#thank you for creating this 🛐

[books4evermorr]

Not going down the gender questioning route because “he finally becomes comfortable in his own skin” has me in tears 🥹💗

Like yes that was exactly what I meant when I was like him not going down that route will be nice too because as chronos said — he is perfect just the way he is 🥺

(also him being in the completely dissociated ok if you say so mode is literally me 24/7)

“Surely my liege can work his magic in that timeline to atleast reach a dating status with Nico lol” <- screaming this is exactly what I wanted to know.

And no it’s actually super nice that they are in the dating phase but haven’t kissed yet, cause like I am so soft for dating but being super mindful of boundaries. Like the tension??!! I live for it, the only thing keeping me alive are my favourite ships in a slow burn fic. It’s everything but mostly because they are dating so they show their love and affection in other ways, the hand holding, knuckle kisses(!!!???), hugs, like every single thing and gesture that is a small ily is somehow so much more meaningful than a kiss ever could be???

@avaetin

Had some questions (wanted to know some very specific unnecessarily detailed things) about the AU

•I need to know what is going on in Hades mind watching two primordials discuss his son with so much reverence lol

•Also I was wondering if maybe you are gonna go down the questioning-his-gender route for Nico? Like with all that Mother thing, and the switching between pronouns when talking about Ananke and then talking about him. Especially because his immediate reaction wasn’t discomfort when being called Mother or being referred to with she/her pronouns and even when khaos was like we can change his anatomy, instead of being uncomfortable by that he was only like actually that’s not the biggest problem 🤓☝️(loved that btw)

Like maybe not trans but more like gender fluid/ gender non conforming? Fits in with the can’t bound such powerful beings by the concept of gender thing.

Would love to know what you think. But him not going that path will be nice too and I practically melted when chronos said that he is perfect just the way he is 😭😭😭

•I have also been wondering is Leo alive?? Because the seven are going and annabeth is replaced by alabaster, does that mean Leo comes along too? I mean technically it’s a tsats plot rewrite so if the timeline is same that means he will be there. But he will show up later. So do they believe he is dead rn? Did he see this Nico is Ananke situation? As in is he in throne room rn? Or he is gonna come back later and would get a rundown and then proceed to make corny jokes? If he comes back later is calypso with him? What does she think about this because she is older than the gods right? And like does she choose to not accompany them to Tartarus or is there like laws and reasons stopping her or something? Also idk is caleo gonna be a ship or do they break up?

•Also the Apollo getting punished thing, I know Jason was stopped from dying because chronos, but do we get a time skip to directly the tsats part? Then what about Nico’s involvement in the last book? How does chronos feel towards Apollo (cause he has a crush on Nico lol) ? But more importantly how does he feel about his beloved befriending the Trogs (🥹) ? And also since time would have passed, there dynamic changed too? Like before they get the prophecy (do they still get one?) when nico hears the voices, chronos is defo there, so will we get a after-a-nightmare scene 😭 ?? Is Nico like comparatively at ease around him before they even head towards Tartarus? I am pretty sure you already have this figured out but I was still curious lol

This kind of got long 😅

Take all the time you need answering :))

And also if any of these lead to potential spoilers feel free to not answer them!! More than happy to wait and see things unfold

[meo-eiru]

silas is so damn pretty. i'd immediately fold if i met him irl. thanks so much for creating him🛐 he is so precious💘❤️💖 i've got a question btw... so does he sing the human lullaby during night? do we get to cuddle him? ahhhh

Thank you he is indeed very precious!

You can kiss sleeping alone goodbye once Silas gets his hand on you. You’ll constantly have a giant elf with big tiddies hugging you tightly through the night no matter how hot or cold ghe weather is.

He does sing you lullabies but usually the words are quite mixed up and half of the song is just humming because he has a hard time remembering the whole thing. Sometimes he also just talks your ear off until you fall asleep

Unfortunately with him you don’t really get to stay up for too long, when he says sleep time it’s sleep time because staying up late isn’t healthy for you and he can’t risk you getting sick or something. But it’s ok! You get to be glued to him and you do fall asleep isn’t it fun :)

[siriusly-parker]

nun!reader x cult leader!suguru geto

I can’t stop thinking about nun!reader x cult leader!geto 😫😫 idk i just want stories about that dynamic so baaaaad 😭🙏 (if you do get inspired to write your own, plz credit me for the au!)

i just need to get some of it out of my chest so i can finally continue my homework 😭 so this was written FAST and it’s not much, but it’s a start. maybe i can make this a au! with other stories? plz plz plz fill my asks with requests and your own little cult leader!getou x nun!reader fantasies 🛐 plz and thank you 🛐

cult leader!geto who praises you for being such a devoted follower.

nun!reader who wants nothing but to be a good enough disciple for master geto to notice.

nun!reader worshipping the ground he walks on.

cult leader!geto who knows that and uses it to his advantage.

nun!reader who begs her leader for forgiveness whenever she does anything remotely imperfect.

cult leader!geto who gets weirdly turned on by her tears. maybe it was from knowing he had so much power over her. how much she trusted and worshipped him. how he practically owned her…

cult leader!geto who shuts down any rumors and reprimands other nuns for talking behind your back and insinuating favouritism (though there definitely was).

nun!reader who constantly gets down on her knees for cult leader!getou, without knowing the true effect it has on him.

cult leader!geto who creates alternate passages and spots for you to explore in the convent and kill time during the long and mostly boring days.

nun!reader who gets confused when places she has been to before seem to disappear, but gets overwhelmingly excited when she discovers new ones.

nun!reader who spends her days exploring and roaming instead of praying, not knowing geto is always watching.

nun!reader who feels guilty and spends the night overpraying to the strongest cursed spirits.

cult leader!geto who smirks as he listens to her worshiping and begging.

cult leader!geto who kills and destroys without a second thought, but holds a soft spot for you, his favourite girl.

[rapturously]

Can I ask for a Vincent Sinclair smut PLZZZ🛐🛐 (I love him sm)

redamancy.

➾ pairing ; vincent sinclair x fem!reader.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 4.4K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), fingering (f!receiving), dry humping, p in v sex (unprotected), multiple positions, breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, making out, scratching, rough sex, slight breeding kink, vincent is pretty obsessive/possessive, darker vincent, choking

author’s note: I haven’t written for vincent in a hot minute but boy, this was a perfect way to get back into it! I plan on writing another bo/reader/vincent thing at some point and more bo/reader. Trying to ease myself back into all of this! Thank you all so much for your love and support!

Hot pearls of pale wax trickled from the numerous candles littered throughout the basement, basked within an orange glow. It only served to add to the warmth of the underbelly of the House of Wax, temperatures maintained to prevent any form of melting. Vincent had learned to temper it all over time — control the heat, master the atmosphere.

A silver scalpel idly shaped a column of wax, something that would soon join the displays up above. His movements were methodical, purposeful — he was a perfectionist. Every stroke had to mean something, appear flawless and without any imperfections.

He’d been making up for imperfections all his life — even still, Vincent was continuing to work himself ragged, to further his mother’s work. Perhaps, someday, it would make him more worthy in her eyes.

Footsteps reverberated throughout his underground mausoleum of wax, and he knew that it was you. Bo rarely, if ever, came downstairs, and his gait was often far more purposeful and aggressive than yours could ever be. He was hunched over his desk, guiding the flickering flame toward the wax, letting it melt and bend.

Vincent carefully began to mold the wax, shape it to whatever he pleased. It was a statuette, meant to resemble that of a serpent. Using the edge of the scalpel, he quickly carved in intricate designs as the surface began to cool, brushing off any excess with the pad of his thumb.

You quietly crept through the basement, making your way toward Vincent’s coiled frame, perched within his rickety chair. You always enjoyed watching him work — his artistic talent was mesmerizing to behold. With a light shrug, you tugged your robe around you, feet absorbing the warmth from the concrete floor.

It was common for him to wake up sometime in the night, leaving the space beside you to work. Sometimes, it was the only thing that could quell the raging thoughts inside of him, or the one activity that took his mind off of everything. Vincent could think of other activities to distract himself, but you needed to agree to it, too.

