#nothing else about him changes its just this

[zepskies]

HEADCANON: Man Flu

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader || Beau Arlen x Reader || Soldier Boy/Ben x Reader || Boaz Priestly x Reader

HC: When Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Boaz Priestly get sick, how would they act when you (try to) take care of them?

AN: After reading I Got You by @bettystonewell (Dean x Reader) and The Best Kind of Medicine by @lamentationsofalonelypotato (Soldier Boy x Reader), I realized that I've never actually written a sick-fic before. Here it is in headcanon form, since you guys seem to like these! lol 💜

Also adding Priestly to this lineup for the first time because some of you have been requesting more of him recently. 😉

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship, hurt/comfort, sick-fic, some needy affection-starved men who don't want to admit they're needy, lots of fluff.~

Dean Winchester

He's not sick. Because he doesn't get sick.

Dean claims he has the constitution of a horse, but you still take the beer out of his hand before he can take a sip at 10:00 a.m.

He's too busy interrupting himself, namely by coughing half a lung, wheezing, blinking teary eyes -- the whole phlegmy nine yards.

Sam shakes his head, casting you a look that frankly says, Good luck.

He knows his brother is stubborn as hell, and one of the things Dean dislikes most is being fussed over for "no reason." Being seen as weak. Not being able to just shrug his shoulders and shake it off.

To be fair, Dean tries. Except this time it's accompanied by a body shiver and a reluctant sniffle. His pallid face is drawn, and his usually strong and solid frame looks unsteady as he leans a hand on the War Room table.

"Okay, come on, Rambo. Let's get you back into bed," you say, guiding your boyfriend back to the room you share with him.

"I'm find," he insists, even as he begrudgingly accepts the gentle pressure of your hand on his back and shoulder, pushing him down to the bed.

"Sure you are, baby," you say with a smirk. "You're in the primb of libe."

Dean shoots you a narrowed look. Damn you for forcing him to binge-watch all those episodes of Friends late at night when you both can't sleep.

Right now he's Monica, trying to convince you he's in tip-top shape, while you're Chandler, just trying to get him to use tissues instead of his flannel sleeve to wipe his runny nose.

After taking his boots off, you get him to change out of his jeans and back into his sweatpants. Then you manage to get him to lay down under the covers with the promise of coming back with medicine and soup.

"I don't want soup, damn it," he grumbles. You just roll your eyes and rub his arm.

"Just rest. I'll be back with the Vicks."

As you might expect, Dean is not an easy patient.

He refuses to drink tea, but he does down the pills you bring for him, with a measured toss of his head that still makes his head swim. He groans.

He swallows a couple of cautious spoonfuls of the soup, pausing when he realizes that its warmth actually feels good down his sore and scratchy throat. It tastes pretty good too, especially with the warm, buttered slices of bread on the side.

"You made this?" he asks.

"Mhmm," you nod, smiling. If nothing else, good food will pacify this man. "Chicken and wild rice, made especially for you."

"Hmm. S' good," he nods in reply. He manages to finish the bowl.

He has to admit, if just to himself, that he does feel like shit.

He won't admit that the way you're rubbing his back, the gentle pressure of your nails between his shoulders and down his spine relaxes him, makes him feel better.

He knows that you care about him. That you love him. But this is one of those moments where it hits him, just how much.

It's a little overwhelming. A heavy swell of pressure fills his chest, so he tries not to let himself think about it for very long.

(He fails.)

After he's done eating, you take the plates away and help him back into bed. You linger there, slipping your fingers through his soft brown hair and pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead.

"I really need you to rest, okay," you say quietly. "If you need anything, just text me or Sam. Don't get out of bed."

Dean grasps your hand before you can move away from him. Since you're probably going to wash your hands anyway, he lays a kiss on the back of your hand.

"Thanks, sweetheart."

Beau Arlen

Sheriff Beau Arlen is the type to run himself into the ground because he's so damn into his work.

He wants to do well in his station of responsibility, and he feels like he has to make up for his performance during the summer madness of Buck Barnes and Avery...and everything in between.

You just have to make Beau realize that he needs to slow down, before he well and truly burns himself out.

You put your foot down one morning.

He tries to get out of bed but has to pause, his head swimming. He takes a couple of steadying breaths while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You notice with a frown. "Hey, you okay?"

"Fine. Just fine," he answers a little too breathlessly. He raises a hand to his head. His throat is sticky and coarse. He wrinkles his nose when he also feels a sneeze coming on.

"Just need a...a...mugh-ah-ha-hugh."

His coughing sneeze makes you grimace. You didn't even know someone could sneeze and cough at the same time.

"Aw, babe. You're sick," you say as you move over to him, resting a hand on his back. He shakes his head and groans.

"Nah, can't be sick. Gotta lot of work to do today," he says. His voice is like gravel blended with broken glass. It would actually be sexy, if for the distinctly un-sexy way he tries to clear the great wad of phlegm from his throat.

He tries to rock himself onto his feet, but there he sways on the landing. You hurry out of bed to grab his arm and steady him.

"Oh no, you don't. Back into bed," you say.

"Aw, sweetheart. I'll be fine--"

"No. Lay down. You're not going in today," you say more firmly, all while you tuck the man back into bed with the blankets covering him.

"All right, all right. No need to be so pushy," he can't help but tease.

It earns a small smirk on your face. It seems like his man flu hasn't yet deprived him of his sense of humor.

"I thought you liked that though," you reply. You sit on the edge of the bed and rub his chest. He groans in defeat.

"Can't believe this," he grumbles. "Today of all days--"

"There's always going to be another case. This is your body telling you that you need to slow down," you tell him. "So how about this. I'm gonna call in one of my sick days, and we'll bunker in together."

You stroke his bearded cheek. He quirks a smile, grabbing your hand and squeezing warmly.

"How long until I'm allowed out, warden?" he asks.

"Until you can stand without keeling over," you dryly reply. A smile tugs at your lips. "Remind me to stop by CVS to grab you a Life Alert."

"All right, har har haugh--" His sarcasm ends on a very real, wheezing cough. Your amused smile drops. You relent from your teasing and stroke his chest once more.

"Okay, just rest. Let me get you some actual medicine and I'll be right back."

He stops you by grabbing your wrist. "Hey, uh...can I have some chicken noodle soup later?"

"Of course, baby. I'll swing by the store now and get some stuff for you."

"And some saltines?"

"Saltine crackers on the side. Got it."

You're about to head to the bathroom to brush your teeth before you start getting ready to go to the store, but once again, Beau's needy hand stops you.

"Before you go, some tea with honey and lemon would be good. Just something for my throat," he croaks.

You smile and nod. "Yeah, for sure. That'll be better for you than coffee."

"Oh, and can you gimme that quilt over there?" he asks, pointing to your favorite knitted blanket at the edge of the bed. You graciously lay it over his form and drop a kiss onto his forehead.

"And some cough drops. Thank you, darlin'," Beau adds.

Your lips begin to press together, but you nod and continue getting dressed.

You can already tell this man is going to settle into you taking care of him just fine.

Soldier Boy (Ben)

Neither of you thought it was possible, considering his super genes that allowed him to eat and booze and drug harder than Andre the Giant and Keith Richards put together.

But one day, your over six-foot super soldier goes down hard. The warning signs came the night before, when you could hardly sleep with the way he was snoring like a grizzly bear.

In the morning, he wakes bleary-eyed with a runny nose and a coughing fit hard enough to shake the bed.

"Fuck," he groans, dragging a hand over his face before he turns onto his back. "This's gotta be some kind of bullshit hangover."

You move over to him in bed and feel the intense warmth of his clammy forehead. Your brows draw together in concern.

"No, I think you're sick."

"Not possible," he grumbles. "I haven't been sick since..."

Well, since he was a kid, probably. He won't admit it, but he's surprised he still has that memory lodged in the back of his mind.

It comes to the forefront now: your hand on his cheek unknowingly mimics his mother's gentle touch, her soft, kind voice.

"Aw, my sweet boy. Let's get you feeling better."

He can almost recall the floral scent of her perfume, echoes of it in the shampoo you use.

Ben claims he's fine, that he doesn't need your help or want the medicine and tea you bring for him. (He tries the tea, grimaces, and spits it out when you're not looking.)

He's a sourpatch grumbly patient who only begrudgingly stays put in bed when you ask him to. He doesn't mind lying around and watching movies all day, not to mention episode after episode of Below Deck. It reminds him that he wants to get back into boating.

"Hey, sweetheart," he calls to you from the bedroom, his voice croaking all the while. "I'm getting you a yacht for Valentine's Day. You want it all white, or throw in a bit of gold? Actually, check out this one with the navy trim."

You roll your eyes to yourself when you step back into the room. You're carrying a tray with a large bowl of soup and a fifth of whiskey. He claims the latter will help soothe his throat, and you don't have the heart to argue with him when he's clearly feeling so shitty.

"You mean you're getting you a yacht," you reply wryly. "We live in the city. Where the hell would we put a boat?"

"In a yacht club, where it belongs," Ben retorts. He hooks an arm around your waist and peruses what you've brought him on the tray. He doesn't look all that interested.

"Look, I know you're not exactly a soupy kinda guy, but this'll make you feel better," you say.

"Why can't you put some fucking steak in it or something?" he grouses. He tries and fails to hide another wet cough.

"Why can't you just eat what I lovingly made, just for you," you snipped back.

He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but he pipes down. In that silence, he's conceding that you have a point. There was a time were all he had to do was glance in someone's direction, and there'd be some fucking moron to fulfill his every whim.

Now, you're probably the only one in the world that would actually do what you're doing...

Cooking for him, putting your heart into it, for the simple reason that you do care.

Ben takes the bowl of soup from your hands. Raising a brow, you offer him the spoon as well.

He eats without further complaint.

You smile and reward him with a sweet kiss on his forehead, brushing his hair back as you do so.

"See? That's not so hard, huh?" you can't help but needle him. "It's okay, baby. I'll take care of you."

He eyes you dryly, but he won't admit that there's a different kind of warmth coiling in his chest.

Boaz Priestly

"Uuuughhh, babe," he groans. "I feel like death on toast."

You're standing beside the bed with a smile playing on your lips. You brush back his for once un-gelled hair back from his face. It's weird to see it all limp and lifeless, slightly damp with sweat.

"Unironically, I should make you some toast," you reply. "What kind of medicine do we have?"

Priestly unearths his head from under his pillow to look up at you with miserable red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling, stuffy nose. "Can we count the tequila in the mini bar?"

"Maybe later," you laugh. "How are we on groceries?"

Priestly struggles to think. He takes your hand and rubs it back and forth across his chest. Maybe your sweet, loving touch has the power to clear away his congestion without him needing Vicks. Too minty.

"We have that pastrami I brought back from the shop," he says.

"That's six days old already," you shake your head.

"Aw, that's still good," he argues. "But uh, other than that, I think I have half a cheeseburger left from last night."

Last night's date at TGI Friday's, he means.

You heave a sigh. "Okay, clearly I'm going to the store. You just stay in bed and rest. Drink your tea."

He grimaces like a child. "I don't like tea."

"I know you don't like tea, but you need to drink it. It's good for your throat and your immune system."

He groans and flops back over onto his stomach. You bite your lip against a smile. He's such a whiny baby when he's sick.

Talk about Man Flu.

"Come on, be a good boy for me," you say, smacking him lightly on the ass. "Soon enough you'll feel better."

A smile creeps across his face where it's pressed against his pillow.

"Know what would really make me feel better?" he hedges. He tries to guide you down to him by tugging on your hand, but you resist him.

"Oh, no. You're not gonna get your germs all over me," you say.

