might have to talk to my bishop about it, and my mom told him he would be allowed to make jokes after he stood in front of a crowd of 110 people in spandex underpants while wrestling a woman that was not his wife.

he paused for almost five seconds after that. then he said: aw. hell. sorry babylon.

and i'd have preferred my apology from god, but getting it from him was pretty good too.

[bunnis-monsters]

OK SO- I fou d you from your werebunny post which-

BTW

Was really good?? I- it made me feel things- If possible, more werebunny crumbs please? It could go either sfw or nsfw, I don't mind! (Or both but its up to you!)

NSFW

It’s always fun watching his cotton tail wag with excitement when you’re near. He has the cutest pink nose, soft bunny ears and a fluffy tail that goes crazy with every kiss and touch.

Momo, your pretty bunny, really enjoyed having you near. His heart would explode with joy every time you kissed him, his bunny ears flicking as his nose twitched.

“Mmph… love~”

He couldn’t stand being apart from you, living in separate homes just wasn’t an option. He set up a nest in your room within weeks of your first meeting, unable to be away from you for more than a few minutes.

Lately, he had been extra clingy, and very possessive, which was uncharacteristic for him. Usually he was pretty submissive and sweet, almost like a lap pet that wanted all of your attention… but now he was more like a guard dog, constantly on alert, his body always subtly in front of yours.

It was only when you woke up to him humping your leg, his face buried in your neck that you realized what was going on.

He was in some kind of heat or rut… whatever it was, it was making him cling to you, desperate to mate and keep you safe.

All he wanted was to be close to you. The first stage of his rut had him making a cozy little nest in your bed, then spending all his his time snuggling you, his cute fluffy tail wagging furiously as he pulled you in for more kisses and nibbles.

The next stage… you weren’t ready for. You had sec with Momo before, but this was his rut. He was insatiable, fucking into your cunt fast and hard, unlike to gentle, sweet love making you usually experienced.

And his stamina was way too high, one breeding session lasting nearly 5 hours. Every time he came, he bit down on your shoulder or neck, his hips fitting against you as he begged for your forgiveness.

“Sorry, so sorry… just need it so bad, angel! Need to… g-give you my litter!”

After each session, he ignored his own exhaustion and pampered you, purring and bathing you, letting your head rest on his chest as his cotton tail wagged. Momo felt terrible, breeding you for so long… but he just couldn’t help it! His rut made him so horny, and he could only focus on filling you with cum and impregnating you!

But he adored you so, making sure you were treated like a princess once your baby bump began to show. Momo was so proud, not able to keep his hands off of your belly.

“My princess… gonna be a good mommy, the best…”

[criminalamnesia]

GOD I LOVE traitor and how strong you've made the reader. It's amazing! And I eagerly await any future parts, whether it's big proper story or drabbles. BUT, you come first and your life does so you do what you gotta and go be amazing! We can wait. Proud of you X

im so late to responding, but thank you! <3

here’s part six :) also not really proofread so I apologize for any errors! I’ll fix them later!

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the floor, cross-legged amongst broken glass, brittle flowers, and discarded clothes, when someone knocks on the door.

you don’t move, don’t say anything. the noise seems distant— too far off to be real.

besides, if someone is really knocking on your door, they know you’re in here.

and if they know you’re in here, it could be one of five people. your former squad mates, or the doctor.

the knock sounds again. it shakes you from your stupor, yet you still make no move to answer it. let them come in; let them see what they’ve made of you. of who you were. of who you could’ve been.

the person on the other side of the door is speaking now. you register the muffled baritone as it fights to be heard from the hall.

you clench your fists, then unclench them— stretching out your fingers as far as they go. clench them again. unclench. stretch. repeat.

it’s a tick— a calming habit. you don’t think it’s working at the present moment.

the doorknob turns. you still don’t move.

the door is being pushed in, light from the hallway aggressively slicing through the darkness you’d left yourself in. you fought the urge to curl in on yourself.

you’d been so consumed by your anger— are consumed by it— but coming into this room and seeing that damn note was earth-shaking. it was terrifying, and it was a tangible reminder of the team’s unapologetic tactics. simon’s unapologetic tactics.

the voice is speaking once more, clearer now that the door is out of the way— but you can’t make out the words over the ringing in your ears.

a hand gingerly lands on your shoulder, and that’s when you snap.

you whirl around, throwing yourself into the intruder like a cobra striking its prey. clearly caught off guard, the person lets loose a ‘oomph’ and falls backwards as you take out their legs.

everything is fuzzy. the ringing in your ears crescendos, and it brings pain with it. you’re striking your target with reckless abandon, still not registering who is flailing underneath you.

punches land and land and land. nails scrape and scratch and draw blood. all you see is red— all you hear is the sharpening of a knife or the whirring of a saw.

and then there are hands on you, yanking you away from your victim. the red slowly starts to recede, the ringing in your ears subsiding.

it’s only then do you release you’re screaming.

its only then do you see the swollen and bloodied face of your doctor, lying a foot away from you. she sputters a cough, blood leaving her lips and splattering onto the man leaning over her.

“you need to calm down,” a voice speaks into your ear.

“calm down, or they’ll sedate you,” it says, and you finally stop screaming. you take a breath.

clench your fists. unclench. stretch. repeat.

it takes you another minute to calm down enough to realize the person holding you is simon.

the doctor is being carried away now, and you notice it’s johnny and kyle carrying her. you notice john is standing to your left, eyes full of sympathy and guilt as he looks at you.

“get,” you huff, reaching down to slap at the arms circling your middle. “off me.”

simon releases you instantly. you don’t hesitate to put distance between the two of you. a few feet, at least. he just stands there, eyes watching with an expression you can’t place.

“what happened, love?” john’s voice is a soft rumble as he speaks. he moves a hand toward you, but decides against touching you— even if he only wanted to comfort you.