The cold dusk of Louisiana couldn’t reach either of you — not here, not in the warmth of the basement. It was akin to a sanctuary for you, this wax cathedral built to destroy and to create anew. There was something so fascinating about this place, something hauntingly beautiful and macabre all rolled into one.

“Hey,” You murmured, lazily rubbing at the back of your neck. His shirt clumsily hung from your frame, the robe haphazardly tossed over the garment. Vincent regarded you with a tender look in his eye, countenance shrouded by that familiar waxy veil. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Vincent shook his head, dark tresses idly brushing across the back of the woolen sweater he wore. You were often amazed at his heat tolerance, wearing thicker garments in a sweltering basement. He turned slightly within his seat, an open invitation for you to come and inspect his work.

There was a point in time where he had little desire for you to see any of his projects, but that sentiment had drastically changed. Vincent valued your admiration above all else. He turned the partially-finished serpent over, noticing your look of recognition and delight.

“That’s a basilisk, isn’t it? It’s beautiful so far.” You gently traced your index finger along some of the scales Vincent had carved into the surface. The initial grogginess of slumber was beginning to wear off as you stood at his side, gaze flickering toward the assortment of art tools, wax, and glowing candles.

“It’s for you.” Vincent’s hands moved sluggishly as he signed, feeling your fingertips grace his shoulder, nails idly raking across his back. He shivered, enjoying the light sensation of your touch, knowing that it was bound to contort and twist into a different sort of feeling.

Your lips curled into a smitten smile, teeth absentmindedly toying with your lower lip. “For me? Are you sure?” It belonged in the House of Wax, amongst all of his other sculptures and pieces of art. However, you weren’t about to stop him from his sentimental gesture. You loved everything he’d made for you.

With a brief nod, Vincent placed the statuette back down onto the debris-laden desk, swiping at a fine layer of wax flecks with his hand. Along the mantle situated above his workbench, you noticed a weathered photograph, partially obscured by a series of half-destroyed wax masks that he’d worn at one point or another.

Admittedly, you hadn’t seen the picture before — and you had memorized every square inch of this place by now. “Hey,” You motioned toward it, pointing at the obstructed photograph with visible intrigue. “What’s that?” You inquired, head cocking to one side.

Vincent’s jaw tightened, posture becoming somewhat stiff and rigid as he deliberately removed the picture from behind the masks. He’d forgotten all about it until you pointed it out — a sliver of him wondered why he’d even kept it at all. He cradled the tattered, dusty photograph within one hand, brows furrowing together.

It was Trudy Sinclair, forever immortalized within one still image, holding a very young Vincent, whose countenance was indistinguishable — marred and torn from his conjoined state with Bo. Her expression was arguably the kindest it had ever been, gazing down upon the near-infant Vincent with a look of fondness.

Even through the faded granules of color, you were able to make out the affection she held for him. Your heart clenched within your chest, primarily out of empathy for Vincent himself. Despite all his talent and efforts to regain some favor in his mother’s eyes, part of her would always see him as some disfigured freak, doomed to be trapped behind that wax mask.

Wordlessly, Vincent offered you the photograph, letting you inspect it for yourself. You treated the object like a priceless relic, gently turning it over within your hands. It pained you to know the fate that had inevitably befallen the Sinclairs — locked within a household filled with vitriol and parents whose passions often overrode any love they might’ve had for their children.

“This is Trudy, isn’t it?” You uttered, watching as Vincent’s head bobbed up and down in a stoic nod. Bo had received the short end of the stick when it came to Trudy’s love, but things were far from perfect with Vincent, too. “I’m sorry, Vincent.” Your voice barely drifted above a whisper, lips curling into a sympathetic frown.

His shoulders sagged in a gentle shrug, taking the photograph from you before placing it behind a cluster of half-burnt candles. “Nothing to be sorry for. You can’t change the past.” Vincent signed, concentration turning to you, instead.

He’d spent most of his life wishing that he could change his tumultuous childhood — he’d stopped long ago. He and his brothers would always be chained to Trudy, and there would always be a certain level of loyalty to her, even in death.

“I understand, Vincent.” With a soft murmur, you gently rubbed at the back of your neck, trailing your fingers across his spine. “Come back to bed with me?” You asked, head canting to one side. Vincent reached for your wrist, gingerly cradling it between his fingers, stroking along your forearm.

He wasn’t tired, but Vincent didn’t want to leave you alone, either. He moved up from his chair, lean musculature towering above you as he kept hold of your wrist, fingers drifting to twine around your hand. The two of you retreated into the alcove that served as his bedroom, if one could call it that.

The mattress was littered in blankets, indents visible from where the two of you slept. He’d fixed it up with doors that folded shut, similar to that of a closet. You settled back down, Vincent right beside you as he tugged you close, letting you lounge against his chest.

You sat up just a little bit, enough to see his masked countenance. “Could I ask you something?” Your voice was nothing more than a tender whisper, and now that you were awake, a string of thoughts began to nag at the back of your head. Pillowtalk with Vincent often became very emotionally-charged.

“Anything.” Vincent nodded as his hands moved, propping himself up enough to look at you, too. He had told you about his life some time ago — the intricate details and his own sentiments on the matter were left out and simply implied. You were a precocious and inquisitive individual, but above all, you were empathetic.

“This,” With a feather-light caress, you traced your finger along the cheekbone of his mask. “Why do you still wear it around me?” Your inquiry was innocuous, spoken out of genuine concern instead of malice or confusion. Vincent had shown you his face once before — and it never bothered you. It wouldn’t bother you.

Vincent’s throat became tight, jaw unusually tense as he attempted to muster up a feasible answer. It was an anchor for him — one way to feel less like a monster and a freak. “Habit,” He signed, but he knew better than to give you a false response. “I don’t want you to feel guilty or pity me.”

Your brows furrowed together, visage contorting with a look of mild confusion. “What do you mean, Vince?” You wondered if you’d done something wrong, stomach swelling with a wave of anxiety, but he seemed to catch this. He pressed a finger against your lips before he began to sign in a flurry of animated hands.

“I don’t want you to pity me for how I look. I’ve spent my entire life being looked at like a freak — like something fragile, something to feel sorry for.” Vincent finished with finality to it, hoping that you would understand why he continued to wear the mask. He knew that you still loved him, regardless of how he appeared.

“No, no,” You uttered, sitting up enough to stare at him, hands gently splayed across his taut chest. “When I saw your face, that night in the kitchen — the only thing that I saw was a survivor.” His eye sparkled whenever you spoke, hanging upon your every word. “You’re resilient and you’re talented, Vincent. You’ve never been a freak.”

It was the first time in his life that someone labeled him as a survivor — he hadn’t thought of it like that.

Most of his life had been about preservation — keeping the Sinclair name alive, to continue his mother’s dream, keeping Bo and Lester safe. Vincent hadn’t considered that his face was also a sign of resilience, of an endurance that even he wasn’t fully aware of.

You felt his hand reach for you, cupping your jaw with calloused, roughened digits, the practiced hands of an artist. His touch was filled with both adoration and a dark yearning, thumb sweeping over your lower lip. “You mean everything to me.” He signed, and you knew that he meant it wholeheartedly.

“You mean everything to me, too.” You murmured, careening into the warmth of his embrace, lips pursing to kiss the pad of his thumb. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.” A breathy, passionate sigh left you when he coaxed you closer, slotted against his musculature.

His hawkish eye picked you apart from where you sat, the distance slim between the two of you. You were vaguely aware of his obsession with you, disguised as protectiveness and adoration — Vincent often made it explicitly clear that you belonged to him, drew a line in the sand with Bo over and over again.

As you lavished him in kind, tenderhearted words, Vincent’s innate possessiveness over you seemed to flare to life, malignant and very much alive. You were tethered to him until the end of time — a pretty, iron-wrought cage, inescapable — and admittedly, you didn’t want to be free from it at all. You stopped thinking that way a long time ago.