"Hey, what happened to in sickness and in health?" he croaks. Even while under the weather, he's still plenty strong enough to grapple with you. He manages to yank you down. Laughing, you stumble into a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Huh, I don't remember exchanging any vows. You see a ring on this finger?" you tease, flashing your bare hand in his face to try and distract him and weasle out of his grip. "I can jump this ship anytime I want."

Priestly pouts. His arm hooks tighter around your waist. "Huh, guess you got me there..."

He turns his head and coughs roughly into his arm. Your amusement fades into concern and sympathy. You lay a hand over his chest while he struggles.

Once again, he clasps his free hand over yours. He glances up a bit hesitantly into your eyes.

"Well, maybe it's time there should be something on this finger," he murmurs.

You blink your eyes wider. Your head tilts, wondering if you just heard him right. Is this delirium fever talking, or is he serious?

"O-Oh yeah?" you ask.

Priestly tries to gauge your reaction. Seeing your face break out into a cute, shy smile raises the corners of his lips. Hope blooms in his chest, right beneath your hand.

"Yeah," he says, trying to clear his cracking throat. "I mean, if you're okay with that. If it's not too soon--"

You slip your fingers over his plush, chapped lips, and your smile brightens.

"When you're feeling better, you can ask me that question properly."

AN: 😆 I hope you liked the first ever addition of Priestly!! It was so fun to try and write him again (it's been a while lol). Feel free to imagine this vignette in the same storyverse as The Miracle Man and Code Red.

But I also hope you enjoyed the "Big 3," as I call them, even though Russell is starting to give Beau a run for his money on one of those slots. 😂 Let me know which guy you had the most fun reading on this one! 💜

And if you want even more fluff before Valentine's Day, check out my friend @waynes-multiverse who just posted her set of V-Day headcanons with Dean, Soldier Boy, Beau, and Russell: Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

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[dragonsinthedarkness]

Absolutely yes to all of that. I think the relationship between Miranda and Thomas is way underrated. We don't know much about it, but definitely /there was/ much. I've thought a lot about their dynamics and regardless of if they were romantic or friendly, it doesn't change the fact that the two of them had shared for years a deep bond which probably had changed both of their lives for the better. I've liked very much the word you used ti define them, twins. I've used it many time myself. I totally agree with this it. To me they were chosen brothers who had been lucky enough to find, in the midst of a society meant to cut off their wings, someone who instead was more than willing to help them take flight, and the importance this can assume in the life of people with such personalities and ideas like theirs is priceless.

I love all the relationships that bind these three characters together and sure, James' pain at losing his greatest love must have been terrible, but to me the love that bound Miranda and Thomas was even deeper, for its span if nothing else, just like the love that eventually bound Miranda and Flint at the time of her death was deeper than the love that had bound Flint to Thomas. So I think Miranda must have suffered even more than him for the loss of Thomas, considering also how it had meant for her the loss of all the life she had known. Not to talk about all the situations she had to endure once in Nassau. I mean, it might be me loving this subject, these three characters and their story, but I believe Miranda's sorrow is something people never really talk enough about.

I mean, the way she talks about Thomas with pastor Lambrick in ep.VI? That gave me shivers. What are we even talking about?

flint gifting miranda la galatea - a story involving two friends in love with the same person who agree to not let it interfere with their friendship, and more broadly as a whole, an examination of how different lives intertwine - as a means of apologizing is so impactful it literally gave me new brain circuitry undiscovered by science. just the quiet understanding between them of how much thomas meant to the other, even though their relationships with him were very different. we don't see alot of miranda and thomas together in the flashbacks but from what we do see, it tells us what we need to grasp the depths of her loss and why she misses her life back then so badly.

truly like... he was her twin. they shared such an open, playful affection. there was an abundance of free-flowing admiration in the way they talked to or about each other, they trusted each other completely with their personal lives without reservation, and their mutual happiness together was so transparent and palpable. when miranda walked into the study and they joked around together the room practically lit up (can we blame james for acting like a deer in headlights there). like their free-spirit bestie bohemian vibe was radiant. regardless of whether you interpret their arrangement as a lavender marriage or a romantic/sexual one, it would have been rare for a man and a woman in that era to find a genuinely happy partnership of equals the way they did.

so the few times we see when james oversteps a bit and acts like his grief and anger are more important than hers and miranda snaps back... miranda truly a better woman than i am because i think it would've been valid for her to hit back a little more severely. james was with thomas for ~9(?) months, but what miranda had with him was presumably years.

so when flint gives her la galatea with the inscription "i'm sorry"... yes, that's a well-deserved apology indeed, and now my neurological functioning will never be the same again

[sailorblossoms-rankane]

Can I ask your analysis on 'who says you're cute' episode?

On the scene where Ranma and Akane walk after visiting Dr. Tofu's clinic (Akane's crying scene is so heartbreaking).

I think that Ranma said 'that hairstyle looks good on you' is out of guilt. When he hears that Dr. Tofu's words don't affect her as she accepts the fact that the man has a huge crush on her sister, this makes him act to say something sorry in a roundabout way.

(I know he apologizes before they visit Dr. Tofu's office, but still, he feels guilty)

But I think it's shifted into something when Akane said and smiled so beautifully (I love love love love love that scene!) 'thank you, that makes me happy'.

That made him realize that Akane is so cute. (I think Ranma (before the cutting hair scene) thought Akane was cute, but this moment really changed the way his thought of her.)

The word, cute, has much deeper meaning now after that scene (to him). This is the reason why Ranma has trouble saying how cute she is (the armor arc really makes the boi fumble so bad when saying how cute she is, and good lord, the Romeo and Juliet scene).

But when Ranma says Ukyo 'you've become so cute' scene, I notice how lackluster it is. I think that Ranma says to Akane 'you're cute when you smile' and the Ukyo cute is the same.

Ranma didn't fumble when he said cute to Akane because he didn't realize his little crush on his cute little tomboy. Ranma saying that to Ukyo is like seeing a long time friend and seeing the changes on her (finally knowing that his friend is a she).

So yeah.... Thoughts???

This is the chapter before "you're cute when you smile" ... he knows damn well he likes her, he's just trying to protect himself by denying her cuteness because he thinks he has no chance with her. He falls for her first, but falling in love is also a process...

Ranma tells you is not guilt, or him feeling sorry or trying to cheer up Akane. He even gets pissed when Akane says it.

this is Ranma feeling guilty:

Nothing Ranma ever says or does to or with Akane is comparable to what he does with other girls. If anything, comparing should be to highlight how different it is...

This is a rejection. This can be associated with guilt as Ukyo often is...(even noticing she's a girl, given the ass whooping he just gave her and everything he just learned. It can be taken as an overcorrection)

The following scene is romantic. Look at how different the framing is – you're not meant to ever compare this to say it's the same as when he says it to other girls! Look at the lighting, how big the panels are, how it takes a full page, highlighting its importance... It doesn't matter that Ranma, who's in the process of falling for Akane, who already knows he likes her but hasn't figured out how much yet, is smooth about saying it. He knows he's telling the girl he likes that she's cute. He's telling her "I'm here, notice me" while being a bit of a jester about it ("gotcha" ... it's a bit of a game, you see, and directly connects this scene to the scene you mention)

he doesn't struggle with telling her she's cute when he's a jester (that he's teasing her like this shows comfort with her that he has with nobody else too)

Also, he does get in his way in the "you're cute when you smile" chapter. He's his own worst enemy, and he "ruins it" here

I agree with this:

"The word, cute, has much deeper meaning now after that scene (to him). This is the reason why Ranma has trouble saying how cute she is"

but this is why

A common thing when Ranma is watching over Akane's unrequited love is jealousy. He notices her being all cutesy in front of the doc and is bothered, and the next time they're over there he keeps pulling on her pigtails to get her attention when she starts acting like that again. "Pay attention to me, not him"

He tries to put Akane's feelings first in some parts, like here (he can't even look at her, he doesn't like this, but he's already showing you Akane's happiness is important to him)

But when Akane says "I'm over him" this is framed as something hopeful through paneling and lighting, and Ranma does what has been doing for a while "I'm here, pay attention to me... notice me" he jumps so he's in front of her so she literally "notices him" ... "look at me"

I think connecting this to guilt is the worst possible thing you can do (which is why Ranma gets pissed) when you think about the story behind Akane's hair. When Akane doesn't accept what he offers out of guilt is fine (like carrying her) but this isn't because he's offering his feeling here. He tends to call her uncute when he doesn't like something she's doing or feels rejected in some way (or when he's trying to downplay his feelings)

When Ranma says he prefers her shorter hair, he is stating his preference. He has to get away from her and gets to a high place like a little cat, trying to get comfortable but incredibly shy anyway, this is very difficult for him... we see several instances of Ranma dealing with guilt (Ukyo, for example, is constantly connected with guilt) and it doesn't look like this.

And this is huge, because the long hair is linked to her molding herself after someone else to get love, and the short hair is her true self. So this is Ranma saying "I like your true self better" ... so Akane smiles at him with genuine happiness (accepting his feelings, even if part of her still wonders if it's guilt). She's smiling as her true self so Ranma, who already liked her, falls even harder for her... part of why things change for him is that from that moment on, the reasons to be in denial are no longer "I have no chance with her" ... if calling her uncute is sometimes linked with Ranma feels rejected, acknowledging her cuteness in his head is the opposite. Ranma likes her smile because he likes it when she's happy (because he likes her!) but this is also the start of her smiles being connected to bonding and affection (more consciously).

Here's something else:

Ranma knows Akane's roughness, and he likes it. He provokes her to get that side of her: he can deal with roughness and genuinely enjoys fighting with her. It's what he's used to (blame genma)

But he struggles to see Akane's sweetness (even though it's the first thing she shows him with "you wanna be friends?") He struggles with it because it's too disarming.

so this is Ranma being unable to deny her sweetness, and falling even harder... things start becoming difficult then not because he has no chance, but because his feelings become too big, too much

i might be forgetting something here, it's the second time i'm typing this because tumblr ate my first response lol i'm not even gonna proofread, a bitch is tired

[simply-mei]

timebomb

am i the only one who doesn't like timebomb? i mean theres nothing wrong with liking the ship i obviously wouldn't judge others for having a different opinion than me, but lots of things about the ship just doesn’t sit right with me personally.

like for example ekko was in the au for only two days (he showed up two days before his au self was supposed to show off his project and left the night before which means he was only there for two days) yet in those two days he managed to fall in love with someone who tried to kill him and has killed many of his friends multiple times? i get that he had an obvious cute little crush on her when they were kids (if you pay attention it was pretty obvious and also kinda cute) but that wasn't long lived because she literally switched sides after that and for the next 8 years they weren't in contact (not much contact other than her trying to kill him or/and his friends anyways) like idk about anyone else but i personally wouldn’t fall in love with the person who killed many of my loved ones let alone falling in love with that person within two days that’s just impossible. i understand that he probably still had some lingering feelings for his universe's jinx and that’s why it was so easy for him to fall in love with au powder in just two days but in my opinion it's still too rushed and unrealistic. i couldn’t even begin to imagine myself falling in love with someone who simply talked bad about me behind my back let alone someone who’s killed my loved ones and has tried to kill me too.

i like the IDEA of them like two former childhood friends turned into enemies who are lovers in a different universe and only one of them obtains the knowledge of the fact that they’re lovers in a different life, and so the only one who knows is left yearning for that kind of connection in their current universe as well??? Like that’s such a good trope. normally i’d eat it up, but the way it was portrayed messed it up for me personally, so now i’m left only liking the idea of the ship but not actually fully liking the ship itself, and i don’t think i ever will tbh.

now this is just my personal opinion i didn’t make this post as an opening for people to argue with me or try to change my mind in the comments nor did i make this post to bash anyone who likes the ship since its an overall nice trope and they’re conanly together so i dont see why i’d bash anyone who likes this ship i simply made this post to see if anyone else agrees and to just share my opinion and simply yap on MY blog cause i can do that since its MYYYY blog (say this for the sensitive people who will try to attack me)

[mimipolo]

Kim seo-wan x reader pt 2

Sorry for taking so long I fear my hyperfixation is dwindling💔

Pt 1

"Seo-wan?" your voice carries a hoarseness of disbelief that has his eyes snapping up to meet yours.