“I—” you start, glancing down at your hands. they’re bloody again.

“I thought it was—” you try again, but stop yourself.

you thought it was what? thought it was who?

you had heard man’s voice speaking to you. your mind had twisted things— had given you something you wanted to hear, deep down— because it gave you the chance to strike.

it gave you the opportunity to tear apart whichever man from the 141 had been there to check on you.

and you know you had wished it was simon.

john takes a cautious step forward at your silence. “let’s get you somewhere private, yeah? somewhere to cool down.”

the fire licking at your veins has subsided in favor of the chill of shame. of terror at what you’ve done— what you’ve done to the one person you had on your side. the person who was truly on your side.

you don’t fight this time. you give a nod, then solemnly follow him down the corridor. simon falls in behind you.

john takes you to his office, opening the door and ushering you inside. you move without protest, stepping into the dark room.

the two men enter behind you, john flicking on the light while simon pulls the door shut. you would’ve laughed at the scenario if you were in your right mind.

but you weren’t.

you weren’t okay. you knew that you weren’t, at least physically, but what you just did…

there was no way you were going to be transferred now. you doubted you would’ve even before you attacked the doctor.

you’re going to be discharged. you understand why.

but it hurts. this is your job, your life. years and years on the battlefield don’t prepare you for life off of it.

“love?”

john’s voice brings you back to the present. you realize you’ve been standing in the center of the room, unmoving and unblinking.

you feel simon’s hard gaze on your back. you want to cry.

how did things ever get this fucked up?

“im fine.” you say, not bothering to turn around. you didn’t trust yourself to keep it together if you faced them.

“you’re not,” john states, and you roll your eyes.

“im not talking about this with you,” you bite out, circling your arms around yourself. “either of you.”

“you should at least talk to someone, love— this isn’t healthy.”

“please, stop.” you tell him, but john was never good at taking orders. he gave them, not followed them.

“you hated the therapist, and you haven’t spoken to anyone else since… everything.” he continues.

“stop, john,” you try again.

“you need to let it out, love. we’re here—”

you spin around then, fists dropping to your sides. “for the love of god, john, shut the fuck up.”

that stuns him into silence, eyes slightly widened and mouth agape as he looks at you. simon doesn’t move from his position near the door.

“you are the last people i would ever fucking talk to! I don’t even want to be talking to you right now, but you won’t stop trying. trying to talk to me, trying to make it up, trying to wriggle your way back into my good graces.”

you pause, sucking in a breath. “johnny must’ve relayed the message, and that’s why you’ve back off a little— but one wrong fucking move and you’re swooping again! you aren’t my dad, you aren’t my lover, you aren’t my friend, and you’re sure as hell not my fucking captain anymore.”

“so please, john, leave me be. the four of you have done enough.”

the room is silent for a beat, then two. then three. and then simon takes a step forward, removes his balaclava, and looks you square in the face.

he doesn’t open his mouth to speak, so you take the chance to.

“don’t start with me, simon. just don’t.”

“the note,” he says. “you read it.”

you just look at him, a disbelieving scoff leaving your mouth as you give a nod. “yes, I read your fucking note. and I saw the stupid flowers, too, after seeing everything else you wrecked. tell me, how long did you wait after you tied me up to tear it all apart?”

he just watches you. you want to scream.

the note flashes back into your mind.

‘hope you can understand.’

“does it make you feel better, thinking what you did was right?” you ask him.

“I wouldn’t have done it differently.” simon tells you.

you clench your fists. unclench. stretch.

breathe in, breathe out.

“and if the roles were reversed,” you said, watching him. “if you were in my position, would you have expected me to do what you did?”

“yes.” he says, without hesitation.

“you’re unbelievable,” you huff. “is that how little I meant to you? all that time, wasted?”

“that’s not what I said.” he tells you, and you shake your head.

“no, but it’s what you meant.” anger is bubbling up again. you feel overwhelmed; shame and fury battling inside you. the ringing building up in your ears again, emerging from the background.

you can’t do this.

“what i meant is what i said.” he takes another step forward. “you’re just too damn stubborn to listen, always have been.”

“just go, simon.” you tell him. “both of you. go.”

“I wouldn’t change what I did,” he says again. “to protect my team, my family, I would do whatever it takes.”

you bite your tongue. you don’t want to keep arguing with him. he was an unmovable object— there was no way to reason with him.

“im not sorry it happened.” he speaks. “i did what i thought i had to do. what i had to do to make sure my team was safe.”

“and you should understand that, considering this team is all you have, too.”

you don’t respond— and even if you were going to, a knock on the door breaks the tense silence in the room.

johnny pops his head in, his eyes full of concern. “doc’s alrigh’.” he says, his gaze catching yours. “jus’ some bumps and bruises. she’ll be jus’ fine.”

“and she uh— said she’s not pressin’ charges or anythin’. says she still expects to see ya in a few days for your check-up.”

that’s what breaks you.

a tear slips from your eye, falling onto your cheek. another follows, then another, and you’re sobbing as you fall to the floor of price’s office.

the three men are staring, but no one makes any move to comfort you.

probably wise, considering what you did to the last person who tried.

you faintly register the click of the door as it shuts again. you don’t look up— your head in your hands as you cry.

cry about what you’ve done, what you’ve lost. mourn your career and your family and your love for the man who doesn’t regret what he did.

unbeknownst to you, simon is the only one still left in the room. his steps are silent as he approaches you— leaving only a foot of space between your bodies now.

he watches you as he sinks to the ground across from you, his long legs folded over each other, the fingers of his left hand twitching as he finds himself wanting to reach for you.

he still cares for you. his feelings for you were what made him do what he did in the first place.

the love he felt for you, twisting into betrayal and hurt and agony. fueling his actions, his desire to hear you admit your wrongdoings.

passion made people dangerous. passion in love, passion in rage. it was a fine line, and simon had crossed it.

he understood what this meant for you. recalls the conversation he had with price earlier— how laswell was planning for your discharge instead of your transfer.

this was the end of your time with them, and in the military. the hands of the 141, damaging one of their own beyond repair.

he finds himself mourning alongside you, then. mourning what was and what could’ve been.

what should have been.