Vincent exhaled, dragging his hand across the slender expanse of your neck, digits exploring the canvas that was your flesh — all belonging to him. “You’re mine.” He signed, staking his claim for the hundredth time. Even through signing alone, his nature was desirous and rapacious.

Long before he’d entered this relationship with you, he was very indifferent towards you. It stemmed from insecurities, from rage, and from confusion — girls were always Bo’s forte and never his. Having you, something to covet, something to protect and to keep, Vincent was always worried that he’d lose it.

You nodded, breath hitching within your throat when he traced the pad of his thumb across your pulse point. Your heartbeat had climbed to erratic, excitable heights, mouth somewhat dry as he applied pressure underneath either side of your jaw.

“I’m yours.” Parasitic — you leached from him, and it always took your loneliness away. You used to hate him for taking away your friends, but it almost felt like a wandering dream that didn’t feel real. Ambrose was where you were meant to be — meant to be with Vincent. You empathized with him, surrounding him with your affection and comfort.

A rugged huff emerged from the depths of his throat, feeling you climb closer, gaze glazed-over with desire. Wordlessly, Vincent removed his mask, placing the waxy veil aside as his mouth clamored for yours. The kiss was blistering, full of a rather oppressive possession and greed — he felt entitled to you, in some depraved sense.

Reciprocation made him giddy as your lips eagerly pressed against his, responding with a desperation that nearly bordered his own. Vincent squeezed your jaw, other hand relocating to slip underneath the baggy shirt you wore, brazenly groping at your breasts.

Your fingers scraped through his hair, digging into the base of his skull as he coaxed you down against the mattress. Vincent crawled on top of you, mouth briefly disconnecting from yours before he crashed back into you, parting your legs with his knee.

A low, raspy grunt escaped him when your lips continued their relentless assault, mouth parting to allow for a sloppy kiss. He was needy, desperate to feel you as he rucked your shirt up with one hand, fingertips tracing across the plane of your stomach. Goosebumps coalesced along your spine, arousal pooling between your thighs.

Heat blistered between the both of you, an amalgamation of desire, want, and the emotion of your charged conversation moments prior. Vincent savored it all — it still didn’t feel real sometimes, being physical with you. Some time ago, he felt unworthy, too horrid and too scarred, but you changed everything.

You changed the way he touched you — no longer hesitant or wrought with deliberation. He felt like a god, capable of conquering anything — even you. Instead, each touch was charged with lust, and the sensation was beyond mutual as you slipped a hand underneath his sweater.

Vincent was made of taut, sinewy muscle, littered in plenty of scars. His broad shoulders tensed when your hand pressed into the nape of his neck, toying with the collar of his sweater. In one fluid motion, he lifted it up and over his head, discarding it toward the foot of the bed.

He lifted two digits toward his lips, pressing them upon his tongue as he coated them in saliva. Vincent’s eye glistened with a ravenous sheen, fingers drifting toward the warmth between your legs. He brusquely shoved your panties aside, dragging those fingers along your slit, peppering your jaw in kisses.

“Vincent,” You moaned, feeling him cage you against him, arm bracketing you in, keeping you for himself. It was explosive — everything felt hot, as if the both of you were running out of time. “Touch me.” Your voice was high-pitched with a sense of urgency.

Your hips jolted forward, chasing after the friction his digits provided, feeling his mouth press hot kisses against your sternum. He branded you with his embrace, hoping to make it permanent — a mark, something that bound you to him. His lips sought to take one of your pert nipples into his mouth, suckling on the sensitive bud.

At last, he gave into your breathy demands, slotting his thumb against your clit as his middle fingers explored your cunt. An elated sigh escaped you, knees squeezing at his waist, hands splayed across his shoulders. He looked immaculate beneath orange candlelight — a deity of wax, perfection immortalized.

A ripple of bliss consumed you, body keening and arching into Vincent’s touch. His fingers lightly traced your core before dipping inward, forcing his way inside of you, feeling your cunt clench pathetically around his practiced digits. He lavished your breasts in a flurry of attention, throat echoing with a hoarse grunt.

Scars were crisscrossing all over his body, remnants of his victims that left their mark. Bullets, stab wounds, the diagonal, uneven slashes of knives and sharp objects. His skin served as a canvas for chaos, and you traced your fingertips over a livid mark on his chest.

Vincent shuddered, rutting his fingers inside of you before withdrawing halfway, finding a steady rhythm to piston in and out of your aching heat. He kissed his way back to your mouth, lips crashing into one another as he pressed against you. You could feel his erection snug along your thigh, prompting you to squirm.

You needed him terribly, unable to vocalize that want unless it was through a mess of needy moans. With a gentle shove, your lips tangled with his, tugging on his mane of dark tresses. Vincent huffed, digits curling into your cunt, eliciting a simpering cry from you.

He watched you through a lustful stare, glazed-over with rapture, drunk with desire. Vincent kissed at your throat, teeth teasing your flesh, feeling you roll your hips into the sensation of his hand. “Need you inside of me,” Your voice emerged as a hungry groan, clawing at the muscle of his shoulder. “Please, Vincent.”

Admittedly, he hadn’t seen you quite like this before — tangled up within your own need, aching for him in ways you hadn’t felt before. Vincent was delighted to oblige you, feeding off of your desire like a leech.

“How?” Vincent signed, and that singular word seemed to set off some chain reaction. Your stomach sloshed with anticipation as you rolled over onto your abdomen, able to hear the audible hitch in his throat, a raspy grunt tearing past his lips.

Vincent slipped his fingers from your cunt, digits coated in a thin sheen of your arousal. He grabbed at your hips, chest reverberating with a low rumble as he tugged you back against him. The metallic rattling of his belt sent shivers down your spine, able to feel the heat of his cock press against your slit.

“Vincent,” You moaned, and that was enough to get his blood pumping, accompanied by a surge of adrenaline as he let the head of his length slide through your slick a time or two. A soft yelp tore past your lips when he pushed himself inside of you, hunched over you, flesh feverishly warm.

A hand gently held the back of your neck, thumb grazing over the slender muscle of your jugular. His face was buried near your shoulder, tresses sweeping across your exposed back, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He filled you in a way that you never thought possible, causing you to whimper.

With a sharp thrust, Vincent began to invade your cunt, somewhere between tender and rough. He was always sporadic and unsure when it came to pace, but you thoroughly enjoyed the unpredictability. His cock lewdly slapped into your cunt, followed by the sound of his ragged breathing.

Wax-laden palms skirted across your body, one hand grappling at your hips while the other gathered at the nape of your neck. You huffed, face partially pressed into the mattress, body contorting and submitting to him as you had many times before.

You were perfect — his paramour, his muse.

A twisted desire began to wash over him like a tidal wave, borderline insidious as he rutted into you. Vincent’s love might’ve been perceived as sweet on the surface, yet it often veered off into a very vitriolic obsession. He wanted you all to himself, as much as humanly possible.

Vincent’s grunts resonated just beside your ear, full of a lustful fervor. Every inch of him was consumed by your cunt, tight around him as he continued to fuck you. It was hot and messy, his pace sometimes scattered and erratic, as if he didn’t know what rhythm to adopt.

He brought you back against him, caging your back to his chest as he rocked onto his knees. Taut, muscled biceps locked around you as he pistoned into you, cock reaching new depths until he couldn’t go any further. Vincent’s mouth clamored to your neck, kissing and biting wherever he pleased as he kept you snug against him.

“V—Vincent, shit,” You stammered, the newfound position taking you by complete surprise. A sensation of sheer want flooded through you, coupled with overwhelming arousal. He filled you completely, flesh dewy with a layer of perspiration, black strands stuck to his temples from exertion. “Please cum in me.”

Another hoarse, throaty grunt ripped through him, hands relocating as one palm groped at your soft, pliant breasts. The other had a mind of its own, snaking to the cleft between your thighs as he toyed with your clit. Euphoria gripped you then and there, causing you to squirm and writhe with pleasure.