"[Name]...?"

"Seo! I can't believe you're...!" As you descend the few extra steps to come face to face with him your smile falters. He looks tired. Exhausted. Like it was too much to carry the weight on his bones. Your dimming excitement was clear and he couldn't bear to see it. It was the same face his parents made when they came to pick him up. Happy, relieved, and yet so afraid. Nervous that anything could send him back that downward spiral. He doesn't want to worry them, but what could he expect?

Looking at you felt like a dream, after so many months at the hospital it was like he was relearning the structure of your face. You look more tired too, but in the way it's shown you've matured, experienced new things. Effectively using the time he'd been away, away for far too long. His former mediator, his goal, you were everything he admired and more, so much it hurt to be near you and watch you bloom. Though it was all he wished. It just would've been better if he could stand beside you on that pedestal.

It was like you had everything figured out. You understood your own balance, able to handle change when exams didn't go your way and still were able to find stable footing. And from the sound of it from neighbours, still found a respectable job all in an entirely new country. You were unreal to him. Everything he wanted and wanted to be, but he just couldn't.

"[Name]." He mutters awkwardly pushing up his glasses in that familiar habit you adored.

He hadn't expected to be caught on the way up, he had told himself after Nurse couldn't go for tea if nothing else intervenes he's just do it. But of course you were there, as respectable and calming as you always were.

"It's been a little bit, hasn't it?" he says, forcing a smile you saw through immediately.

He knew his parents had told most people he went across the county to try studying somewhere else for the upcoming exam. Though it didn't matter whatever lie was fabricated as he still failed. Nodding lightly and accepting the condolences of his neighbours for another one of his many losses. He couldn't bear it.

But looking at you now that didn't seem like the story you were told, staring at him like he had come back to life a completely new person. Which was true in its own way, he felt a hollow copy of the person he was before.

"It has... want to come in for tea?"

And he felt himself gravitating towards your prescence, like he always had.

-

Inside your apartment you immediately knew something was off. You'd like to sum it to the classes in physcolgy and mental health you took a few years ago but the signs of it would pain you to even try to ignore. Fatigue was written all over his expression, the Seo-wan that was so stubborn about his goals seemed to be disappearing right in front of you. And you didn't even want to begin to think about why he's so many floors above his if not to visit anyone.

"My mum told you the truth I'm guessing?" your grip on the pot of tea stiffens but you eventually nod to which he sighs shakily, running his hands over his face like it'd get rid of the sour expression on his face.

He hated how he felt ashamed you knew, he hated how badly this has affected him despite his best efforts to go back to a normal life. He wanted to forget it all. Even now, the normal small acts of kindness you always gave him now felt out of sympathy as you handed him a cup of his favourite tea.

"How've you been holding up? You're not studying too hard right?

You really wanted to avoid bombarding him with questions but you couldn't help it. You sat side my side on your couch, you didn't have one of those pretty small tables with cushions his mother had so it was good enough.

He laughed bitterly at your words, he cradled the cup in his hands, despite the sweet aroma and warmth of his favourite tea surrounding his senses he couldn't bring himself to take a sip.

"I guess I have. No surprise I failed these exams too, after all that time I wasted..." Your grip on your own cup visibly tenses at his words, fully shocked he even took the exam in the first place, he had such a small time to prepare how could he expect to get a good result.

"You shouldn't have, look, you just got out the hospital more stress is not what you need." Not when it's what put you there in the first place, is what you'd like to say but you bite your tongue, already feeling yourself over stepping.

"I don't know... it's just embarassing, to think I spent all this time just living in this fantasy world-"

Your brows furrow slightly, not completely aware of the depths of his condition, it was something Mrs Kim didn't feel comfortable to explain to you and you understood that.

"Im sorry-um. I never realised it before but... you were my first mediator, always cheering me on despite it all. I never realised how much it meant till you left your apprenticeship..."

You're setting your cup on the table now, taking his still untouched tea too on placing it there as well. Attentively, you take his hands into yours, your sudden action inclining him to look at you. Your eyes softening when you see the lost yet unwavering gaze he has on you. He always seemed to look at you like that. What you failed to notice is how his hands stopped shaking from the moment you reached out for him, his body felt less jittery, that was just the kind of affect you had on him.

"You should've called, I didn't even know where you were until a week after I came back." His gaze wanders away from yours as you scold him, though he isn't fully upset, not when you're speaking so gently.

"It would be embarassing to, would it not? How else could you see me as someone reliable." For the first time you see the way his face contorts into such a deep hatred for himself, his grip on your hands tightening slightly.

"How could you see me as anything more than this...?" His voice shakes and you feel your heart drop. Your thumbs start to run over the back of his hands, unable to find the right words to stay but still wanting to comfort him. You knew what he was feeling, having felt it directly and from people around you. That weird sense of shame you have to carry, though whatever happened to you was far out of your control.

"Seo... There's nothing to be ashamed or worried about. You're still someone I admire and want to see grow."

His gaze meets you confused. You admire him? How could you when all he's done is fail since he met you. But you recognised features he missed in himself. His absolute focus, determination and thoughtfullness to his family were just a few.

"I truly admire how strong you are, so don't do anything stupid." You can't help the way your throat tightens up at the end.

His eyes immediately rim with tears at your words, he didn't expect you to guess why he was so many floors above his own. But it was clear, he wasn't on his way to see anyone else, more than happy to go to your apartment.

"I'm far from impressive [Name]." He mumbled with a small laugh, followed soon after with a short sob, tears involuntary falling as he holds your hands tighter.

Your hands leave his to wipe away at the tears as they fell, thumbing them away with a carefulness that made him shudder. Taking off his tear stained glasses for him, setting them aside. When your arms return outstretched he doesn't hesitate to fall into them. Letting out all the tears he'd refused to shed in the hollow walls of his house.

"Well I think you are, and I'm usually right so you should too."

He chuckled again against your shoulder and you laugh alongside him. For the first time since returning home he felt like he was alive again, whole. Maybe it was time to accept his friends were right and it was more than just admiration he felt for you. But that could wait another day. Another day where he'd like to see you again.

DID IT‼️‼️ Sorry this turned out more angsty than expected that happens when I'm tired.

Tag list: @kimseo-wan @keimitchy @rohjaewonlvr

[alyimoss]

YES YES YES IVE NOTICED THIS BEFORE!!!! the reverse is also true: chara calls asgore dad, but toriel is just toriel. both have a parent theyre closest with

that does make me think tho like. frisk seems to me like he would either call both parents just by their name or call both mom and dad. not pick one and leave the other. hes shown to be more considerate of the residents of xtale in later timelines than chara, whos grown much more disillusioned, hateful, and violent. chara has way fewer problems treating people more poorly because in his mind the end justifies the means and as long as the goal hes working toward is noble (which. it at first is but later twists into something completely different. but i think he still considers it noble and the "best outcome for everyone" and thats ahat matters most to him) any horrible thing he does is completely fine. hes playing on the same battlefield as xgaster, after all, so he has to adopt his same tactics. frisk, though also shown to have grown more hateful and violent and disillusioned, shows a lot more hesitation in using and/or hurting the residents of xtale.

anyway, all that to say that he just doesnt rlly strike me as the type of guy to just exclude one parent, especially if it hurts/saddens them. like i could be completely wrong and hes just got a preference contrasting charas bc siblings, but. idk.

bc chara not calling toriel mom immediately makes me think of timeline III. the timeline right after the one where chara got the father figure he yearned for. it was the first timeline to use underswap as a base instead of the original timeline. in the episode, we see both frisk and chara sitting in toriels lap. frisk is chatting happily with her, but chara looks livid

i wonder if chara refuses to call toriel mom because she hasnt been the mother he knew for so, so long. she doesn't even know it. and swap toriel taking asgores role and some if not all of his personality (depending on the interpretation), it probably felt to chara like she was trying to replace asgore. a shoddy stand in, smiling at him almost in mockery as he has to mourn the death of his father alone because noone except for him, frisk, xgaster, and alphys even know he died. for all the other residents of xtale, that series of events never happened.

toriel asks him whats wrong and he has to fight the urge to snap at her, to yell at her that she knows. she knows and shes mocking him. that shell never be him. that she shouldnt have ever dared to do something like this so close to his death. and he only barely holds that all in because he knows shes not doing this on purpose. she doesnt know what happened. she didnt ask to be remade in someone else's image. she doesn't even know she has been

the whole situation fuels his hatred of xgaster more, because now more than ever he feels like hes being toyed with. first it was just the world. just seeing what changed. and then one of the most precious things to him was taken from him by the very man who promised him the world, a marionette facsimile dangling by strings from the claws chara couldve sworn he didnt always have.

and again, its not toriels fault. but it leaves such a strong impression on him that she forever changes in his eyes. shes no longer the loving mother. shes someone who doesnt belong, someone he doesnt recognize as his own. she changed from who she was when she WAS his mom, all the way back in timelines I and II, and the mother he loved is dead. gone. erased. irreplaceable. and no matter what xtoriel does, chara can never bring himself to call her mom again

and, on the contrary, he latches to asgore hard. because hes also changed, hes not exactly as he remembers him, but hes back. hes alive. hes still asgore and hes still his father and he missed him so much. he doesnt care about the smaller details, nothing matters except the fact that his father is back. that the man who gave him hope and support and company when he felt so crushingly lonely under the weight of losing his world is back, and that means chara isnt alone anymore. hes not hopeless. and he holds to that tiny hope as tight as he can

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[thefixations-ofmine]

Mister June and the globetrotter

Bucktommy | 3.3k | Rated G (sexual inuendos) Entry for the @bucktommywinterfest, round 10 February 2-8: Tommy in the firefighter calendar and Buck 1.0 meets closeted Tommy This Idea comes from this post right here, with a twist. Note: Bold italics are texts. Dash changes POV, star cuts time.

Main Masterlist | Winter fest Masterlist | AO3

So, were you hoping for anything from this date? Buck reads the text, surprised. The person on the other end - who isn’t Jodie - has definitely been woken up at three in the morning on a Wednesday and wants to keep talking? Well, he’s bored and could use the distraction, considering he just lost a very good fuck opportunity, so he goes on in good-old Buck fashion;

Not really. I don’t ever give it too much thought. It’s just sex for now. Buck presses send and then realizes that makes him sound shallow. Pot meet kettle. He goes on to defend himself: I move around a lot, settling down isn’t in the 5-year plan. The little white lie reaches its destination, then he sets his phone down to get the shower started.

I see. I guess that’s fair and keeps people from having expectations. Has to feel lonely though, no?

Buck reads the messages and there’s a pinch in his heart he can’t control. Yes. ‘Yes’ is the answer but he’s never said that to anyone, even to Maddie because he doesn’t want her to fuss over him on top of everything else - much of the reason he’s running around is to stay out of people’s hair.

The only thing he can come up with is to be Buck, again – or rather this persona he’s allowing himself to be – so he takes a photo of his naked chest from a low angle and sends it with a caption: Wouldn’t be lonely if you wanted to join. 