“im sorry for what we did to you,” he says, but it comes out as a whisper that you don’t hear.

“im sorry.”

thank you all again for your patience! I plan on tying this little series up soon :)

as a reminder, I no longer do taglists. if you want to be notified when I post, follow @troiastitans and turn on notifications. I only reblog my works there.

I hope you all enjoyed :)

[rindreamery]

two hands on me.

you had agreed to keep your relationship with itoshi rin a secret. but after an important win, he decides he doesn't want to keep you a secret any longer. f1!itoshi rin x reader ─ fluff, angst if you squint, w.c. 1.6k+ ─ content: kissing/making out

note. watched that one f1 wag edit of nicole scherzinger and the helmet kiss, and i had to write about this IMMEDIATELY. just with a twist cuz i didn't know how to make a helmet kiss romantic LMAO

it’s late, but the roar of the crowd is lively and deafening around you. it's echoing in your ears.

you stand there in the midst of it, hands clasped together, behind the divider that separates you from the track. but you’re ignoring the noise as you focus on itoshi rin, the man of the hour. there’s tears of overwhelming joy and pride brimming in your eyes, and your heart is racing with excitement from the buzz of watching such a victory.

he’s just finished the race; he’s barely stepping out of his race car before he’s being bombarded by the people around him. you’re not surprised by this. this victory, it’s big. so big. one of the most important in his career, and the entire world is watching him, cheering for him. there’s people who have traveled from all over the world, just to be able to watch him. their phones are pointed at him, immortalizing this moment, and other people are fighting for a sliver of his time.

he deserves every second of this.

you’d been a witness to his hard work; you were there every step of the way. from the long training periods, to the excruciating workout regiment he had to endure to make sure his body was ready for this circuit, and the long hours spent doubting if he could really do it all. you (and him) know better than anyone else that he was meant to win.

you want him to shine. 

but the selfish part of you wants him to know that you’re also watching him, that you’re cheering for him too. that part of you that wants to run onto the track and join him, to hold his face in your hands and tell him how absolutely proud you are. to keep all his attention to yourself, to kiss him until neither of you can breathe. but you stay in your spot— you know you can’t.

all you can do is watch from afar.

your relationship is a secret, after all. a mutual, and carefully hidden truth between the two of you. it was agreed on, after a deep conversation, that it was probably within your best interest to keep it that way. he didn’t want you to get bombarded by his fans. he knew better than anyone else how it felt like to have random people poke their noses into his business, and he didn't want that for you. and you didn’t want to put a damper on his career, knowing that it could ultimately result in the loss of support for him. this is for the best, so you stay hidden.

(but, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t suck to not be able to publicly support him the way he deserves.)

it’s a given that you’re not expecting him to look your way— not here, not now. not when he’s basking in the glory of his victory in a crowd of thousands. his crew was crowding him, equally as thrilled as the audience, and paparazzis were swarming around with flashing cameras all asking for his attention.

right now, you weren’t itoshi rin’s girlfriend. you were just another fan in the crowd, standing there, heart filled with pride and joy.

you’re just about ready to leave, uninterested in going onto the track to watch the podium celebrations, ready to escape the crowd and go back to your shared home. you’ve set your mind on the fact that you’re content on congratulating him when he gets back, surprising him with his favorite meal.

but you don’t get far before the crowd erupts again, and this time, everyone’s pushing past one another to get into your section. you don’t even think about it. you just act on instinct, stepping closer to the barrier once again, curiosity getting the best of you.

and then you see him.

he’s breaking free from the chaos, his eyes scanning the crowd with an urgency you’ve never seen before. and there, in the middle of it all, his eyes land on you. your gazes connect, and your breath gets stuck in your throat. he stumbles for a second, momentarily shoved back by the crowd. and then, the next second— there’s no hesitation in his movements as he pushes past the people, ignoring the gasps of offense.

alarms go off in your head; he’s jogging straight towards you.

he still hasn’t stripped himself of his driving kit, not caring enough about that in that moment. he’s still wearing his helmet, face covered and unreadable, and his hands are still wrapped in his gloves.

but then he’s ripping his gloves off, haphazardly throwing them on the ground behind him as he makes a beeline for you. he’s undoing the clasp of his helmet with clumsy hands, and he doesn’t bother to push it fully off, awkwardly laying on top of his head. once his face is no longer blocked by the tinted plastic, you see that his eyes are staring straight at you. there’s a look of set determination on his face, and you can’t deny the feeling of nervousness that washes over you.

for once, it feels like you don't know what he's thinking of doing.

and then rin’s standing in front of you within seconds, and his breath is ragged and uneven from the jog. but he doesn’t wait to catch his breath. not when all he can think of this one thing: his second win of the night. he doesn’t wait for a word from you— no, he doesn’t have the patience. he doesn’t ask for permission. he’s jumping over the barrier, and his hands are gripping at your hips in a heartbeat, pulling you to him.