Again, Vincent locked you in against his chest, huffing into your ear, biting at your jaw as he filled you up. Part of him wanted to devour you, but the added heat and friction, the swiftness of the moment was enough to make him exert all force.

If he could, he would’ve gladly drowned himself in you, let himself float away within your very presence. Even covered in a veil of sweat, your scent was saccharine, accompanied by his own musk from the cling of his clothing.

Vincent felt you reach for his hand, digits curling around his wrist as he played with your clit, hoping to get you to your peak, right alongside him. His palm wandered from the plump flesh of your chest toward your throat, wrapping around until he applied pressure along your windpipe.

Within the stifling warmth of the basement, the only sounds that reverberated throughout were your moans and his occasional grunt. Vincent’s breathing was heavy, chest heaving against your back. You moved with him as best as you could, nails digging crescents into the taut tendons of his forearm.

Arousal sat heavy within the pit of your stomach, thick and viscous. Vincent was relentless and unyielding, continuing to pound away at your cunt, gently squeezing underneath your jaw. The combined pleasure that assaulted your clit and throat were preparing to send you cascading over the edge.

“M’close,” You huffed, feeling his lips meet the dip between your neck and shoulder, face buried there as he rutted into you. Everything felt incendiary, as if you’d been set ablaze, only to sink further into the fire. He touched you as if you were molded from obsidian, covetous and desperate for you. “Vincent!”

He never slowed, still pounding away at you, cock unable to go any further before he pulled out just a little bit, only to shove himself back in. A sheen of perspiration glistened across his features, forehead pushing into your shoulder, still clutching at your throat.

You belonged to him — you always would. There was no one else for you, only him.

Vincent huffed, teeth sinking into your flesh until he slammed into you one last time, painting your insides with hot, virile ropes of his seed. He continued to rub circles around your clit, dragging you toward your peak. Your cunt clenched around him, eliciting a throaty groan from him as you came.

A myriad of moans and sighs escaped you, shivers rolling down your spine as your thighs twitched, ecstasy flooding throughout your body. Vincent soothed any bites over with kisses, staying in you for a moment longer until he reclined against the mattress, taking you with him.

You were on top of him, layered in sweat and his cum, palms spread across his chest. Vincent stared at you with complete and utter devotion, gently tucking away any strands of hair that were stuck to your temples.

“You’re perfect,” Vincent signed, tucking his thumb and forefinger beneath your chin. The sienna glow of waning candlelight flickered throughout your shared space, basking you in such an atmospheric light. “You look perfect like this.”

There was a darker undertone to his sweet words — and to him, you did look divine this way, covered in his seed, wracked with want for him. Vincent cared very little for moving in that moment, content to stay with you in the oppressive heat of the basement.

With a soft caress, your fingertips swept across the scarred part of his jaw, mouth clamoring for him in another kiss. He didn’t protest, hand slipping toward the base of your skull, coaxing you closer to him.

“I love you,” You murmured, watching the way his pupil dilated with understanding. “M’tired.” You sank down into the mattress, still staggeringly hot with no sign of changing, either.

Visibly, you were spent, exhilaration and your post-orgasm haze beginning to dissipate into exhaustion. You smiled, laying down at his side instead, head curled toward the broad expanse of his shoulder. He locked an arm around you, caging you in, nowhere else to go — it was where you belonged.

There was nowhere you could go where he wouldn’t follow.

[solitary-traveler]

Hi hiii! I'm actually new here, and gosh i love your writing like since day 1 🛐🛐🛐

Would it be alright to request something like angst! Scaramouche where he's in an established relationship with y/n who decides to become immortal/ doll like so they can live for liek, an eternity with Scara? They could seek out Dottore. Their constitution would be more doll-like compared to Scara, with the visible ball joints and the creaking?? sounds when moving.

The thing would be, the reason Scaramouche fell inlove with them is because of their 'humanity'. You may end it however you wish to! ^^

The Price of Eternity

Loving Scaramouche was never easy He was immortal an you were not

Scaramouche x gn!reader

Notes: Hiiii thank you so much @whitesheeponthestreet, both for this and the compliment!! This was actually kinda fun to write! I like this prompt. In any case, here you go. Sorry it took so long 🙏 I kinda feel like my writing downgraded—

Art: shihatsu_0 on X

Warning: Just angst :) with a slight tinge of comfort?

Loving Scaramouche was never easy.

He was immortal, and you were not.

You sway with the grim reaper, and spin with the deities. Favored by the gods, you were gifted a heart that sang the most wonderful melodies—a song Scara cherished, worshipped, and loved.

Your entirety was a manifestation of those identified as "humans". Yet, it disgusts you.

Mortality means a limited lifespan. All beings die eventually, but human life is transient—a fleeting moment, a passing memory.

That frightens you.

You don't want to betray him.

Aware of the past tribulations carved into his being, you wanted to spare him more torment. He acts tough, but he's as fragile as glass—a precious, porcelain doll. He's barely holding on, and you don't want to shatter that.

You don't want to leave him alone.

Vanishing from his side—in any shape, way, or form—would be a betrayal. It's a pit you refuse to fall into.

That's what brought you here, to the presence of the Doctor.

"Are you sure about this decision? You know it would be irreversible," Dottore hums, hovering over you as you're strapped to a stained mattress. He feigns concern, his lips stretched into a wide smile.

"You can still say no if you'd like."

Despite his warning, he's already rummaging through the scattered tools on a nearby desk. His hands shake as he grabs a clipboard, reading a few lines before moving on to the next page. You simply shake your head in response.

"I know. But I want to do this. I have to."

The sinister smile never leaves Dottore's face. He taps the checklist and promptly snatches a syringe. He shakes the blue fluid inside before his gaze returns to you. Even with the mask, you know his eyes are sparkling with sadistic pleasure.

"Buckle up then, sweetheart. I'm not going to go easy on you."

You nod.

Not like it bothers you.

You love him too much to care about your humanity.

Loving you was never easy.

You were mortal, and he was not.

He wasn't indulged by any god, nor pampered by fate. He was merely created, tossed aside, and left to rot.

If only puppets could rot.

But none of that mattered anymore. His decisions and choices were his alone. No deity or destiny could interfere with the world he forged. The path he walked was stained with blood and lies, a passage he sculpted to scrub away every last trace of human emotion.

He wasn't born with a heart, so why bother with feelings?

Unfortunately, you—with your foolish and ardent self—managed to trespass the safe haven he struggled to create.

But that didn't stop him from loving you.

He was fascinated by your humanity.

How could something so delicate and insubstantial coexist with those that have higher utility?

It was all too intriguing. Compelling. Oh, how he loved it.

How he loved the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, your shifting temperatures that somehow warmed and cooled him down. But your heart... Oh, how he loved your heart.

The beating, the rhythm, everything. It was a constant reminder that you were alive. He liked that. He used to believe he solely existed for the sake of being. Yet your heart, the ever-present voice of reason, screamed, "You're alive too!"

After all these years, he finally felt like living.

Love was never easy.

You were now immortal, and so was he.

Yet, he doesn't feel as happy as he should. His chest feels empty. Hollow. As if something is missing—something more than a heart.

He holds you in his arms as you sleep peacefully. He raises his hand, slowly running his fingers over the ball sockets where your joints now connect. He recalls watching you stumble inside your shared apartment, your movements stiff as you clumsily made your way to him. He recalls your overjoyed smile as you hugged him, going on and on about how you now shared the same lifespan as him. Yet all he could think of was how smooth your skin was. Too smooth for his liking.

He thinks back to the sound of your joints creaking and grating with every move you make. It was horrible, the detestable screech irritating his ears. He looks back to that day, where he held your hand and pressed his lips against your forever cold skin. He remembers whispering, "I'd love you, no matter what you are."

But could he truly do so?

Scaramouche's thoughts spiral as he watches you, immobile and serene in his arms. He tries to convince himself that this new you, this immortal you, is what he always wanted. But the reality gnaws at him. Your once warm skin, a constant source of comfort, is now a cold, smooth surface that feels foreign against his touch. The rhythmic beating of your heart, which had been a soothing lullaby to his otherwise restless existence, is now a deafening silence that haunts him.