He feels himself grow hard as a pavlovian response to the sexual chase, and his brain absentmindedly captures a few extra shots, one precisely showing his back in the mirror down to the dip of his ass crack and sends them. His thumbs linger over the screen to add another quirky line, but the dots on the other end appear, and disappear, and this goes on too long for his liking. Before he loses his entire rhythm, Buck decides to leave it at that and jump into the shower, the scalding water feels good on his back, his hand finds refuge around his dick, the comforting gesture sending a jolt up his back and his low hum carries the desperation of a long day.

-

Tommy’s body goes so warm when he receives the pictures he swears he can hear the AC start running in the room. One photo shows the dips and valleys of his abs perfectly, and Tommy loves that he’s not dried-out and cut either. Despite the very short attempts at flirting when he was younger, this was the first time he got such explicit pictures and his body shudders when he goes back down to the edge of the screen where a very apparent bush peeks barely.

The second photo breaks his composure but his hand is quick enough to shut off the groan that creeped up his chest. That kid (Evan - his name sits in the raunchy greeting at the top of the conversation) is giving him everything he wants and it’s pumping up blood around his body at an alarming rate. He studies the way Evan’s back arches against the counter and how Tommy’s thumbs would look amazing in those dimples, and fuck-

This is affecting him more than it should. He usually has to go digging through pages of porn to find a body he likes and he shouldn’t, but he lets himself linger a little too long for his liking. He shifts in bed, not entirely sure what to do or even what to say.

He wants to play along, ask for more, but the poor guy probably thinks he’s volleying with a pretty woman and Tommy’s a fan of not building expectations. And, well, nobody knows Tommy is gay, maybe not even himself entirely but the way his hands are getting damp feels like a very autonomous bodily response to him, so he has to do something about it. Or nothing at all. Pot meet kettle, again.

He needs to push himself to do so but Tommy sets the phone down on the little table next to his bunk and forces himself to wait this out as he tries to catch up on sleep. He usually has no trouble falling asleep, but he finds himself counting sheep this time. Or maybe it’s to keep the impending truth he was growing in his pants at bay.

A call comes in just before his alarm, twenty minutes before they would all be free to go home. Chim grunts from the bunk below, seemingly more aggravated by the situation.

“Rise and shine, superstar,” Tommy teases, grabs his phone and jumps into his boots before running to the truck. The call came from across town so he gets a few minutes to scroll through his aviation forums as the engine carries them out. When the screen turns on, a notification tag shows that Evan had sent him four texts during the night. He can’t say he has forgotten about him, the pictures still haunting his thoughts, but Tommy hadn’t come up with an escape plan either. He has a quick look around and holds his breath even though Chim and Hen are sitting across from him - from the way things were headed, he could definitely have a dick pic waiting for him. He lets his thumb unlock the screen.

Shit. I’m sorry. That was too much.I guess I was still in the mood, you know…Fuck, I shouldn’t say that either. I’m a douche.Anyway, um. I have to be up early to catch a flight. So maybe talk later?

Tommy grins stupidly and the breath he held comes out in a broken chuckle. Evan has to be in his twenties. Early twenties, even, because if the pictures weren’t indication enough, that rambling nailed the coffin. And Tommy does want to keep talking to him, for selfish reasons or to see how this pans out, he’ll have to figure that out, but he has to be honest about the situation, for Evan’s and his own sake.

So, he sends a few texts and puts the phone in his turnout, not expecting an immediate reply;

All good. I get the fun behind this.I need to be honest though, I’m a guy. My name’s Tommy. I’m 36 and a firefighter in LA. I’m still up for a chat, just thought you should know.So I’m sorry you sent those photos, but they’re safe with me.Oh! And I have a safe flight, Mr. Globetrotter. ;)

Tommy feels the vibration of hope as soon as the phone hits the bottom of the pocket, and his heart picks up a few beats per minute knowing he might have a text from... No, Tommy shakes his head, don’t go there. Not a second ago he was trying to convince himself this whole deal should be left to a short and silly conversation about a wrong number. The truck pulls up to their destination and he can focus on doing what he does best.

It’s only two hours later when Tommy can have another look at his phone, and his stomach flips when the notification on the screen is just a random email. He chuckles, really shouldn’t be that bummed out, he thinks as he opens their conversation. His thumb hits the three dots next to the number and he goes to add Evan’s name as a contact.

Yeah, he’s fucking done for.

*

Evan puts on the blue LAFP t-shirt and lets his hands run down his front, admiring the color on himself and it’s evident how hopeful he is for the road ahead. He starts the academy in less than a week and it’s nerve wracking, but Tommy has been sure to guide him through the steps like a great mentor. And it’s been great finding a reason to keep talking to him, finally. 

“Tuck in the shirt. I know it’s not the army, but they still care about little details,” Tommy says over the speaker as he watches Evan try on the uniform. He loves how eager he is. He’s already noted that down on his recommendation letter. When Evan had mentioned moving back to LA, things just clicked and Tommy was the one to start talking about the job.

“Uh, yeah. Th-thank you, Tommy.” Evan proceeds to fix the uniform and huffs proudly as he twirls in front of the mirror. Tommy still thinks the boy is in on the joke and is trying to see where his self-control will break, then Evan grabs the phone and smiles and Tommy knows he’d forgive Evan anything. “What would I do without you?”

“You want an honest answer?” Tommy says and they both laugh easily.

They facetimed once or twice, or maybe five times over the last weeks, and each time the conversation gets deeper and more genuine, and Evan doesn’t know it yet but him being careless about his sexuality is doing wonders for Tommy on his end of things. He had been more than okay with seemingly sending risky photos to a man, and he even complimented Tommy at large when he got a basic selfie back for a profile picture. There was still one thing to figure out;

“Want me to drive you to your interview?” Tommy offers boldly, only slightly regretting it. They hadn’t had the talk about meeting in person and that could be crossing boundaries. Maybe Evan saw the wince on his face just then because he starts giving him an excuse.

“My sister, um Maddie, she just moved to town also. We haven’t really seen each other in a while. I asked her to come with me.” Tommy nods and smiles. Still, he waits for the moment Evan realizes he’s being pushed against a wall, like Tommy is out to play some trick on him. “I’d much rather see you at my graduation. If you’d like. Of course, um, no pressure, I-”

“I will be there, Evan.” Tommy says the words calmly even if his mind screams of excitement. He promises himself to tell him he’s gay before then. Maybe even let the station in on it as well; if he wants to believe in chosen families, he’s going to need to be honest and open.

It’s five months. He can do it.

“O-okay. I gotta go. I have a few things to do before I get there.”

“I’ll see you around, Evan.”

“Honestly, I never thought I’d love to hear my name out loud so much,” Evan answers and dips his head down. Tommy melts when he does that. He wants to kiss the top of his head and tell him he’s being so adorable. Then Tommy wonders how Evan’s name would sound coming out like thick honey on his tongue as he moans and okay, Tommy needs to end this video call right now or risk embarrassing himself.

“Think of a nickname, then. I call dibs on your name,” he adds with a wink and ends the call.

Tommy goes back to his living room where a pile of paperwork waits for him. The forms to be recertified for flying had been in his office for months, maybe a year, and talking to Evan had made him realize that every dream deserves a chance. So when Tommy convinced Evan to join the firefighting academy, Evan had dared him to get into flying again. Then Tommy talked to Bobby, and things started to piece together like a puzzle. He’d be transferring to Harbor station just before Evan graduates, and perhaps Tommy used his charms and wits to make sure his empty spot was warm and ready for Evan to make his probation.

-

“Maddie, you don’t get it. I-I don’t want to make a bad impression!” Buck waves his hand around as he refills his sister’s coffee. He sits at the end of the table and prepares for the older-sibling advice to be laid on him.

“Evan, I’m not sure I understand, didn’t you just meet Tommy? Actually, you haven’t even met him.”

“Well, it’s been months now technically. The academy alone lasted five months! And-and he’s been there every step of the way, I just-”

“Okay, okay. But let me say that again. This is the first time you’ll see him in person, Evan-”

“Buck! Um- ha. Everyone at the academy called me Buck, and I think I like the nickname.” Maddie sighs, annoyed. But she smiles anyway and proceeds;

“Buck,” she says the name with a faint grimace, “I just want to make sure you’re not expecting too much. I mean it’s one thing to get along over the phone a few times a week. Maybe it won’t be as sugar-coated in person. I want you to know that.” Buck takes a sip of coffee and a bite in his bagel. A quick look at his watch: two hours left before the ceremony. He needs to iron his uniform and grow out some balls. And convince his sister that he’s not reading too much into it even if his stomach does a weird thing now - like when he eats something that disagrees with him - whenever Tommy says his name because it’s his to say and that perhaps he recorded one of their conversations so he could listen to it on repeat while he fucked some pent-up anger into his cheap fleshlight. Shit.

Maddie is right, this could all come crashing down. Buck never thought he would find such a connection with someone, but it seems so obvious now; Buck had never given anyone a flying chance at a conversation, let alone parts of his brain he had never exposed. He’s not certain what that says about him just yet, but he’d lie if he said he didn’t hope for this to pan out well. Knowing someone in the LAFD right out the gate will be detrimental, and hopefully the coffee dates will also be fun.

“Anyway, I appreciate this, Maddie. I do. He’s just a friend. Someone I can rely on and who’s made substantial efforts to help me. I need that in my life. Everything is so volatile.” Buck feels all lovey-dovey now, and he reaches for his sister’s hands. “And I need you. So tell me, how do you like LA so far?” 

-

Tommy fidgets. Tommy never fidgets. But he’s sitting on a little white wooden chair in the back rows of this open-field ceremony and his leg won’t stop bouncing and he’s biting the inside of his lips and he’s looking around frantically and… maybe Tommy does fidget now. The ceremony is about to start and he needs to get his shit together because Evan will be one of the firsts to come up alphabetically and Tommy knows he’ll be scanning the crowd for him. It doesn’t help that today of all day the sun decided to be a menace to humanity. His hands are damp and his collar scrapes around his neck and Tommy needs to remember that he’s not at an army boot camp and he’s safe and sound.

He looks at the gift he brought to ground himself, but he wonders if that or his eagerness might freak Evan out. Then again, he’s meeting the man who shamelessly sent him pictures bordering on nudes for the past month and he hadn’t returned the favour, so he hopes that this gift can bridge the gap.

“Why does this feel like some reality TV show and you’re about to meet someone your mom picked out for you?” Chim jokes beside him, obviously aware of his nerves. He pondered bringing someone with him, but this was a good idea - Buck would have his sister, so he could have support as well. Who better to take that spot than mister comic-relief himself.

Plus, Tommy had made some efforts on his end, as he promised himself, so he came out to the station over one of Bobby’s amazing dinners as well as letting them know about the transfer, reinforcing how proud and privileged he feels to be part of this house. Their acceptance and encouragement had both been amazing and heart-breaking, bringing Tommy back to his childhood and how he wished someone had hugged him the way Bobby did. Tommy didn’t cry often either, but he did that day.

“He hasn’t been picked out for me. It was a weird turn of events, Chim. We’ve been talking for months. It just… feels like it could work out.”

“Yeah, some like to call that fate!” Chim proclaims with a nudge of the elbow. Suddenly, some bells ring and both of them startle, dragging their attention back to the stage. Tommy sits up straight and glares at Chim when he feels his shoulders bounce against his.

*

Chim is chit-chatting with Evan’s sister as they all wait for him to come out of the building. Which he does, twenty minutes later and suddenly Tommy wishes he had taken longer. He needs to calm the hamster doing a marathon in his brain. He needs to go back home and wear more ample clothing and leave the goddamn gift on the kitchen island, but those long legs straddle quickly and Evan joins them before Tommy can even swallow his fears.