"tell me," he’s giving you an out before he does something he can’t take back. “tell me if you don’t want me, this, right now.”

you’re not sure what he means, but you answer anyway. “i want this.”

then everything becomes a blur; it all happens so fast. your mind is still reeling from the shock. from how rin’s acting. and you’re overwhelmed by thoughts of the cameras, now all pointed towards you, and rin standing right in front of you. real, and very much not a hallucination. you’re barely able to register anything before one of his hands is traveling up, pushing at the back of your head to pull you into a kiss.

you freeze, unsure of what to do.

you can't help but make a noise of surprise when you make contact with him. it’s soft at first. his lips are moving with yours in a shallow, but hungry, kiss. as if the words he couldn't say were being poured into it, into you. and then his hand is traveling to the nape of your neck, pressing gently against it, and he’s tilting his head to deepen the kiss.

one of your hands instinctively fly up to cradle his jaw, palm cupping his cheeks, gently. the other hand clings onto the collar of his tracksuit, knuckles turning white from your grip.

his hold on you is firm, grounding you, constantly pulling and clutching at you to keep you close to his body. you can feel the desperation, the way his lips stay locked on yours even as you both run out of breath. even when your mind starts to grow fuzzy, and your brain starts to signal for air. as if, in his mind, you would run away from this.

but you don’t. you would never.

in that moment, the world falls into silence around you. the noise from the crowd fades into the background, and it's just you and him. no cameras, no flashing lights. even the plastic of his helmet, digging into the skin of your head, doesn’t bother you. you know nothing but the feeling of his lips against yours, his two hands on you, and the way his heart is beating in sync with yours.

“rin–” you gasp, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. you're coming to your senses, and your palms are weakly pushing at his chest to pull away from him momentarily. but his hands keep you in place, not wanting to let go. “hold on— i thought we were keeping this a secret? so many people are watching us right now.”

you hate this feeling of being pulled back into the present. the fact that you can feel the overbearing presence of the cameras, and how you can practically feel the stares burning holes into the back of your head. but he’s quick to pull your attention back on him, one hand squeezing at your hip reassuringly, the other tilting your chin to face him. his face softens at your words, almost looking guilty, and his eyes filled with tenderness and vulnerability.

focus on me, you can almost hear him say. it's just me.

you're looking at him expectantly, and he can see the worry in your eyes. this is sudden, he's aware, and he knows you both made an agreement. but rin’s never cared much for the approval of the media— he'd only ever cared about you. it’s his, and your, life and no one else’s business.

he'd made up his mind already. he's willing to fight anyone who insults you, and he doesn't care if he loses the support of some fans. (he knows he'll gain more anyway.) he wants to show everyone who’s been truly supporting him.

his number one fan. the one who's behind all his successes.

rin doesn’t want to hide you any longer— he doesn’t want you to hide any longer. he wants the world to know what’s his.

“i don’t care if they're watching,” he breathes against your lips, forehead resting against yours. your breaths are still shallow, chests heaving against each others, but he’s leaning in again for another. “i want to show off my biggest win.”

and his lips are on yours once again.

© rindreamery, 2024

[waitingonher]

because i love you — [hoo boys headcanons]

summary: your "thing" with the hoo boys!

author's note: in honor of the pjo series coming out today,,have this rlly rlly short draft from earlier this year! xoxo

percy jackson — doodling on him

“give me your hand.”

“yes ma’am.”

minutes pass as you doodle gods know what onto percy’s hand. you always resort to this whenever the camp head counselor's meeting begins late—which seems to be every meeting—and giving percy "tattoos" certainly kills time. last meeting, you drew a can of beans and the time before that, was a bouquet of tulips. so honestly his guess being a pair of socks this time isn’t too far of a reach.

“okay, done,” you release his hand, a proud smile gracing your features, “cute right?”

he quirks a brow upon seeing the drawing, “is that…” percy turns his head to the side, gaining better perspective, “is that a flying fish?” 

“wow, you’re good,” you say, giving him a nod of approval, “although, last time you did say that my can of beans looked like a roll of toilet paper…” 

your boyfriend throws his hands in the air, “in my defense, you used a shitty pen so it was hard to tell.” 

“whatever.” 

jason grace — sewing your initials on his clothes

“hi love,” jason says, plopping down beside you on the couch. you give him a bright smile as he places a gentle kiss on your head, “almost done?” 

nodding proudly, you hold up his pair of jeans to show him your work: your initials sewn onto a corner of his back pocket, “yup, just finished actually! what do you think of the color? i think you bought the thread for me on our second date. but i totally forgot i had it until i went digging in my supply box.” 

a grin plasters itself on jason’s face as he nods his head in realization, “i knew the color seemed familiar. i remember wondering why a tiny spool of thread was so expensive. but it’s perfect, i love it,” he kisses your cheek, “all my friends are gonna be so jealous that they don’t have their girlfriends’ initials sewn onto their clothes.” 

you laugh as you imagine jason vehemently bragging about his jeans to all his friends, “tell them i’m charging $50 if they want me to do theirs,” you wink. 

“we’d make more than the stolls’ and their smuggling business if we did that,” he laughs, admiring your work once more. who knew that having your initials on his pants would have such an affect on him, “also, can you do my sweaters and my other jeans?"

you raise a brow, "i might have to start charging you at this point."

leo valdez — impromptu fashion shows

“wow!” you clap enthusiastically, “your outfit even puts paris fashion week outfits to shame!” yes, because a rainbow checkered crop top with a humongous green tutu and a pink boa paired with insanely skinny stilettos beats any and all high fashion runway outfits, “now, leo valdez, can you give us a few words about your new clothing line? and possibly a bit about what it’s like to be so amazingly talented?” you inquire, raising an invisible microphone to his mouth. 

leo oh-so humbly bows and rises with a proud grin, “thank you, thank you, but i honestly must give all credit towards my beautiful muse, y/n, she’s the inspiration behind my new line. and about being so talented, it really is such hard work to be this naturally gifted.”

“ooh, do tell about this ‘y/n.’ i’ve never heard of her but she does sound absolutely gorgeous!” you exclaim, keeping up with the act. 

your boyfriend nods firmly, “oh yes, she’s very, very, very beautiful,” adding a playful wink, “but i must say, she has the worst morning breath i’ve ever encountered!” 

your smile drops and you squint your eyes, “i’m going to choke you with that stupid ugly boa if you don’t take that back right now.” 