Every time he sees your stiff movements, hears the grating sounds of your joints, a pang of regret pierces through him. He had agreed to this transformation, thinking it was the solution to keep you by his side forever. But now, he questions whether it was the right choice. Was his love so fragile that it needed this drastic measure to endure?

He wrestles with his emotions, the conflict raging within him. He had always believed that love transcends physical form, that it is an unwavering force. But now, faced with this new reality, he feels the weight of his own hypocrisy. The physical changes have altered the very essence of what made you, you. The warmth, the breath, the heartbeat—gone.

As he looks at you, he feels a deep sense of loss. The vibrant, living being he fell in love with has been replaced by a lifeless replica. He wonders if he has been selfish, if his fear of losing you has led to this hollow existence. The guilt gnaws at him, amplifying his internal turmoil.

He was still going to love you forever.

But it will never be the same.

Loving you before had been like black coffee, strong and invigorating. This was like decaf—lacking the essence that made it real. He mourns the loss of the person you were, even as he clings to the shell that remains.

[catiuskaa]

new task: valentine’s day.

PAIRING! seungmin x reader ; enemies/rivals2lovers!

SUMMARY: boring classes, boring classmates, boring assignments…to seungmin, everyone is boring even if he’s used to pretend otherwise, but you seem to get on his nerves. you, your stupid poem, and his stupid letter.

WC: 10.6k (OH MY FUCKING GOD)

CW: it’s like fluffy comfort because I say so, kim seungmin supremacy (YES), use of spanglish (just on the text messages bc yes, it’s not relevant to the plot, dw), use of text format for plot convenience (and a whole bunch of emojis and colors), the reader is stupidly short (which i know all about), use of cliché valentine and enemies2lovers tropes (BECAUSE THEY ARE FUN AND THEY WORK), academic rivals (we love to see it), bad student reader x good student seungmin (like bad/mean girl x good boy ish), mentions of the unability to deal with complicated feelings, mentions of masking feelings, slight hint of bullying?, mentions of being followed, use of (pet)names because I don’t like using ‘y/n’: little one, shortie, shortcake, smallable, pretty, (yes i’m just petty like that, sue me), hyunjin as a walking therapist, and the ending is almost a reference to a show i'm obsessed with (not gonna say it so i don't spoil it for you guys hehehe)

SPECIAL THANKS! To my lovely pookies @lyramundana and @tonks-21 for ideas and support, plus also, most of the classmate’s names are thanks to gorgeous gourgeous @stayconnecteed and her spanishverse series bc i’m so invested! Go check all of their blogs out! 100% recommend. son mis chicas españolitas, hehe<3

A/N: alone on valentine’s day? same for me, pookie! but dontchu worry, mister kim seungmin is here to help us out<3 (and if not, we can always help each other😚🫶)

[☆★🌷★☆]

{PROLOGUE: THE GROUPCHAT}

At first, you didn’t really know him.

To think for a second that there was a time where you didn’t know who he was made you sigh. Oh, how you wish you had never, ever encountered him.

…Kim Seungmin.

Some may say that ‘rivals’ or ‘enemies’ is a term that could seem too intense regarding a simple statement: that you two didn’t get along.

But no. Because those kind of words were exactly how you’d define your relationship.

And it had all started the first day of your last year before graduating. When you made the class groupchat.

> you created ‘Year 13-A 😼😼’

> you added ‘lucas🤺’ ‘atenea🛐’ ‘noa🫶’ and 16 more.

> you: guys help, am I missing people?

> you: @ atenea🛐 told me to create this group for homework n stuff but idk if I have everyone’s numbers 😵‍💫😵‍💫

< noa🫶: tía you’re missing two people no?

< lara💋: hala, new people?? 👀

< noa🫶: pero- they’re literally from the other group, girl

< abril🌻: you even know them lara

< abril🌻: se te va la pinza JAJSJA

< miguel📚: sí, there should be 22 people (creo)

> you: oh right, Lix told me!

> you: yeah i’ll add them now, brb 🏃‍♀️

Well.

Rookie mistake.

> you added ‘kim seungmin™️’, ‘hyunjin🎨’

> you: omg i even added everyone

< lucas🤺: omg omg

< kim seungmin™️: omg omg so crazyy

You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly as you texted. But that was just because you hadn’t talked to him before.

Now was a different story, of course. You wouldn’t smile, not for Kim Seungmin.

> you: @ kim seungmin™️ what was crazy is how difficult it was finding someone who had your phone number, lol

< han(gry)🐿️🎙️: fr fr omg

< lucas🤺: que es omg

< lucas🤺: ‘oh me gustas’ ? omg?

< lara💋: you’re such an idiot, asshole

< lucas🤺: ohhh you love me so bad 😌😌😌

< isabel🌸: she knows better lol

< lucas🤺: dude, you’re my sister

< lucas🤺: shouldn’t you be backing me?

< isabel🌸: there’s a fee for that, dude.

You giggled at the stupid teasing, used to your mates’ shenanigans that never ceased to make you laugh.

But then, he replied.

< kim seungmin™️: @ you the only difficult thing here is you reaching graduation

…

Your smile faded.

You read that once more. Then again. And another time.

You chuckled dryly.

What was this guy on about?

> you: ah? wdym?

You remember thinking that maybe he was joking. That maybe he was someone who talked to people with a lot of harsh remarks without really meaning them. That maybe he was trying to be funny, or something.

Other texts showed up, but Kim Seungmin —named like so in the contact Felix had shared to you— wasn’t replying.

< minho🐈: guys wtf it’s 00:12

< lucas🤺: oh he uses the other clock

< lucas🤺: so its am-pm for us but not for you

< lucas🤺: think you’re special? wanna fight?

< noa🫶: lucas just shut up and go to bed

< han(gry)🐿️🎙️: damn right 🛌🛌🛌

< miguel📚: guys, stop texting 😓

> you: yeah guys lol

< minho🐈: no u started this

< minho🐈: u shush

You snickered softly, used to Minho’s humour, quickly playing along.

> you: ?! unfair ☝️🤓

< kim seungmin™️: no, minho’s right for once

< kim seungmin™️: you should shush

< kim seungmin™️: you’re less annoying when you’re quiet

You frowned at your phone, your face contorted in angry confussion.

Who did this guys think he was?

With a huff, you typed a rapid “gtg guys!”, ignoring Seungmin’s texts, and quickly settled your phone back on your pocket, getting off the bus and finally arriving home.

You groaned, the text that that Seungmin idiot had sent still rolling in your head even after you laid in bed. You passed your hands through your hair.

“Difficult to reach graduation?” You mumbled, eyes fixated ln the chatroom the sentence feeling like acid in your mouth.

Kim Seungmin wasn’t ready for how difficult his last year was going to be, solely for his stupid text message.

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 1: NOT A LOVEFOOL… YET}

To be in the same class group than him was slightly tolerable.

Is what you’d like to say if you were in a good mood. But it wasn’t the case.

You were mad. As fuck.

“I just need you to give it a chance,” Miss Fernández stated once more, and you had to hold back to not roll your eyes at her.

“But Miss. I know that this subject is difficult and that he could, uh, help me out with the project,” you muttered reluctantly, because on normal circumstances, you wouldn’t go as far as to let Kim Seungmin help you with chemistry. Not ever.

You weren’t in need of help that desperatly.

And that was a fact, not a matter of ifs, buts, or maybes. That was an absolute. Something that lovely-yet-not-so-much teacher Lucía Fernández, spanish accent and all, was not getting.

“Listen. We both know that your grade is the best I can offer considering your behaviour in my class, despite of your average knowledge of the subject. And in this case, I am offering to set that aside if you work on these following assignments with your classmate Seungmin.”

Her harsh tone was also an absolute, and that made you clench your jaw. You blamed Lucas for her attitude towards you —after all, that one accident with a Bunsen Burner had been mostly his fault—, but you breathed in, trying to offer your most pity-inducing grin.

Judging by her glare, it wasn’t working.