The itching on his neck comes back but Tommy is good at ignoring it. He bounces on his heels a couple times as they lock eyes and let the rest of the world fade around them. He knows Maddie says something cheerful to him, and perhaps Chim joined, but for now Evan is beelining towards him and Tommy’s mouth falls open.

“Hi, Evan.” He finds the courage to say.

“Hi,” he whispers before crashing his face against Tommy’s and backing them into the truck. The kiss is clumsy and heated and perfect. Tommy curses the damn gift in his hands as he can’t let them roam over Evan’s back the way Evan’s exploring his chest. They pull apart just before the rest of Tommy’s body could start to respond.

“Was, um. Was that okay?” Evan asks, eyes amorous and fixated on Tommy’s mouth. Tommy manages to look around then and finds their guests gleefully looking at them. He never wants to leave this bubble, but-

“I’m so sorr-”

“No.” Tommy realizes he hasn’t said a word. “No, fuck, that was. That was… how did you know?” Evan gives him a face then and the details of their conversations come crawling back, or maybe Tommy knows he wasn’t very subtle on the ogling despite being behind a screen. His body feels heavy and grounded and he wants his lips back on Evan’s.

“Listen,” Maddie chimes in. “It’s warm, and it’s just shy of happy hour. You guys wanna join us for beers?” Us? Oh. A double date? Yeah, Tommy can do with that to ease the nerves and get a more sensible conversation going. He nods, then turns to Evan.

“Y-yeah, that’s okay,” the young man answers and before he can head to the car Tommy grabs his wrist.

“I have this for you. Special graduation gift.”

“The firefighter calendar?” Evan looks perplexed despite the smile on his face.

“Well, I never sent any spicy photos back so… I’m mister June,” Tommy says. The knot in his gut tightens when Evan’s cheeks go flaming red and he chokes on a laugh.

“I promise to make good use of it!” Tommy and Chim start laughing and it takes a moment to register in his mind. He goes; “Oh, no! Not what I meant, I-”

“Please. I hope so.” Tommy can finally bring his hand to the back of his neck and close the space between them in another searing kiss. One that promises so much, yet leaves everything to be discovered. Chim whistles and that’s a good thing, because Tommy has years to catch up on and he’s not above using the spacious back seat of his truck.

tags: @weewoo911 @hmg621, @chococara25

[jun-hannie]

18+/mdi

popular friend!Chan x fem!reader

drabble: friends2lovers, teasing, smut, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of seungcheol & mingyu, penetrative sex, fingering(f receiving), dry humping, nipple play(f receiving), fluff

wc: 2k

a/n: happy birthday dino !! a little drabble in honor of the future of kpop mr. lee chan ! i hope you enjoy reading, i plan on writing more in the future !

The smell of the book will always make you swoon; a swoon that is romantic but few could recognize. Chan clears his throat from next to you, breaking your focus. You look up to him, raising your head from the table.

“Can I help you?” You sigh aloud, to which he quirks a brow in return. His facial expression is enough for you to know that he is judging you, but nothing too serious. 

“Please let me enjoy this book for once.” You say, lowering your head back to the book once again.

“Are you reading or are you about to eat it?” Chan laughs. 

“I imagine you probably have a party to get ready to host later, so you should start leaving now.” 

At the moment, you were trying to enjoy your latest read in between your homework. Until your friend from high school, Chan, spotted you and decided to annoy the hell out of you where he finds some kind of childish pleasure from.

You and Chan met in your sophomore year of high school after your teacher placed you next to him for the rest of the year. Chan went from being a nerdy, awkward, and the kid to an obnoxious, rowdy, and popular person in a span of a few months. However, whenever around you, he toned down and wouldn’t tease as much as you have barely changed, maybe aside from your looks. Chan grew into his face which later would come in handy to his college years, specifically the ones where he would spend at the same school as you. 

Everyone around you assumed you were an older sister to Chan due to his obedience and his shift when you were around. As much as you wanted to get away from the limelight that followed Chan, you were unable to lose the reign of the bubbly dinosaur that trailed around you. Chan being in a frat was predicted by you but you still strayed away from the party life that Chan was practicing. Something Chan didn’t mind too much. 

“You’re right, I do actually.” Chan nodded as he stretched his arms, not appearing to get up anytime soon. “But I don’t want to leave you on your own yet. You know since its January, it gets darker way sooner, so I’d rather walk you back to your dorm before I head over to the house.”

“It’s okay, my friend is coming by to walk with me,” You start, seeing Chan’s shoulders sit back at the mention of another person.

“Don’t worry, it’s Ellie.” You laugh.

“I don’t particularly like Elliana, you know.” Chan argues.

The discomfort that is shared between Ellie and Chan is that Ellie is a party girl and always turns up at his parties, where she would later snitch to you about the different array of girls he would kiss and sneak off with. It’s not something that you were a fan of hearing as Chan was an old friend to you, but it gave you something to tease him later about.

“I know, but she just told me about the red head she saw you tangling your hands into.” Chan’s ears turn red at the mention of another girl he messed around with. 

“We didn’t even do anything. I don’t understand why she even tells you. It’s really none of her business in the first place.” He frowns deeply, reminding you of his younger self making you laugh. 

“It’s funny to see how you react, besides I don’t even care so don’t feel embarrassed. You should be more worried about catching something in the long run.” You comment and Chan looks down.

“Well that’s one way to kick a man out of a library.” He says dryly. “I’ll see you, Y/N. Don’t be a party pooper from the comfort of your dorm.” 

Chan’s comment has you thinking of something else to tease him with but Ellie springs up beforehand. 

“Hi Chan, or should I say man-whore?” Ellie says, smiling enough for 10 people. 

“Ugh, please don’t come later on, Elliana.” Chan practically begs to which Ellie laughs.

“Don’t say that Channie, or else I won't bring my hot friends.” Ellie retorts.

Chan looks uncomfortable with Ellie’s comment and instead turns around and leaves without another word. 

“Hm, usually when I say that he basically jumps for joy at the thought of another hot girl entering his premise.” Ellie says, plopping next to you.

“Really? He always acts like girls are not of interest to him. At least to me, I guess.” You say, closing your book, it wasn’t being read anyways. 

Ellie doesn’t respond, simply leaving a satisfied smile.

“Alright, we can go to the dorm.” You say getting up fixing your shirt correctly.

“Woo, let’s go!” Ellie nearly shouts, having you slap your hand over her mouth. 

“Too loud?” Ellie squeaks, and you nod.

— At The Dorm —

“Green or red?” Ellie asks, wearing a fitted red dress and hold a green one next to her. She spins around to show you.

You examine both dresses from your bed. 

“Red, it has a sexiness to it.” You smile at her, dropping your eyes back to your phone. Chan sent a text asking about hanging out with him and his mom when she comes down to visit.

“Perfect!” Ellie smiles, running her hands down her body approvingly. 

You respond to Chan and go back onto Instagram where you see people you go to school with posting pictures and videos from parties, some of which you can see Chan chatting with different girls. You sigh as you feel FOMO from the pictures alone. Although you don’t like parties, there was something about seeing Dino having fun with other girls that made you feel like you were missing out on a part of him that everyone else got to see. Who was this person that Chan was hiding from you? Was he embarrassed of you?

“Can-uh Can I go to the party with you, Ellie?” You ask suddenly.

Even Ellie is caught off guard from your question and responds with a loud “Huh?”

“I just haven’t really gone to any parties as of recent so I felt like I was kind of missing out. I just wanted to go to one.” You ramble and Ellie’s faces lights up.

“Of course! Get ready, and then head to my room when you’re done! A couple of us are going to be pregaming before we go!” 

At that, you start brushing out your hair. You had makeup done already so there was only a little to be touched up, a little darker than usual. Then you shimmy into a black tight dress that you bought for parties, but has been rarely used. It falls barely above your butt.

You wander over to Ellie’s dorm room where there is loud music blaring already. You knock and Ellie rumbles out giggling, “WOO, COME TAKE A SHOT!”

You don’t question anything, and before you know it you’ve had 3 shots and are heading over to Chan’s frat house in the freezing cold without a coat. Not that you needed one, you couldn’t feel the snow.

The frat house is spilling with people already and you follow behind the rest of the girls. Already tipsy, you don’t look too out of place, but you still feel a little awkward. 

The inside is dark, which makes you feel a little more comfortable while your eyes scan to find a specific person. 

Ellie rushes over and suddenly hands you a red solo cup. “Drink this!” She shouts, which is loud even with the deafening music.

“What is it?” You ask, looking up from the cup, only for her to be gone already. 

Normal instincts are not in use as you take a long sip of the disgusting drink. It nearly makes you gag it up and it burns as it runs down your throat, but you feel lighter.

You pass by a few guys and stop when one of them stands in front of you, stopping you from leaving. 

“Hi, I’m Seungcheol.” The guy with the big arms smiles at you. You instinctively smile back. Before you could muster up a response, a large hand snakes around your waist and pulls you in.

“Hey guys, this is Y/N” Chan suddenly says, and you realize that Chan is the one with his arm around you. If you were sober, you probably would’ve pushed him away by now, but now your face just feels hot. 

“I thought she was, like, your sister or something?” One of the guys says, must taller than the others. 

“Gyu, shut up. No, this is my friend.” Chan asserts, but you can tell he is a little tipsy himself based on his awkward demeanor and reaction.

Before any of the guys could respond, Chan whisks you away to the other side of the room, where dozens of people are dancing drunkenly. 

“What are you doing here? I almost didn’t believe it was you until I saw Ellie with you.” Chan says quickly.

The drink must’ve hit faster than you thought because now your thoughts are all jumbled and all you can think about is how hot Lee Chan is. 

“I wanted to see how you act without me.” You pout, something that is completely out of the ordinary for you. Chan, clearly surprised by your response, laughs.

“Oh, did you? Well, you can’t know if you’re already drunk” Chan says, his smile reaching the corners of his eyes. 

“Aw, can you please show me?” You look like you’re about to cry.

“Hey, woah woah. It’s okay, You’re okay, come with me.” Chan says, his hands trying to comfort you, with your sudden explosion of sadness. 

Chan grabs a hold of your hand and you follow him upstairs. A shout from below comes from Ellie, “WOO GO CHAN! GET YOUR DREAM GIRL!”

You swing your head from Ellie back to Chan, “Who is your dream girl?”

Chan shakes his head, but doesn’t respond, so you stare at the back of his head where his ears are a dark red. You feel yourself sober up from a revelation that has your hands sweating.

Chan pulls you into a room that he turns the light on in, you assume it’s his room. You’ve never been to his room, but you feel like you’re spinning so you don’t think too much.

Chan has you sit on the bed with the dark blue sheets. “This is such a boy bed.” You comment.

“Well I am a boy.” Chan says, smiling.

“What are we doing here? Is this what you’re like at all your parties?” You ask, clearly confused. 

“No, I’m not. I don’t want you to see me like that because I’m not fun.” Chan says, handing you a water bottle, a little warm from sitting on his nightstand for however long. “Just stay here for a little bit to sober up, I think you have a really low tolerance.”

“But, I want to see how everyone sees you. I only see you as the cute, sweet, awkward boy who is sometimes annoying.” You explain and he listens thoroughly.

“I don’t want you to think of me like how Ellie does. If you don’t see me like that, then I’ll still be that sweet guy to you. I’d like to keep a good reputation, you know.” Chan says, smiling. 

“So are you really a man-whore?” You ask, slurring your words a little.