“uh ma’am,” leo backs up nervously, clutching his boa, “i’m going to have to call security if you threaten me again.” 

"i'm seriously going to kill you."

[hiraethwrote]

contents : f!reader, containts spoilers, character death, mom!reader (has a son), dealing with loss, angst/slight comfort?, bittersweet, no use of y/n wc 1k an : idk what this is, but i just really love satoru and feel sentimental about him... i am not very happy with it but it's something

“mama, i don’t remember this!”

when you turn to look up, you’re staring directly at a photo you have not seen in a long time. once it sinks in just what picture it is you’re looking at, a soft smile grows on your face before meeting your son’s gaze.

no wonder he was confused, because the slightly crinkled picture he had managed to find wasn’t of him, despite the kid being nearly identical to himself. had it not been for the fact that you knew it wasn’t your son who was staring back at you on the piece of paper, it would have fooled you too.

“‘s because it’s not you, sweetheart,” you smile. “come here,” he doesn’t hesitate to scatter over with tiny steps, before you gently lift him into your lap, resting your head on his shoulder as you look at the picture together.

you had nearly forgotten the picture even existed, hid away with other tokens of your late love.

it was a rather simple picture, one from when satoru was just a child, long before you had the privilege of loving him. standing straight and proud, a young satoru was smiling at you, a toothless grin stretching so far across his face that his eyes were squeezed shut.

“it’s your daddy,” you sigh as your son leans back against you. “i think he’s a little older here than you are know.”

“he looks just like me!” excitement carrying his words.

and he did. same tufts of white hair that were always sticking in every direction. same warm smile that greeted everyone he encountered. same kind eyes that never lied.

“do you miss him?”

you turn to look at him, meeting familiar blue eyes you used to get lost in for hours on end. “every day,” you say simply, a sad smile painting your lips.

never letting your eyes leave your son’s face, you notice how his eyebrows narrow slightly and he turns his attention back to the photo. “i wish i met him.”

“me too, baby.” it came out quiet as a whisper, leaning forward to press a soft peck at his temple. “but he’s not gone gone.”

“what do you mean not gone gone?”

“well,” taking a deep breath, sensing how your eyes slowly started to turn glossy with tears. “he lives on in me, in my memory,” you say softly. “and in you,” grabbing his soft cheeks and rubbing your nose against his, causing a delightful little giggle to fill the space. “and all around.”

“all around?” he asks, the confused line between his brows deepening.

“i like to think so. for example, on sunny days i am sure he’s in the sunlight that kisses your skin, keeping you warm and safe. and you know when the wind is blowing so loud we hear it in the walls?”

“mhm,” he nods enthusiastically.

“i’m sure that’s your dad talking,” you laugh a little to yourself. “my god, how he used to talk. all the time.”

you keep looking for at the picture, reminding you of a time where you were able to enjoy the privilege of his strong arms around you, protecting you from any potential harm. it always amazed you, that despite everything he was put through, he was still soft and kind — truly one of his many brilliant qualities that he hadn’t let the world that was so cruel to him, tarnish him completely.

“he’s also in the rain,” you say, your voice falling back to a whisper when he turns to look at you again. you capture his eyes, trying to force a smile as his big eyes stare back at you with such curiosity. “you know how you’ve sometimes seen mommy just stand outside when it’s raining?” he nods. “i miss your dad more than anything, and it makes me sad sometimes. so when it rains, i like to go outside and feel the little droplets hit my face. i thinks it’s how he shows me he is still here, comforting me. sharing my pain so i don’t feel it on my own.”

you don’t even notice the shy tear that has rolled down your cheek until he reaches his small hand to gently wipe it away. “i don’t want you to be sad,” his voice is so full of compassion, wondering how such a small person could have such a big heart — he got that from satoru too.

“it’s okay to be sad sometimes,” you assure him. “it just proves that all i felt for your dad was real.”

he doesn’t seem to understand it fully, but you can’t blame him. he’s still just a kid after all. but as time pass, he'll grow up, it will all eventually make sense to him.

“mama?”

“yes, baby?”

“you’ve said before you talk to him.”

“yeah, all the time.”

“you think i can talk to him too?” your lips instantly start to tremble in an unsteady smile.

you nod slowly before pulling him closer, pressing your cheek against his. “of course! i think he would be happy to hear you talking to him.”

“where do you think he is now?” the loaded question comes out so innocently, unable to stop how you huff a breath, trying to find the right words that would give an answer a child could comprehend.

“i don’t know,” you said honestly, “but wherever he is, i hope he’s resting. that’s the least he deserves.”

with his eyes on the picture again, he gently wiggles out of your arms. his kindness steers his hand to dry more of your tears, again causing your lips to curve into a small smile.

“if it’s okay, i think i’m going to go talk to dad.”

“say hi to him from me, okay?” he nods, flashing you a grin similar to the one satoru bore in the picture in your hands. and he runs off into the garden, standing in the exact spot you so often find yourself in.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[sakuravalelp]

The Dance Academy isn't a gang- DC X DP Prompt

Inspired by this prompt

Clockwork suggests to Danny, who's been the king of the infinite realms for 6 years now, that he should take sometime off in a mortal realm. He doesn't feel like going back to his own dimension (you choose the reason), so Clockwork suggest another dimension where he thinks Danny might have fun.

Danny investigates the dimension, and finds it is a dimension where some humans, who are called meta-humans, develop powers, mostly during their childhood. Danny knows how tiring and alienating it is to grow with powers that one have to hide. He wishes to give this kids a safe space to experiment with their powers, but not as a weapon, just as part of themself.