“Miss, I—”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t look like she was. “It’s my last word. And I think that after coming three days to my office on each of your free periods, this is getting a bit tiring.” She sighed, adjusting her glasses by a soft push of her finger.

Nope. She definetely wasn’t sorry.

Witholding a groan you left her office, and huffed as the door closed behind you, swiftly heading to meet your group of friends when they got out of their Biology lesson in other building within the school grounds.

It was a chilly evening, maybe not too much from what one could expect for the first week of February, still one that made you hide your face in your scarf and you hands in your jacket pockets.

You settled your headphones where they belonged, humming to the music to hold back the need to rant and rave against your chemistry teacher, when your phone dinged.

< henry li🫧: everything ok? saw you in lucifer’s office rn

< henry li🫧: did you do smth again? you cheekyyy 🙊

You gingerly laughed, and started typing out your answer, when, out of nowhere, you bumped against someone, making all of the books that they were carrying fall down of their grasp.

You pursed your lips, then pressed them in a thin line. Staring at their— his back, you saw that his backpack was almost empty. Why the fuck would he carry all of his books on his hands then?

The guy had quickly bent down to get his books back, and you followed too, taking your headphones off and quickly trying to prevent the papers from getting wet because of the floor, that was damp from the rain before, when your hands softly brushed against each other, still, you forced yourself to ignore it.

“I’m so…” the word dissapeared in your mouth.

“It’s ok, don’t… oh.” He blinked, his face showing nothing. For fuck’s sake.

Why did it always have to be him?

He swiftly took all of the things from you, as if your touch could be worse than the wet floor. You frowned, feeling a cold shiver trail up your spine, and you crossed your arms in front of you, struggling to seek some warmth.

“Watch it, little one.” He mocked with a light smirk. “I might accidentally step on you one day.”

You looked at him through your eyelashes. What. An. Idiot. You passed a hand through your hair, chuckling dryly.

“I-,” you sighed, shaking your head sideways. “Nah, you know what? I don’t have time for this crap.” You smiled at him widely, full of sarcasm.

But just when you were about to leave, you felt a tug at your sleeve, the fabric of your shirt not thick enough to hide the warmth of Seungmin’s grasp on your forearm. You frowned, confused at the lack of any uncomfortable feelings because of it. There was none, but rather a need to cover yourself with it and wear it like a jacket.

“Did you fix it?”

You blinked, trying to get your brain to focus on his words.

“Huh?”

He rolled his eyes, but his hand didn’t move an inch. “You said you were going to talk to Miss Fernández so we wouldn’t be partners, which is, well, so mature, congratulations,” he tsked, but then continued. “But did it work?”

You licked your lips and swallowed, your throat feeling dry. What was going on? You needed to focus.

In a harsh motion, you moved your arm away from his grasp. You forced yourself to ignore how your skin missed it.

“I… no. She settled. You- I mean… we…” the word felt awkward when it rolled off your tongue.

We? There was no such thing in between Seungmin and you. No we, no us, no nothing. And it was like that for a reason. One that you had almost forgotten with how softly his slender and warm hand had been holding your forearm. Ugh.

As you struggled to say those infamous words, your phone dinged again, and you mumbled a short “oh, wait,” and unlocked it.

< henry li🫧: leaving me on read, shortcake?

Seungmin stared at your phone, shoving his hands on his pockets when he saw you smile at the bright screen. He bit his lower lip. He hadn't taken all of his stuff out of his backpack just for this.

“So,” he licked his lips, and it almost shocked you the sudden roughness on his tone and demeanour. “Chemistry is easy. We can meet up on Friday in the public library. An hour or two should be enough, even for someone with a fun-sized brain like yours.” He chuckled meanly, the motherfucker.

Ever since that stupid text from him, you had made it your mission to surpass him, or at least reach his level, and to be honest, you were even succeding in some cases, like philosophy, art history, spanish, technical drawing and business studies. But Chemistry?

Chemistry would always kick you in the ass.

Before you were able to come up with a comeback for his stupid snicker, the bell rang, and you felt an arm laying its weight on your shoulders.

“Smallable!” Lucas laughed, then realized that you were talking to a certain someone and ful Ty ly gasped. “Oh my god. Are you two finally dating and I interrupted— AH!” He was interrupted by your elbow hitting his side. Noa and Atenea chuckled behind him.

“No. Seungmin was just leaving.” You huffed with a frown, but then you smiled, almost excessively, like a small maniac. “Right?”

But before he was able to reply or mock you, Atenea spoke, ruining your chances of kicking him away.

“But we all have English now,” she said, and if it had been someone else, like Lucas, you would’ve stepped on his shoe or something. “We’re going to the same place, we can go together.”

Seungmin felt you stare intensively at him. He smiled at Atenea, finding that he enjoyed having you look at him, reason why he loved annoying the shit out of you.

“Sure!” He smiled politely, almost sheepishly, and you bit your lip to hold back the need to scoff at his 'obviously fake' kindness.

Because except for you, the rest of your class —heck, probably the rest of the school— were smitten with Kim Seungmin.

Top of the class, funny, kind, and cutely introverted Kim Seungmin was just a dorky student who tried to get along with everyone.

But that was wrong. And you may not have any proof aside from his mean attitude towards you and only you, but you knew it.

Seungmin had to be more than just a pretty boy with high grades, and it was only with you that he proved you right.

You stayed next to Lucas, hoping that Seungmin would at least stay with your friends and ignore you.

But to your horror, he smiled at you, a pink dust on his cheeks. “If you don’t mind?”

Oh, son of a bitch.

“No… it’s whatever.” You huffed.

Because against his dorky self, to the rest of your class —heck, to the rest of the school— you were the quote on quote “bad student.”

Troublesome, mean, class clown? Check. You laughed at teachers in class with Lucas far more than what could be ignored, the dresscode had always been more of a guide in what to wear, unlike what most students usually followed, and you may have been expelled a bunch of times.

Even if you were somewhat kind to the people in school, and even if they all knew your rivalry with Seungmin, God forbid you were mean to him.

You wouldn’t see the end of it.

And he knew it.

Bitch.

So there you were, walking to English class with your friends plus innocent Seungmin —who no one had called, not even the ghostbusters—, who was snickering and giggling with Atenea about who-gives-a-shit. Something class-related. You couldn’t be bothered to listen.

Lucas chuckled next to you.

“Careful, Spongebob.” He laughed. “Some could say you seem jealous.”

…WHAT?!

“Of… of Kim Seungmin?” You snorted. “Are you on drugs?”

He ruffled your hair. “Sure, sure, keep lying to yourself, shortie.”

Finally, you arrived to class, but before you stepped inside, Seungmin stopped you, whispering in your ear.

“Yeah, shortie.” He teased, his lips almost grazing the shell of your ear. “Don’t be too jealous. We wouldn’t want everyone to know you love me.”

His whisper would’ve been almost enticing if it weren’t for the fact that it was Kim Seungmin the man in question, and he snickered, pushing his glasses back.

But then someone cleared his throat behind you two.

“Care to sit down? I don’t have all day.” Mister Holmes grunted, carrying a monster drink and a coffe at the same time.

That mas was slightly terryifing.

You squinted at Seungmin and then walked to your place at the back of the class, hoping that your cheeks felt warm because of how the teacher had startled you and definetely not your classmate’s honey-like voice.

“Pssst. Heeey,” Noa smiled teasingly, whispering with a smirk. “Pssst. You’re blushing…!”

“Shut up!” You frowned at her, but you were unable to hold back a smile. But it was because of your friend Noa. Not Kim Seungmin.

Mr Holmes cleared his throat, and finished off his monster, throwing it to the bin.

“So. I’ve been hearing from some students in the hallways that you’re all excited for saint valentines’ day.” He stated in a strong voice, one that filled the class with little to no effort. “And sadly so, I was thinking of putting an exam that Wednesday…” he faked a sigh, and you had to hold back a laugh, contrary to the frowns and groans that appeared in your classmates faces. Pfft, what a character. “Unless… you guys want to do something in true valentines fashion.”