Chan just laughs at your bluntness. “Drink up.”

Taking another sip of water you just look at Chan and maybe it was the alcohol, but you couldn’t stop smiling at him. Hoping to not want to creep him out, you suddenly drop the smile.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and you swoon at how gentle he is. It was like a light you haven’t seen him in and it was so warm. Chan was so warm.

“You smell like a book.” You blurt out.

“What?” Chan asks, about to laugh.

“You smell like a book right now. Don’t worry, I like the way books smell.” You explain, looking straight at his collar bones that were peaking from his black tee shirt.

Before Chan can respond, you lean in and smell his neck. While not something that was intentionally sexual, Chan tenses up at the action.

You sit back and look at him. Chan is no longer smiling, the look on his face is the most serious it’s ever been. 

“I’m sorry, I had a get a better smell.” You explain, looking at your clammy hands. 

Suddenly, Chan lifts your chin and kisses you. It's a soft and gentle kiss, but you melt into it. Before you can properly kiss back, he is already pulling away. Your eyes flutter open and the outer parts of his face are reddening.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve just ruined everything. I know you probably see me as a brother and now I’ve just made this so awkward. Please just forget-” 

You cut him off and instead shut him up with a kiss. It’s a little sloppy, immature, and awkward, but that's how you both were. Chan starts to kiss back after a moment of surprise and starts to lead.

Chan’s hands place their place on your cheek and neck, respectably, before he pushes his body closer to yours.

You gasp when you feel his chest touching yours and he takes the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. He explores your mouth, moaning to each of your reactions that felt like too much for him. 

You find your hands on his chest, fingers dancing their way down to the hem, then pulling it over his head. When you break the kiss, your eyes scan his face. Cheeks a dark red, eyes heavy lidded, out of breath, and so hot. 

“Oh my god, look at you.” Chan starts, his arms reaching for waist, like his hand were already molded in your hips.”Do you want to continue? We can stop if you want.” Chan says, looking like he never wants to stop.

“No, please.” You respond, pulling him back in.

He helps slide your dress down past your chest, where he pulls away to lock his eyes onto your laced bra.

“Is it okay..” He asks, while you’re already unclasping it for him. 

His hands fly up to your chest and he squishes. He plays with your chest until he replaces his pinching fingers to light biting to your nipples. You become a moaning mess while your hands tug onto his short dark hair. 

“Can you please,” Before you can finish your sentence, Chan pulls his jeans off leaving one piece of fabric tailored on his body left.

You slowly pull off your panties and he gives his full attention. His pupils, blown out as he leans in to kiss you. He kisses you softly, while his fingers rub your clit. He swallows each of your moans and slides a finger in.

“You’re so so tight, is this all for me? Are you making a mess on my bed for me? Are you going to make it up to me?” Chan says as you moan out apologies, none of them meaning much as you’re grinding against his fingers.

“If I give you more, will you take it like a good girl?” Chan asks, using his other hand to squeeze himself to relieve some of the strain from not being able to fuck you quite yet.

“Please, give me more. Please, please” You cry out, which is not enough for Chan. He grinds his hardness against your bare cunt, “Would you be a good girl for me?” He asks again.

“Yes. Please, just for you.” You cry out, and without another word, Chan pulls his member out and pushes into you without warning.

You both groan at the stretch and he doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust to his size. 

After your nod of approval, he starts moving. “God, it feels like you were made just for me. I can’t believe you made me wait since high school. Do you know how bad I’ve wanted you?” Chan rambles as he continues thrusting. You can’t even register his words completely from the pleasure being so overbearing. 

“Chan, I’m so close.” You moan out and he starts moving faster.

You can feel him get close by how fast he is going and you throw your head back while you finish. You shut your eyes so tight and squeeze him in the process.

“Oh, I’m so close.” Chan says, pumping into you. You start getting overstimulated and your body starts shaking as he pulls out and cums onto your stomach. He groans and plops down next to you. 

You both are breathing heavily and stare at the ceiling. You look over at him and start laughing, remembering what he said during sex.

“So you really wanted me for that long?” You chuckled, the cool air from the room finally hitting you.

“Shut up.” Chan mumbles, ears becoming permanently red. “You said I smelt like books.”

“I like the way books smell.” You say, leaning over to kiss him.

[9mysterybook6]

This time Rhylie changed her name To:: the i m port ant girl for gacha

Please Stop Reporting My Blog On Valentine's Day🙄

((I'm always the wrong person Do not report my blog, because I'm the important goddess for all gacha community))

Seriously, do you really think anyone would listen to you?

((Everyone will never report me no matter how many times you expose me without knowing about my fake actions and consequences.

And again 9mysterybook6 is being Disrespectful to my blog.

Guys help me get rid of this junk.

Report her blog and avoid awareness now))

And secondly what about this nonsense

It is none of my business what your mistakes and actions are. You are responsible for yourself.

But every time your actions bring you consequences, you immediately start blaming others and spreading lies.

Here is Rhylie speech and it is all just guilt tripper,

oh no, why did megamanzer had blocked me?!

Did he blocked me for good, oh no...... and now someone who exposed me told him that he should have not supported or encouraging me?, I felt like I'm a bad person............. I'm Really So Stupid........ I'm totally a laughingstock, manipulative, Harraser, bully and a gultripper, I HAYE MY GUTS, AND FUCK YOU MYSTERIOUS STORIES!! FUCK YOU 9MYSTERYBOOK6 FOR YOUR SELFISH EXPOSE POSTS!!!!

Sorry I had yelled at her like this since my sadness, anger And Frustration like I Have already. Anyways, I felt sick in my head..... My Sisters And My Mother Are Feeling Sad For Me As They Notice That I Lost A Friend................My Pet Chupacabra Had Died Because I Killed It Due For Its Rabies.......................

Meanwhile In Reality Like We're On Like We Always On. does my blog and my posts and even my actions secretly have consequences, yes it does..........I don't deserve to have supporters or my blog like you guys have.............I'm a huge mistake and the problem too..................I just wished everybody could stop spreading awareness about me 💀💀

Do I Deserve To Get Banned As Anybody Reports My Blog?

(((I'm Angry At Her Too, there's nothing about your consequences.)))

(((You Might Be Stupid, But Do You Really?, you don't sound like it.)))

(((Maybe, But don't Cry.)))

(((Oh No, That's Very Bad For Yourself.)))

(((You Did Something Bad?, well I'm not sure.)))

her tag

sad vent -#angry vent -#sad and angry -#mahou tsukai precure -#why did he blocked me

First of all, this does not concern me. I am not responsible for all your actions. You are the one who made all these decisions on your own.

Ok, what is this nonsense?

(My Sisters And My Mother Are Feeling Sad For Me As They Notice That I Lost A Friend... .My Pet Chupacabra Had Died Because I Killed It Due For Its Rabies. )

This is just a guilt tripper,

Because your pet is just something in your imagination and not real.

The part about your sisters and your mother is just a lie and your imagination

Because when you mean your mother, you mean your imaginary mother.

and When you mean your sisters, you mean your imaginary sisters

You live in your imagination and hallucinations

That's why everyone says you should get out of the internet

And let me tell you, pretending not to know the problem isn't helping you.

I have a question

how many times megaman do he have to tell you to stop Or tell you that your actions are wrong

But of course you didn't listen to him or anyone else before him.

Everyone warned you not to continue doing what you did, but you didn't listen.

This will happen to your followers too when they discover your actions and your true nature.

Again, your problems are none of my business. This is all just a consequence of your actions.

And stop changing your blog name

I know you do this so they don't report your blog.

But of course this does not help you because I will find your blog no matter how many times you change the name of your blog

[blacktabbygames]

Even though I would be completely fine to see STP never getting updated again (don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore this game and an update would do nothing but make me extremely happy, but it does feel as complete and narratively satisfying as a "branching narrative about the complexity of human interaction and the inherently contradictory nature of people and also literally everything" game can get), if an update were to happen, my only wish is for us to be able to talk with Smitten when leaving with the princess in HEA

(Also, sidenote, HEA being the only chapter to not follow the naming convention will never not bother me just a little. Like even The Razor's extra chapters follow it, why couldn't it be "The HEA" or "The Epilogue: HEA"??? 🥺 This isn't even really a request to change it btw I just have a soft spot for stories with naming conventions Im sorry)

Like, I understand its by design, but my heart cant take not being able to comfort him or try to convince him that he can be more than a thing that only lives and exist to make someone else's happy (well, at least, his idea of happiness) and just seeing him disappear (die?) after the lights go out. My boy literally gave his own heart to somebody else because if his love feels anything other than satisfaction and endless happiness he has failed and that he needed to sacrifice his own body, only other relationships and sanity to keep that from happening, Smitten deserves at least a chance to apologize and be forgiven and be embraced and welcomed back by the voices/TLQ damned it! /exaggerating

So anyways, that is the only thing I hope comes in a possible update... and The Clown becoming a proper route, but that's more for the joke of it (literally) than a genuine desire

Smitten's gone there, man. There is no shadow without light.

[tinrange]

Recently completed Marahuyo Project after hearing it reccomended on @the-conversation-pod and found it such a lovely and empathetic look at multiple queer experiences.

But what really touched me was the depiction of Archie in the story. The story of being a "gay bully" has been discussed To Death, brought back to life, and discussed To Death Once Again. But it still holds a lot or merit for me, Archie is not simply a bystander the same way Ino is. He misgenders Venice, he berates both her and King, and even by the end he has to choose Against his own community.

But I found in his story something thats been missing in much queer media lately, something i also loved and appreciated about LITBC, and its that Archie was never under any delusion he would be accepted. He was never, both when he was openly friends with Christina and Venice and after Christinas passing, wondering if the reaction would be positive or negative. He knew and knows exactly the reaction, and he knows it will be worse for him than anyone else around, even Ino.

When ppl discuss life in the closet, especially in the context of BLs, its an internal struggle. Even when the reaction is negative, the first battle that the characters go through is mainly whether they can Handle whatever reaction they recieve. A major anxiety concern is the surprise of it all, the relief of having seen the reaction, whether it be positive or negative, is as important as what actually happens.

But Archie doesnt have that anxiety, the courage hes mustering isnt for somethong as grand as revealing himself. He is so suppressed by his environment that even the slightest diversion is enough to warrant suspicion and fear that keeps him strictly in line. King being actually assaulted is violent and terrifying, similar to when his mother cuts his hair. But nobody needs to do anything to Archie, hes choking himself and keeping himself in check.

Even when he admits it to himself that hes One Of Us while talking to Venice, it does nothing for him. In comparison to Inos declaration to King, Archies knowledge of himself is a well worn fact. One hes pored over again and again hoping to change, one he knows intimately and that wears him down from the inside. Archie is religious, he does believe and his fear is not just bred from a person seeking acceptance but a fear of retribution amplified by the loss of his friend. Religion and queerness are not irreconcilable to many, but whats hard go reconcile is the internal and external abuse held together to keep those with that experience in check. The isolation leads to a rejection of the self and an embracing of the communal, which is why queer Communities and friend groups are such vital foundational concepts. One person is not a community, and the show makes that explicitly clear through the contrast of his love and care for Venice and his community mindedness.

Venice is sure to remind him that coming out is not the only kind of courage, but both she and King are brave. They have that courage, but they also have love surrounding them. Lorie never had any real people to lose outside of Lili. Its telling that Ino is only really ready when his father is willing to be there. But Archie knows he will never have that, he believes his family because he cares about them and doesnt want to lose them, but he doesnt dream of changing their minds. He can try with all his might, but his circumstances will never change and thats a major part of his tragedy. His coming out will leave him isolated, if free, and is so reflective of an underdiscussed closet journey.