He chooses to create a dance academy, because dancing is something in which you use your body and express yourself. It would be an excellent way to encourage this kids to use their powers while enjoying themself. He decides to open the dance academy in Gotham, were it seems metas may feel more pressure to keep themself hidden. With his ability to see and feel the differences in soul it's easy to identify metas, so he starts scouting kids for the academy.

Of course convincing the kids that it's just a a dance academy that wants to create a save space for metas, instead is of a trafficking ring, is difficult. But once he gets the first couple kids in, slowly more come too.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Bruce is worried about the new possible meta gang that it's forming on Gotham, and sends Duke undercover.

It's hasn't been long since Duke joined the bats, and this is his first official undercover mission. He's excited at the start, feeling proud that he's been trusted with an independent job, but then he finds out that the "gang" it's just a dance academy. He's a little disappointed, thinking that this job is more of a probation thing than anything, since there isn't anything suspicious.

The bats tell him to stay in the dance academy, because maybe the dance thing is just a cover up and they'll reveal their real motives when he's actually accepted in the group. And Duke takes it as them wanting him to have a meta support system. See? He's learning to understand how the bats show love to each other!

Duke finds himself enjoying being in a dance group. It's a lot of fun. Danny it's fantastic, he has a lot of powers and isn't scare to show them. Which makes everyone in the group feel so much safer to use their own.

Danny encourages them to integrate their powers in their dance. It's freeing. Their powers are treated as a normal part of them, and not as this exotic ability that has to be controlled. It's such a safe space that all of them have gotten used to using their powers for day to day stuff when in the dance studio. It all feels so casual because no one bats an eye to it. There's no talk about how they should try to do things "normally," or limit their use of their power.

Danny: "Why would you? That's your normal, and this place is safe for you to just be you."

Duke realizes a bit late that the bats were actually suspicious of the group, and that his placement there wasn't really a probation. He's glad to know he was actually trusted with a job, but, he had really thought that every time they had asked about his day with the group was because they were interested in how he was doing. That they were showing love and interest in him in that evasive ways the bats did, and it kinda suck to know it wasn't the case. It also meant that he had to confront their family in their clear meta-discrimination.

"Would you have been so suspicious if it wasn't a meta group? No. Other than them all being metas there wasn't anything off. No proof of fights, no proof of robberies, no proof of trafficking, nothing.

There's no proof of anything other than a group of teens dancing, and you know that because you checked it out before sending me.

Like, I don't blame you for checking it, I'm not naive, but you were so sure it was a gang, just because they were metas. That's fucked up guys."

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 9: Folklore Creatures

Spin on "Little Red Riding Hood" anyone? What could be better than someone so obsessed with you, they simply want to eat you up?

Prompt: Folklore Creatures | Cautionary Tales // Truth // Naivity Warnings: Yandere, Violence (non-main character murder, Blood Mention, Implied Bullying of the reader (off-screen)), Topic of Jealousy, Posessiveness

"Love you, hun."

Pressing a gentle kiss to your head, your boyfriend got up, stretching his arms high over his head and popping his neck before he got to his feet with a sigh. "Where are you going? Do you really have to leave?" you mumbled, the disappointment unmistakably in your voice. It had been like this for weeks now, where you two spent a passionate night before he slipped out without a trace to find him all day.

"Mhm," he sighed, leaning down to you again to catch your lips once more. "You know how much it pains me, but I got to go before it's too late. Wouldn't want to awaken the monster in me, would you?"

He said it as if it was a challenge, and you giggled, thinking it was just another innuendo. "Wouldn't let me get out of bed, huh?"

"Oh, I'd gobble you up, darling."

Laughing, he stepped away, putting his shirt back on as he dipped into the bathroom of your small apartment real quick. The moment he disappeared from view, you couldn't help your expression from showing the disappointment and frustration you felt. It had been almost a month now, and you two never went out together in the daylight, never saw each other except when he picked you up for a night out in the club or came to watch a movie that was never finished.

It felt more like you were his friend-with-benefits—you didn't even know his last name.

As if you were the other one.

The thought made your blood boil. You weren't proud of it, but in a moment of jealous weakness, you had checked his phone, seeing countless messages where he told people how excited he was to hang out and make appointments with them while he never seemed to do the same for you. It didn't seem like he had another partner in his life, but how could you be sure when he played the role of the mysterious night visitor rather than your wholesome boyfriend?

Was he ashamed of you? Were you not good enough? Did he just keep you around for his entertainment? The questions plagued you as he never gave you a good answer. He wouldn't even entertain the discussions, only vowing that he loved you and his work was very important and took him all day.

So why was he meeting other people then?

There wasn't much time once he said his goodbyes, his kisses nothing short of loving and sweet. For a possible cheater, he was good at what he was doing. You only had a few seconds of self-doubt about what you were going to do before you were out of the door and hunting after him, long coat and sunglasses on in true stalker-fashion. It felt wrong, and you hated yourself for mistrusting him so much, but at the same time, you two were still practically strangers, knowing so little while still being so in love. A little craziness was inevitable, right?

However, as your boyfriend turned from the main street into the shady path leading to the central park of your town, you suddenly felt a sense of panic. What if you accidentally got involved with some shady fellow? What if this was a drug deal or worse? Why would someone need to go to a park in the middle of the night?

You had assumed he was leaving you alone every night to hook up with other people or go back to an unsuspecting partner, but as you gently brushed through the thicket, trying to stay out of the moonlight that would give away your presence, you suddenly weren't so sure anymore.

You could still see him as he walked further into the park. It should have been your sign to leave, get away while you could, and cut all contact... but you had already gotten this far. Following closely by hiding behind trees and the occasional park bench, you tracked him through the greenery. Once, he almost seemed to spot you, but you ducked into a bush just in time, regretting this move only when the thicket tore at the fabric of your coat, making unnecessary noise. Still, you managed to stay hidden, heart racing and always alert.