Mr Holmes crossed his arms, laying back on his chair, his stare cold and face lacking any kind of emotions.

“Say… any ideas, Mr… Kim?”

Seungmin sat up straight at his name being mentioned, and you rolled your eyes, holding back a mocking smirk.

“I ugh… I wouldn’t want to bother my classmates with a lot of work, sir… but maybe… maybe a writing assingment related to the topic would be… enough?” Seungmin stated, his tone soft and shy, and there was even a blush that trailed up from his neck, but he stayed staight and firm as he spoke.

“A valentine-themed task.” Mr Holmes enunciated as he pondered. “It’s a… decent idea. Any complaints?”

You felt some of your classmates’ eyes on you, and you sighed, crossing your arms in front of you, remaining silent. As long as it wasn’t an exam, you’d accept whatever.

“With that settled, I’ll upload the task online this afternoon, but it’ll have to be written by hand. Be sure to hand in a picture of your assignment on time, or your final grade will be affected.” The teacher turned on his laptop, and started taking assistance.

[☆★🌷★☆]

Time had passed dreadfully slowly, until the bell rang and Mr Holmes dissmissed all of you so everyone could leave for the day.

“A valentine-themed task.” You huffed in annoyance as you stuffed your locker with books you weren’t going to take home.

“I thought it was original.” A voice snickered lowly behind you, and you slapped your locker close, smiling at him.

“Well, Henry. It’s no surprise your taste sucks.”

You chuckled when he rolled his eyes.

“I was waiting for your reply,” he mentioned with a soft tone.

You closed your locker, and you two started walking together. “Oh, sorry, I totally forgot,” you apologized with a smile, but he brushed it off. “Yeah, I was with Lucifer earlier. She’s making me work with Seungmin for this term’s assignments.”

Henry frowned. “And we hate that guy… right…” you chuckled.

“Exactly. We don’t like him.”

“So then, don’t do it. You were going to meet him to study, right?” You nodded, smirking slightly at him.

“We agreeded to meet on Friday to start, in the library.” You added, watching his smirk widen. “What are you thinking?”

He stopped walking, smiling at you. “There’s this club that opened recently. Been wanting to go have a look. Apparently, it’s like exclusive and shit. And it’s Friday.” His light-coloured eyes shined as he looked at you. “Meet me there?”

You grinned cheekily.

“Sure. Can’t wait.”

[☆★🌷★☆]

You hadn’t noticed Seungmin on the school bus until this year.

Because he had made himself noticeable, sitting at the back of the bus, a couple seats away from you, but oh, dorky Seungmin was always friend of everyone, sheepishly starting conversation with any kinds of people in the bus, no matter the year they were in.

Before his text, you had even thought he was cute as he gingerly chatted with a group of kids who were probably starting high school.

“Is it too difficult?” A little girl asked.

And it surprised you how he turned to her and smiled, almost tugging at your heart strings, eyes like crescent moons.

“It’s only difficult if you stop trying. And we don’t give up, right?” He stated cheerfuly, and all the kids shined at his sheepish and bashful brightness, high-fiving the girl that talked to him.

You forced yourself to shove those memories to the back of your mind. That Seungmin wasn’t real. And you didn’t like him. The real him. Right?

“Oi, Kim Seungmin.” You called, as it was only you two left on the bus.

He was surprised at your call, but only side-eyed at you, lazily raising his brows, signalling that he was listening. You frowned.

See? You thought to yourself. He’s mean. He isn’t sweet, nor cute. Focus.

“What kind of lame ass idea was that?” You huffed with a mean smile. “A valentine-themed assignment.” You snorted.

His bus stop was close, so he ignored you as he picked up his coat and backpack, but you kept on talking. “You know? Hallmark office called, they want their boring clichés back,” you mocked, laughing.

Backpack on and coat hanging on his arm, he stared at you, and waited for a red light to walk to your seat.

He settled next to you, still staring at you as you chimed mean remarks about his originality and such and such.

“Anything else to mumble? I couldn’t hear you from down there.” He snorted meanly, and you were too focused on annoying him that you didn’t notice his stare at your lips as he licked his own.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a lame guy. He gave you the chance to choose, and you chose that piece of—?!”

His lips tasted as sweet as his voice that day with those little kids.

You felt his hand slowly creep up and cradle your face, his eyes closed as he kissed you, and slowly, your eyes closed too.

It was sweet. So sweet. But what was it? It was a flavour that you knew. Its sweetness was so familiar, but you couldn’t seem to figure out what was it.

You kissed him back, and he let out a surprised whine as you sighed, your hands, which had been frozen on his shoulders, waiting for your order to push him away, slowly followed up and remained on his face, your thumbs almost stroking his cheeks.

You wanted needed to know what he tasted like.

But it was when your hands went into his hair that he sighed too, melting under your touch, that your brain clicked.

…

what were you doing?

…

WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!

You pushed him away, and your breath hitched.

He didn’t look like fake Seungmin.

In front of you was not the innocent boy who had straight A’s and was shy enough to not be able to say no to a lot of things, who sheepishly spoke up in class, or who treated everyone with a bashful kindness that was so endearing.

This Seungmin was different. His glasses had a bit of a fog in them, his hair was all messed up, and his lips were plush, pink from your tinted gloss and slightly swollen from your kiss.

This Seungmin was a wreck, all flustered and kissable, and he looked like a mess.

But it felt real.

And for a second, you wanted to kiss him again, yearning to figure what that kiss tasted like, the word for it almost in the tip of your tongue.

He panted, struggling to catch his breath.

“Finally,” he huffed with a smile, but his dark eyes didn’t match the mocking in his tone. A small part of your mind thought that they looked prettier than any light eyes you had ever seen. “So you were able to shut up, after all.” He gulped, still panting.

He moved away from you slowly, as you remained there, frozen, like a piece of art in front of him, cheeks blushed, lips flushed and parted as your eyes stared at him, an emotion much different from this evening.

He found himself enjoying this one even more.

“Eh… T-this is my bus stop.” He muttered when the bus stopped. Maybe it wasn’t, but he didn’t care. He felt like he would have the energy to run home if needed. “I-I’ll… see you tomorrow.”

You blinked as he stood up and walked away.

What…

What had just happened?

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 2: UNDER THE STREETLIGHT}

After avoiding Seungmin like the plague all Thursday, only looking at his back when you zoned off in class, Friday arrived earlier than expected.

You hadn’t been able to concentrate at all, the thought of his sweet taste lingering in your mouth, almost letting you feel the ghost of his lips pressed against yours.

“Hello? Earth to… oh, you’re awake, Jesus.” Abril looked at you with a smile, but she was unable to hide her worried look.

“Of course I am,” you mumbled, shaking your head sideways. “What’s going on?”

“You haven’t even touched your delicious and totally-not-overcooked pasta.” Lara mentioned the cafeteria lunch as she poked it whith her fork, full of humour. “It leads to believe that you’re dealing with something far more interesting that the technical drawing homework, that’s for sure.”

You bit your lip, hesitating.

“Is it because Henry Li has been ignoring you?” Noa mentioned softly.

You blinked, puzzled. “Huh?”

He’d been ignoring you? Now that she had mentioned, maybe that could’ve happened. Maybe you would’ve realized if you hadn’t been so focused on Seungmin and whatever-happened-that-cannot-and-should-not-be-remembered-every-five-minutes…

…or maybe you should look for an easier name for it.

“Uh, no, he invited me to this new place today, actually,” you brushed your hair with your hand mindlessly. “But I’m fine. Really. Just tired.” You smiled at the girls, and joined in at their conversation.

After lunch, you separated from Lara and Noa, who had literature, and Abril, who had been hanging out with a guy called Jeongin from her photography club recently, and so you headed to the study room.

It was a quiet place, quieter that what you had initially expected for a high school study room. Matter of fact, you thought it was a pity that the school closed it after class, considering that in that case you wouldn’t have to walk to the public library.