[atlasthegreatest]

A Dangerous Game / Talia Al Ghul x Male Reader

Talia is a woman of power, always in control, never vulnerable. Love is a weakness—at least, that’s what she’s been taught. But when Y/n Wu-San — her lover, defies expectations and risks everything just to be with her, she can’t deny it anymore.

Word count: 2065

Warnings: Mild angst. Forbidden love (both Talia and the reader come from rival families). Fluff.

The night air in Gotham was thick with the scent of rain yet to fall, the sky heavy with storm clouds that refused to break. The city below was restless, as it always was, but at this moment, none of it mattered. Not the League, not the mission, not the unrelenting burden of legacy.

Because he was there. And that changed everything.

Talia al Ghul stood in the dim glow of a single overhead light, the sharp gleam of her blade catching its reflection as she held it beneath Y/n’s chin. She was as composed as ever, her expression unreadable save for the barest flicker of something she had spent her entire life denying.

“You’re either incredibly foolish or incredibly in love,” she murmured, her voice as smooth as silk, as dangerous as the weapon she wielded.

A slow, knowing smile curved Y/n’s lips, despite the threat pressing against his skin. “Maybe both.”

Talia didn’t move. Didn’t waver. She had held a blade to countless throats before—traitors, enemies, men who begged, and men who bled. But none had ever looked at her the way Y/n did now. None had ever dared.

Talia had been raised to believe love was a weakness. A liability. Her father had taught her that power and control were the only things worth holding onto, that sentiment had no place in a warrior’s heart.

And yet, here he stood, defying every lesson, every warning, every instinct she had spent a lifetime sharpening like the very blade she held.

The problem wasn’t just that Y/n loved her.

The problem was that Talia couldn’t pretend she didn’t love him back.

Talia inhaled sharply, masking the hesitation before it could take form. “You risked everything coming here. Do you think that impresses me?”

Y/n tilted his head, just enough to brush his throat against the blade without breaking the skin. The challenge in his eyes was unmistakable. “No. But I think it scares you.”

For a moment, Talia said nothing.

Then, in a swift, almost imperceptible motion, she withdrew the knife and let it clatter onto the table beside her. It was an unspoken admission, a crack in the armor she had spent years perfecting.

Before Y/n could react, Talia seized his wrist and pulled him forward, her grip firm yet not unkind. Y/n barely had a moment to breathe before her lips crashed against his, a kiss that was fierce, desperate, and dangerous.

Because this was a war they could never win. And Talia knew it.

When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against Y/n’s, her breath unsteady. “You are a fool,” she whispered, her fingers tightening around the man’s wrist. “But so am I.”

Y/n chuckled and leaned in,kissing his lover passionatly.

———————-

Talia had kissed before.

She had kissed to manipulate, to disarm, to seduce men into believing they had power over her when it was always the other way around.

But this kiss—this—was something else entirely.

It wasn’t calculated. It wasn’t a means to an end. It was raw and reckless, like a fire burning too hot, too fast. Like a secret, she had kept it buried too deep for too long, only for Y/n to unearth it with a single look.

Y/n leaned into her, hands gripping the fabric of her silk robe as if afraid she might vanish. And for a moment, Talia thought about it—about walking away, about pretending this hadn’t happened, hadn’t mattered.

But then Y/n spoke.

“I don’t regret it.”

Y/n’s voice was steady, even as your breathing was uneven. Talia felt it—how much this moment meant to him, how much she meant to him. And that terrified her more than any battle, any enemy, any mission the League had ever assigned her.

She should leave. She should.

Instead, Talia exhaled, her forehead still resting against Y/n’s. “You should.”

A soft chuckle escaped from Y/n. “Should I?”

Talia finally opened her eyes, meeting Y/n’s in the dim light. There was no fear there, no hesitation. Only that maddening resolve, the same stubbornness that had led him here despite the countless warnings, despite knowing the cost.

“You’re making a mistake,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, but no less sharp.

“Maybe,” Y/n admitted, tilting his head slightly. “But it’s my mistake to make.”

Talia’s fingers tightened on Y/n’s wrist for a fraction of a second before she let go, stepping back just enough to breathe—but not enough to leave. She was still here, against her better judgment, against everything she had been taught.

“You don’t understand what you’ve done,” she finally said, the weight of her words sinking between them like a blade between ribs. “If our parents find out—”

“I knew the risks.”

“Did you?” Her gaze darkened, something dangerous flickering behind her green eyes. “Loving me doesn’t just put you in danger. It damns you.”

Y/n took a slow step forward, unshaken. “Then damn me, Talia.”

The Al Ghul inhaled sharply, her control wavering for just a second. A second too long.

Because Talia wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe there could be a world where this didn’t end in bloodshed. But Talia al Ghul had never been afforded the luxury of fantasy.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered. “There is no version of this where we win.”

Y/n reached for her hand.

The woman let him take it.

And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

Talia did not allow herself to be held. Not truly.

She had spent her life building walls, sharpening her edges into something lethal and untouchable. But as Y/n’s fingers curled around hers, steady and unyielding, she did not pull away.

That was the mistake.

Not the kiss, not the whispered admissions—this. The simple act of letting Y/n stay, of allowing herself to feel the warmth of his touch. It was a choice, a dangerous one. And she had never been a woman who made choices lightly.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, the fight in it dimming.

“Then tell me,” Y/n said, unwavering. “Tell me why you’re still standing here if this is such a mistake.”

Talia’s lips parted, but no words came. Because she should have walked away by now. She should have disappeared into the shadows like she always did, leaving behind nothing but the ghost of her presence and the inevitable consequences of her actions.

But Y/n wasn’t letting her.

And worse—she wasn’t letting herself.

Talia exhaled slowly, willing control back into her voice. “If I keep you,” she said, her grip tightening just slightly, “I will lose everything I have built.”

“I never asked you to give it up.”

“Then you do not understand what loving me means.” She finally lifted her gaze to Y/n’s, and it was sharper than the blade she had held to his throat moments ago. “If my father learns of this, you will become a target. The League does not forgive weakness. And I—” She faltered, just for a breath. “I do not know how to fight a war where you are the one in danger.”

For the first time, the weight of it was laid bare. The fear she refused to name, the vulnerability she had spent her entire life denying.

Y/n squeezed her hand gently. “Then don’t fight alone.”

Talia stared at him, something unreadable passing through her expression. A war waged within her, one she did not know how to win.

She could still end this. A single step back, a single severed tie and this would be nothing more than a foolish moment in the dark. She had done it before. She could do it again.

But she didn’t.

Instead, Talia closed the distance between them once more, her hands slipping to Y/n’s face, her touch firm yet careful—an apology, a warning, a surrender.

“If we do this,” she whispered, her breath ghosting against Y/n’s lips, “there is no turning back.”

Y/n’s answer came without hesitation.

“I was never going to.”

And when she kissed him again, it was no longer a mistake. It was a choice.

———————-

Talia had never known hesitation.

From the moment she was old enough to hold a blade, her choices had been swift, precise, without regret. She had been raised to be decisive, to see emotions as distractions, and love as a weakness that could be exploited.

But as she kissed Y/n now, her hands framing his face with an almost reverent touch, hesitation did creep in—because this wasn’t something she could take back.

There were no calculated moves here. No grand strategy, no ulterior motive.

This was real.

When she finally pulled away, her breath was uneven, her heartbeat betraying the calm façade she was desperately trying to maintain. Her fingers lingered against Y/n’s jaw as if memorizing the shape of him before the world inevitably forced her to let go.

“You should run,” she murmured. It was not a threat, nor an order. It was something dangerously close to a plea.

Y/n held her gaze, steady as ever. “You already know I won’t.”

Talia’s lips pressed into a thin line, the war within her raging louder than ever. If it were anyone else—anyone—she would have ended this already. But that man had done the impossible. Y/n had made her want. And that, more than anything, was what terrified her.

“I cannot protect you from what’s coming.”

“Then I’ll fight.”

Talia let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking her head. “You’re a fool.”

“You’ve said that before,” Y/n mused, stepping closer. “But you’re still here.”

She was.

Against every instinct, every lesson drilled into her since childhood—she was still standing before him, her hands still touching him, her heart betraying her in ways she had never allowed before.

Her father would see this as a weakness. The League would see it as a liability. But for the first time, she wondered if they were wrong.

Talia took a slow breath, then stepped away—not in retreat, but in resolve. Her gaze met Y/n’s, and there was no uncertainty left.

“If we do this, we do not hesitate,” she said, her voice like steel. “We do not look back.”

Y/n’s lips curled into a soft smile. “That was never an option, was it?”

A pause. Then, finally—

“No.”

And this time, Talia did not hesitate.

Bonus Chapter:

Talia had always known how this would end.

There was no world in which she could love Y/n and remain untouched by the consequences. No reality where she could hold him in the dark and walk away unscathed.

But knowing and accepting were two different things.

The hideout was quiet, save for the steady rhythm of Y/n’s breathing beside her. The city outside was restless, as it always was, but for now—for this moment—there was nothing but him and her.

The Al Ghul sat at the edge of the bed, half-dressed, her mind calculating a hundred different outcomes, a hundred different ways this could all go wrong.

Y/n shifted behind her, the warmth of his presence cutting through the cold thoughts creeping into her mind. “You’re thinking too much.”

A soft scoff was heard. “I always think.”

The man sat up, arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her back against him. Talia stiffened at first, but only for a second. The old instincts, the reflex to pull away—it was getting weaker.

“You know,” Y/n murmured, resting his chin on her shoulder, “for someone who claims to have no weaknesses, you let me get pretty close.”

Talia smirked, tilting her head just enough to brush her lips against Y/n’s temple. “You mistake my tolerance for generosity.”

Y/n chuckled, and she hated how much she liked the sound. How much she had grown to crave it.

“You keep telling me this is dangerous,” he said softly. “That we can’t win.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Maybe. But I think you’re afraid that we can.”

Talia turned then, just enough to face him, her expression unreadable. “And if I am?”

Y/n’s fingers traced along her wrist, slow and deliberate. “Then it’s already too late, isn’t it?”

Talia exhaled, barely a whisper, and for once—just once—she let herself admit the truth.

“Yes.”

And instead of feeling like she had lost something, for the first time in her life, she felt like she had won.

[fuckzachariah]

Zach’s eyes tracked her movements as though locked onto a target; the run of her hands over her hourglass frame, the tilt of her face as she gazed on at Kylie. Her face changed, and Zach was struck by the alienness of the look. This version of Alex that Kylie unwittingly received, Zach had never been the recipient of. And he never would be. The dark-haired seraph was removed and appreciative, calculated and intentional. A throb of something like guilt or maybe even a thrill clenched its fist around the base of his throat. The danger he was toying with was too great to truly fathom. It expanded beyond his eyeline so as to be entirely obscured from comprehension at all. He liked it this way. This way, he got to hone in on the details, to luxuriate in them and feel the way his pulse got faster from them; the curve in her brow, the simmering smug smirk on her lips. Briefly, his attention wandered to see what she saw. Those bouncing curls, the laugh that travelled any distance. He cocked his head curiously, seeing her in that moment as something entirely separate from himself. Blonde, beautiful, petite. He recognized these things as Alex listed them, and she was correct, they were a draw. But many women ticked such boxes. There was something else, something intrinsic…

Alex withdrew him from his thoughts with a quip. He laughed, quietly and contained, but in earnest. "Oh, no. Not everyone is that fucking ballsy. Or stupid," his mischief glimmered. The day she had launched that wine bottle across the room at him had been the same day he had first lost his fucking mind. Truly, honestly abandoned all his senses. It had been bloody and awful and left scars that lingered to this day. But… he couldn't deny he missed something about it. The fervor. Nothing had made him so mad since. He had never felt so much, all at once, since the day they had walked away from each other. For better or for worse. He wondered if she pined after it, too. The all-consumption. The feeling of being lit on fire. “Not yet, anyway,” Zach muttered. “But there’s always room for improvement.” He needled at the plush, unpunctured balloon of their tryst. Something could surely make Kylie snap. He didn’t doubt Alex could well be that something. His dimpled tongue rolled behind his teeth, pushed up against the clamped porcelain. 