Eventually, your boyfriend sat on a park bench in front of a pond. Nothing much happened for the next few minutes, and you were about to call this mission off, seeing how relaxed he was. It was as if he simply enjoyed hanging out in the park at night like a semi-normal person would.

But footsteps crunching over the gravel made you cower lower, your eyes fixating on the person approaching. Your boyfriend lifted a hand in greeting, and the person sprinted forward, hood falling off her head, revealing a cruel sight.

Because you knew the woman your boyfriend was meeting.

Your bully.

Heart sinking into your stomach, you watched as she jumped into his arms, giggling as your boyfriend spun her around. The only reason for them to meet you could think of was that the two set you up, made you fall in love with him so they could laugh at you behind your back. It really broke your heart to watch them cuddle on the park bench, your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—ruffling her hair.

You didn't want to stay to see this.

It was a good thing you found out, but with tears filling your eyes, you knew you had to leave before you were discovered or hurt yourself more by watching them. This trainwreck wasn't one you should have been observing, and it hurt enough that you wanted to never come out of your home again.

"You know, [Name]?" your boyfriend suddenly asked, the sound of your name on his tongue so bittersweet.

"Who? Oh..." your bully replied, thinking for a moment. "What about them? They are a loser, not worth your time."

"Is that so? Because they told me about you, lots of things."

"You're ruining the mood. Isn't it enough that I agreed to meet you here? It's so creepy! Did you know how they found quite a few bodies lately around this park? We should go clubbing or to a bar, why are we even here talking about some loser?"

Your bully let out a frustrated sigh, throwing her hair back over her shoulder before leaning close. "You know we never even kissed until now. Don't you think it's such a waste of those lovely lips to talk when we could make out instead?"

Letting out a dry laugh, he didn't seem flattered at all as she tried to avert the topic of you. Good, you thought, because you really weren't up to hearing about yourself from the bully and the traitor. Even so, you couldn't move. As if you were frozen to the spot.

"Good thing you mentioned that. I prefer not making my partner worried about whether I'm cheating or not."

"Partner?" your bully spat, scrunching up her nose, the ugliness of her expression matching her personality. "Don't tell me you're fucking with that. I thought you had better taste when you asked me out to dinner the last few times. Thought you'd appreciate beauty more--"

Her words were cut off as your boyfriend's hand wrapped around your throat. He brought her face closer to his, sounding more enraged than you had ever heard him before. "How dare you talk about them like that. They are perfect. Wonderful. Special. It's filth like you that needs to be taken out so my love can be happy."

The two rose from their seat, and you watched as your boyfriend seemingly effortlessly hoisted your bully into the air. Something felt off, and you couldn't look away as you watched the clothes on his body tearing apart, your bully struggling as his fingers stretched and wrapped around her neck completely. She let out mewls and gasps as she tried to kick him, tried to make him stop, but the horror was in both of your eyes as you watched your boyfriend transform.

Skin turned into fur, mouth into snout. His posture changed as his body grew taller, monstrous, into a beast. Part of you couldn't believe your own eyes as you watched him take on canine features as if you were in a movie, watching a werewolf transform, but by the way, your bully was struggling harder, unable to scream, you realized it was real, and she saw it too.

Horrified, you could only clasp your hands over your mouth, containing your shivers. Doggish years popped up from his head, twisting and turning towards your direction. You had to be quiet, undetected, or surely, you'd be the next prey of that monster. His snout opened, long, sharp teeth glistening in the moonlight, and you heard the gurgled scream of your bully before the beast pounced, biting between her neck and shoulder.

Your bully was still kicking and trying to break loose as blood gushed from the bite, her sounds turning into gurgles before everything quieted out, and she stopped moving. Even though your eyes were so wide open, you couldn't believe them at all, couldn't understand what just happened, only listening to the sound of fluids gushing out and dripping to the floor, bones breaking beneath the claws and massive jaw, and eventually, her body simply slipping from his grip, seemingly meaningless.

"[Name], [Name], [Name]. Isn't it so impolite to eavesdrop on others?" the monster suddenly grumbled. Its massive head swung in your direction, eyes scanning from one side of the thicket to the other before finally settling on you despite the greenery. "I didn't want you to find out like this. We could have talked about it some other time—like on a picnic!"

Putting his feet into motion, you were still completely frozen as you watched the creature march towards you. If this was a bad dream, now would have been a good moment to wake up. You two held the eye contact, even as you watched the grotesque features slowly turn back into a human, first the head, then arms.

"Well, it is your business, too, I'll admit. I've been doing this all of you. Was I not a good boy, taking care of all these mean people for you?"

Until now, you had never taken much notice of the people you disliked disappearing. If anything, you were glad they weren't around anymore. But now that he was pointing it out, a cold shudder ran down your spine, guilt overcoming you.

"They were in the way of your happiness, and I need a good meal every now and then. We both got something out of it, you sweet, sweet thing—look at you cowering. Are you scared? Of the big, bad wolf? What if I'm a nice wolf, will you come to me then? Don't worry, no one's going to hurt you, I'll take care of all that try."

Even with the words so sweetly murmured, you didn't dare move and fall for his promises. He was a fucking werewolf or any other kind of monster! But werewolf made the most sense. It also explained so much more, for example, how he knew exactly where you were. It only made you wonder if he knew all along. Let himself be exposed to you. Wanting for you to see this.

See him.

Now back in his human form, he reached into the bush, parting it aside to reveal your cowering form. His grin widened as he watched you trembling in fear from him, this... other side of him probably enjoying a primal thrill at the prey he had caught.

"What... what are you? You had those big ears-"

"-to hear your thrilling pulse, darling."

"And your eyes were-"

"-so I could spot you and make sure you'd not hurt yourself, sweetheart."

"A-And your mouth was... you know."

At this, he simply grinned, and you gulped down any other word. "Gobble you up," he said earlier that night. It had not just been a sexy innuendo.

"Are you... going to kill me, too?" you asked woefully, feeling like your fate had already been sealed.

"You? Now, now, who'd do such a thing."

Clicking his tongue at you as if you had just insulted him, your boyfriend stepped through the gap in the bush, crossing over into your hideout, destroying every safety this thicket had provided with his presence. He leaned down, picking you up with what you now knew was unnatural strength and holding your bridal style as he carried you back towards the pond. The moonlight shined down on you two, the reflection on the water's surface blinding you. But it wasn't enough to make you forget about the body that laid just below you.

"I'm glad you could make it here, though. I wanted to enjoy the full moon with you for so long, you know? But you did interrupt my meal, how are you going to make up for it?" he asked, not a hint of seriousness in his voice. As if this was all a game rather than the brutal reality you had only just learned about.

"I--" you sputtered, unable to answer that. Your mind kept coming back to realize you were the next best meal to have and served as if on a silver platter as he carried you.

"Juuust joking," your boyfriend laughed. "How about we go home and order some late-night food? I'm so hungry!"

Ignoring the dead body on the floor, he merely stepped over it, chatting about whether he wanted burger or tacos as if he hadn't just revealed himself to be a fairytale monster and killed someone.

"Or, you know, we could make this fun. You could run, and I could catch you, have a nibble of those sweet cheeks; how about it?"

You felt the blood drain from your face, and his grin diminished as he watched you cower into yourself, his grip tightening around as you grew tense. "Okay, too early, got it."

"You're really not going to kill me?"

"Nope. Can't. You're my mate. You're what all werewolves crave—what I crave. Your happiness is all that satisfies me."

"Then... you'll let me go if I want to?"

His expression turned into a frown, and he shook his head. "There are rules," he said factually. "I'll explain them to you someday. But basically, they don't allow us to tell people about our existence. If I let you go, you might tell someone and--"

"I won't! I promise! I'll take your secret to the grave, please!" you pleaded, and your boyfriend grimaced, looking unhappy at your determination.

"And even more importantly-" he continued, raising his voice threatingly to make you behave. "-they teach us to never let our mates go, as there won't be another one. And living without is torture for a werewolf."

"Never?" you whined softly, and the smile returned to his face. Now he looked almost completely back to normal, like the sweet boyfriend you fell in love with. But you couldn't ignore the wolf in a sheep's skin—not with the blood of your bully still clinging to his chest.

"Never," he assured you firmly, and you knew instinctively that he meant it.

[buntanteen]

bestie fwb!mingyu headcanons (nsfw)

summary: kim mingyu and reader's bestie fwb dynamic headcanons :3

contains: 18+ nsfw writing so mdni!! implications that reader is smaller than gyu

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

bestie!minyu who is just a poor puppy not catching a break from anyone 😔 especially from you lmao. you're one of his biggest supporters but also biggest teasers. post-concert, you'll be imitating how he's trying to make carats swoon with his charms (the both of you know how proud you are of him <3 you just love seeing him pouty) 

bestie!mingyu who lets you use his chest as a stress balls. you once said "honk honk" while squeezing them and got your mingyu tiddies card revoked for a week😢

during bestie!mingyu’s night dance practices to finish, he'll come whine to you that "jeonghan hyung is being mean🥺" or complain about whichever member is pulling jokes on him. he should've known better that you’d be riling him right with them 🥰

fwb!mingyu who comes home to bury his face in your chest after a long day. you think he's knocked out...only for him to start licking, nipping and sucking marks onto your skin :3

bestie!mingyu who will always provide you delicious meals😌😌 is constantly cooking you a something when you come over and has deemed you his official taste tester! if you insist to cook alongside him, he'll refuse. he might let you peel the veggies tho <3

when you go out to eat, bestie!mingyu will always insists on picking up the cheque. since you get pouty about him not letting you pay, he lets u buy the dessert at the convenience stores or cute lil cafes as a compromise

bestie!mingyu who always asks you to take pretty boyfriend pics of him for his carats🥹 ofc you oblige, loving to see his fans fawn over new pictures that you so carefully asking him to pose for  

fwb!mingyu who begs to eat you out and hits you his 🥺 puppy eyes so you to let him (you were going to anyways)

bestie!mingyu who comes to you for relaxation or advice when he's stressed out of his mind. he lets you pamper him with gentle touches and soothe away his worries with sweet words. you tuck him into your bed so he rests well to tackle the next day😊

feeling safe enough to initiate touch with bestie!mingyu :) he gives as many piggy backs as you desire as long as you let him bite his fangs into your arm when he's bored 🥰 sits you in his lap in crowded group hangouts. you've insisted that he sit in yours too, but your legs became numb after 5 minutes😭😭

good puppy fwb!mingyu whimpering pleads against your neck or between your legs for you give him permission to cum while he ruts against the bed sheets 🥺

always having sleepovers with bestie!mingyu. atp you could be another roommate to the minwon household for how often you're just vibing at their place when they arrive home

fwb!mingyu who got caught sniffing your underwear post sex when you went to get him water. you end up stroking his hair with his head in your lap, jerking him off with your underwear around his cock...but you leave him blue balled as a punishment <3 "oh! i'm late to work, see you later after your tour?😘”

while he's on tour, fwb!mingyu won't have phone sex with you, but leaves you voice notes of the pretty noises he makes jerking off as payback <3

ames note: hi hi! this is my first time writing wooooo~ this was definitely self indulgent😅 i just wanna be friends with mingyu! he seems like the most fun guy to hang out with...and to get dicked down by lmao. i hope y'all enjoyed it and are doing well!! i tried for something gender neutral but i'm not sure if i achieved it? feel free to kindly give feedback <3 ς(.-‿-)

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.