The exact opposite of me. His attention snapped to her, subtle but sharp, and for a moment he said nothing as he trod around upon the question of her sincerity. How she truly felt about what she’d uttered. Because it was true. It was the very crux of what had made him cave – determination to banish Alex from his mind, after a year of being haunted, of waking up from his dreams shaking and aching... – that Kylie was her opposite. What better to rinse him of her memory than someone who was nothing like her? Zach wondered if Alex understood the absolute intention of that decision for him – but then she confessed, to a degree, that she had done the same in choosing Andrew. Zach sort-of smiled, ruminating on the irony of it all. “Running a million fucking miles from each other,” he mused with a cruel laugh. Then he eyed her. “Or maybe just 3,000,” he slipped, thinking of her Manhattan penthouse. Alex met his eyes keenly. His eyebrow raised expectantly. An energy thrummed between them, almost visible as it throbbed against the atmosphere.

Aubrey. Zach laughed, sudden and a little rude. They still ran into each other on occasion. She moved in any circle that allowed her to indulge in total debauchery; in sex and hard drugs and four-day benders, in drama and violence and frenemies. Zach’s previous unwillingness to banish her entirely had always been his proximity to these same things – or rather, his dependence on them. She was, like certain drugs, not his preferred vice but a reliable one to numb whatever needed numbing. Though on the surface it appeared she was determined never to change, never to grow, Zach knew there had been a shift in her since the days they'd been close. He knew this because when the time had come, she had let him go without leaving claw marks. Her presence would always be a reason for him to go back under, and he couldn’t go back under again. She knew it. The goodbye had been silent. However, when it came to Alex, with the clarity granted by distance he understood the lingering disdain. She may have forgotten her name for a moment, but she hadn’t forgotten the feeling. 

“That’s funny,” Zach chimed. A lone dimple materialized upon his cheek. “If you were to ask me then, or now, I’d always say my real weakness is redheads.” As though Alex as she was now couldn’t bury him if she so wished. It was easier to pretend she only had that kind of power over him in the past-tense. He felt a distinct pang, a sudden urge, to push his fingers into her hair. He smiled, biting down on his tongue inside his mouth. “I’d say your thing must be fat wallets, but to be honest, I don’t think any man without the bank account to spoil you would waste their time on the approach.” He smirked. “You look like you cost a lot of money to win over.” It wasn’t an insult, though maybe it sounded like one. He chuckled. “Oh, tell me, did your first date with Andrew out-do ours?” Ours. His tongue got a little stuck on the word. But before she could get more than half-way through her response, a tall, incorrigible presence encroached upon their conversation, strapped with a vexing confidence.

Luke hadn’t even said a word before Zach popped up from his relaxed slouch upon the bar, alert like a guard dog, ready to bite. “Lovebirds,” he slurred, eyes drooping with hard liquor and whatever else. It wasn’t uppers. What shit was he on now – opioids? Zach kind of laughed, which visibly irritated Luke. “What’s funny?” he assailed, though it was sluggish. “Is it that I could blow up both your spots in 5 seconds, if I wanted to? Or an inside joke? Tell me the joke, Zach.” Zach’s teeth ground together as he breathed out through his nose. Not angry, not yet. Not raging. But bubbling. Luke, in response to his silence, turned his eyes to the petite brunette at his side. “Alex? Come on,” he goaded. The contents of his drink sloshed over his glass as it thrust toward her, narrowly missing her dress. Zach took a subtle step forward. “Let me in on the joke. For old time’s sake.” Zach shook his head, simmering down from irritation to something sadder. His face screwed delicately as though having smelled a foul smell, overrun with the sensation that he was watching something truly pathetic unfold. “Christ, Luke,” he began to dismiss, hand searching for Alex’s elbow in preparation. At any given moment, he suspected they may have to flee the scene. “You’re a fuckin’ joke.”

Alex slipped effortlessly back into her position at the bar, poised and balanced atop her towering designer platforms. Even with the added height, Zach still loomed over her, his presence inescapable. She glanced up at him, one perfectly arched brow lifting in silent amusement —Really? Her hands smoothed over the crushed velvet of her Dolce & Gabbana dress, fingertips cascading over the soft curves of her hips, an absentminded gesture. She exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting across the room, where Kylie stood swathed in warm light, radiant and effortless. “Well, let’s see,” she murmured, her voice smooth as silk. Her dark eyes traced the contours of Kylie’s petite frame, admiring her the way one might admire a perfectly crafted porcelain doll. Delicate, pristine, untouchable.

“Blonde. Beautiful. Petite. And,” she added, lips beginning to curve upward, “she’s unlikely to hurl a bottle of wine past your head.” A smirk danced across her features as she allowed the thought to linger. She wondered about their arguments, if they even had them. Did they disagree in soft voices, resolving their issues with careful words and understanding? Or did Zach ever lose himself in his anger, his temper simmering just beneath the surface, just waiting to be unleashed? And when they made up, was it tender? Slow and sweet, their bodies tangled in silk sheets, whispering apologies between kisses? Barf. Zach and Alex had never been that kind of couple. Maturity was not their strong suit. Passion? Destruction? That, they had mastered.

She had always loved the thrill of walking away in the heat of an argument. The power of leaving him stewing in his own frustration, slamming a door in his face, locking him out of a room, her home, her life. She relished the chaos of it, the way he’d flood her phone with missed calls and unread messages, relentless in his pursuit of resolution or revenge. And when she finally decided to answer, the fight would pick up right where it left off, voices low and venomous, each word another carefully aimed dagger. If they happened to be together, the tension could snap in an instant, turning volatile depending on what toxins had been swimming in their bloodstreams that night. But God, the way it always ended.

Every argument, every shattered glass, every tear-streaked accusation led them back to the same place. Back to each other. Their bodies colliding with the same reckless force as their words, a feverish entanglement of desperation and desire. It was raw. Consuming. Addictive. And in the afterglow, skin damp, breaths still ragged, fingers lazily tracing the aftermath of their mayhem, they’d forget why they were even fighting to begin with. It was unhealthy. Toxic. Damn near lethal. And yet, it was the best she had ever known. Nothing had ever come close since. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recreate it, couldn’t mimic that electric pull, that madness that somehow made perfect sense in its destruction. She wondered if he thought the same.

“The exact opposite of me,” she declared suddenly, the words spilling from her lips, bold and unfiltered. The espresso martinis had begun their work, loosening her tongue, unraveling the tightly wound threads of her self-restraint. She lifted her hands in mock surrender, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. “And I’m not one to judge. Clearly, I took a turn in the opposite direction as well.” Laughter bubbled up from deep in her chest. She allowed the silence to stretch for a moment, as if waiting for him to argue or challenge her. “Well, I suppose he does fit my track record,” Alex mused, tilting her head slightly. Her gaze flickered back to Zach, sharp and assuming. “You, on the other hand. I didn’t realize you liked blondes that much.”

She paused, her mind sifting through the catalog of names and faces, searching for the right one. Her hand lifted, fingers twirling absently in the air as if trying to pluck the memory from thin air. “Except for…” Her lips pursed, the name eluding her. With a sudden spark of recollection, her eyes lit up. “Aubrey,” she announced, “but that’s a different story.” Oh, Aubrey. Alex wondered how she was these days, if the patch of hair on her head had ever grown back after Alex had so graciously removed her extensions. Of course, there was also Tasha, the one who had always prowled too close, hell-bent on sinking her teeth into Zach. Maybe she had finally accomplished her mission. “Good times,” she drawled sarcastically. With a quiet chuckle, she let her hand rest comfortably against her stomach, her fingers idly tracing invisible patterns over her dress.

[fore-seer]

[todayisafridaynight]

[mishy-mashy]

I said this in a whole reblog, but just copy-pasting to a separate post because I think it'll give some reading comprehension and reblogs don't show up in the search feature.. again, I'm reiterating what I said in another post.

Go check out @demidokuriya 's post for this; OP's post made me put this all down in like. 20 minutes. Mind went vroom vroom cuz HEY THEY'RE ONTO SOMETHING.

(They also reblogged the post with some hint to some behind the scenes of what led to the ideas if you wanna check that out)

Look below at how, when Mineta told AFO to spare Tokoyami, AFO specifically went "..."

He remembers Jirou and thinks, The braying howls of the weak...

He was going to take Tokoyami's Quirk. He took Hawks'. But after Mineta pleaded with him, AFO just straight-up left and didn't take anyone else's Quirk.

AFO saw Yoichi in Mineta.

These scenes are near-identical to each other.

Mineta and Yoichi (at that time) are both much smaller than the normal person at their age

They're both hurt, yet dragged themselves up from the ground to throw something at AFO, to get his attention and make their voice

Both are considered weak, even if they have a Quirk (Mineta's Pop-Off and Yoichi's undeveloped Factor)

The fact that Yoichi got AFO's attention here by throwing a can at him, while Mineta got his attention by throwing a Pop-Off ball; and it stuck.

Mineta's call for his attention landed and actually stuck to AFO. This is unlike when Yoichi and his can bounced off, and AFO kicked him, not listening to him; AFO listened to Mineta and left Tokoyami alone, technically doing what Mineta wanted—to not hurt this person.

AFO just went on to hurt more people away from Mineta's [Yoichi's] eyes so the small weakling wouldn't see.

Yoichi and Mineta both cried to AFO to not hurt in his ways, when AFO was intent on stealing people's Quirks

AFO even stole Hawks' Quirk during this time.

He had time to steal Hawks' Quirk, and though he could've tossed him to the side, he let Hawks stand in his way.

He had the energy. Right after this event, he flew off and left the scene. But he didn't go for Tokoyami immediately.

And this let Mineta play his part, and remind AFO of Yoichi.

"A putrid, festering Quirk Factor."

That sounds like Yoichi, AFO.

".. such garbage."

Hey hey hey, what did Yoichi throw at him when they were kids?

A discarded can. Garbage.

This chapter (385) where AFO listens to Mineta is literally called [A Youthful Urge].

Mineta told AFO to take his Pop-Off (hurt him) instead. But last time, AFO hurt Yoichi by kicking him; this time, AFO not only listened to Mineta to not hurt Tokoyami, but didn't touch Mineta at all.

Even though this time, Mineta [Yoichi] offered to take that place of suffering.

Yoichi didn't do that back then. AFO just turned on little Yoichi anyway.

Yoichi through his whole existence is literally [the braying howls of the weak]. AFO acknowledges he's weak and idealistic, yet he still loves him.

Side note about this panel, I think it's interesting that in this vision, this was the first time we saw Yoichi's eyes: when he was being defiant, despite being pushed down by someone much stronger than him.

Really characteristic of him, honestly. Yoichi's soft-spoken and frail, but it's always reiterated that Yoichi had a powerful will against his stronger big brother.

Mineta at this moment reminded him too much of Yoichi, because the two scenes are near-identical to each other. Parallels, really.

Reiterating something from OP's post that I reblogged this from;

"The reminder of his brother made him uncomfortable, so he hurried away."

AFO didn't want to hurt Yoichi again.