You opened the door silently, finding that there were barely any students, only three or four people studying silently. You were heading towards a lonely corner so you could listen to music in a high volume without having to pay attention if it could be heard through your headphones. Or maybe, considering that it hadn’t been a lie and that you had slept like four hours maximum, you could probably rest there until the bell rang.

You snickered when you looked to your right, finding someone struggling with the technical drawing homework that had been assigned that morning, the one that Lara and Noa had been talking about.

You gently tapped the guy’s shoulder, but spoke before he even turned.

“You’re missing this incline here,” you whispered on his ear, your arms coming above his shoulders, placing your hands above his, placing the square and bevel on the right angle. “It should be seen, but with dotted lines, get it? That way the side-view makes sense.” You added with a soft giggle.

“Oh, right. T-thank you…” he mumbled, not facing you.

You brushed it off as weird, but your sleepy self wasn’t bothered enough to notice or pry, and instead smiled, ruffled his hair and settled in your cozy little corner, placing your scarf in between your arms and rested your head on it, merely “resting your eyes”, but only if a teacher happened to come and check on the students.

Seungmin stared at your sleeping figure, eyes almost wide. He felt like his heart was going to explode underneath the layers of flesh. His hands tingled, his usually warm and sweaty palms missing the comfortable coldness of yours, so soothing and relaxing.

Either you had completely gone crazy, or he had fallen asleep trying to complete the stupid assignment. He knew you were good at technical drawing, it was one of the subjects were he wasn’t. It wasn’t a surprise when several students started asking you for help on their papers and assignments, considering that you were one of the few who was able to receive praise from the teacher, a middle-aged man with no kind of vocation with kids or teaching, by any means.

But it had never happened when he was the one in need of help, had you ever considered the idea of helping him.

He watched you, puzzled, as he had never done before, and maybe it would be the first time of many because Seungmin found himself liking what he was seeing, dare I say mesmerized by the image before him.

By you.

Your sleepy figure was as calm as he had ever seen from you, sleeping with little to no care in the world. Your hair remained stuck in a ponytail, which allowed Seungmin to notice that it left the skin of your neck visible, and despite the voice on his head saying that it was a behaviour quite like a man from the Modern Ages, just being so fixated at that small bit of skin, he couldn’t help but feel bashfully amazed.

Suddenly, he noticed you licked your lips, your eyes still closed and your small smile never faltering, but that made something start to flutter in his stomach, as if a whole lot of butterflies had been awaken at the sight of you, tranquil, and sweet, and cute, and he forced himself to stop looking at you abruptly, wondering why he had done that in the first place.

Licking your lips only made Seungmin aware of how dry his were, and action plus the thought of your lips immediately brought back what had happened on Wednesday.

Crazy. He’d gone completely crazy.

He felt his hand slowly approach his lips and he grazed them with his fingers, almost able to taste your chapstick back on his lips. Because he had been able. All Wednesday night. And a small part of him wanted more of it.

He blushed, scratching his eyes. He hadn’t slept shit, his mind betraying him every time he attempted to close his eyes instantly going back to the memory of how you stared at him after your kiss, dark pupils, and red lips, and so ridiculously gorgeous that it made Seungmin wonder why whenever he saw you he resorted to his first line in code: being mean.

He never used that side with anyone. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried, because small, teasing and slightly unhinged Kim Seungmin had tried to be himself in middle school, and… well.

Let’s just say that it didn’t work like expected.

But everyone loved dorky, funny and sweet Seungmin. Even with the difference with grades, that had definetely not been appreciated in his early years, nowadays people would see that as a part of him, and he recieved praise for it, not only from teachers, but also nice classmates, who sometimes went to seek help from him.

He just needed to pretend for a bit. Smile here and there, and put on a sheepish act of bashfulness that despite it not being natural, it wasn’t totally bad. It wasn’t like middle school.

But then you came in the picture.

Something about you made Seungmin want to tease you. To see you finally look at him after battling in your head if you even should, and then, sometimes when you were mad enough, you’d glare at him, and he couldn’t help but grin. Your cheeks flushed in anger that creeped up your body, how you looked at him through your lashes or how you’d tease him back. The first time you had done that, his brain’s chemistry had changed, he was sure of that.

He didn’t care about the mean remarks, and that now seemed almost obvious, considering what had happened almost two days ago in the school bus.

But it got impossible to miss when Seungmin noticed your sleepy self shivering in your slumber. With a mental groan, careful of not making any kind of loud noise in the study room, he slowly got closer to your corner, and tried to close the windows near it. And failed, because the stupid windows were old and rusty, only able to move them a bit.

He bit his lip, arguing in his head. Would that be enough? No, it probably wasn’t, right? Yeah, it couldn’t be. Considering that you always wore thin clothing, always borrowing your mates’ jackets…

…it couldn’t possibly hurt to do a bit more, right?

Seungmin approached you further, and shook a hand close to your face, but you were dead, as still as a fallen tree, despite the sunlight that enetered throught the windows glowing on your face, the Sun in winter, that brought little to no warmth, made you shine in his eyes.

He’d see you in the public library a couple of hours later. It didn’t mean anything. He could probably tease you for sleeping in school later. Yeah. And then he’d ask for his jacket back.

Seungmin was lost in his thoughts as he carefully settled his jacket over your shoulders, and he froze when you sighed deeply, surrounded by a familiar warmth and a cozy scent that you didn’t know you had missed or needed until then, but you didn’t wake up.

He blinked when he noticed your phone in your hand, the screen suddenly turning on. He giggled at your wallpaper, which had a silly joke on it and a funny doodle of a banana.

But then his eyes trailed down to the notification that had made the phone turn on.

[3 new messages from: henry li🫧]

> sorry i didn’t get to see u yesterday, had to sort smth out!

> guys.its.totally.a.real.address.wdym.lol

> it’s the address for later, shortcake 😉❤️

…huh?

Seungmin blinked once. Twice. Nah, his glasses had to be deceiving him. Then, another notification popped up.

> can’t wait to see you ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

He winced silently.

Ugh. What a cringy choice of emojis.

Did you really like this guy?

He frowned, going back to his place in the study room.

Ugh.

He didn’t care, obviously. Why would he care? That wasn’t his business. Never was, never would be. Not like he was interested. Pffft, no. Not at all. Yeah, nah. That kiss had been a one time thing. Totally. 100%. He wasn’t thinking about it again. Nope. Nor did he want to kiss you again. Not in a chance.

Just… ugh.

It was just that… no. Scratch that. No further comments.

He sighed as he went back to his work, feeling a sudden inspiration hit him as he took out a blank paper for the English class valentine’s assignment, but not before he looked at you again, then shook his head, turning the music back on in his headphones. He started writing, drafting, and throwing papers away, getting slightly desperate at his perfectionism.

He sighed. His eyes trailed off towards you.

Slowly, words started to flow in his head. Pretty sentences, things that he had kept hidden in the back of his mind. Maybe it could be good to let it all out. It couldn’t hurt. Yeah.

So he stared writing. Vomiting word after word. And he finished earlier than expected, with two papers.

One was perfect for the english assignment. It was boring and dull enough to be handed in for a school work, but good enough for his perfectionism.

And the other… was something different.

Something that had only happened because you were there, in front of him.

He stood up, letter on his hand. He leaned against the table you were sleeping in, and settled the jacket further on your shoulders. He sighed, grabbing a pen from his pencil case, folding the letter and signed it.

Maybe it was a bad idea, he thought as he picked up his stuff from the table and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

He looked at your figure once more before heading out.

It had been to check if you were still asleep, of course.

Just to check.

Yeah.

[☆★🌷★☆]

Your phone vibrated in your hand again.

And again.

And again.

With a groan, you silently accepted that there was no way you could fool an inanimate object into believing that you were still asleep.

But when you yawned and looked around and didn’t find the posters in your room, but rather a whole bunch of tables and chairs, your eyes widened.

It hadn’t been your alarm but a phone call that had awoken you.

“Y-yeah?” You mumbled, picking up the call and quickly taking your backpack and scarf and rushing out of the study room, taking a quick scan and making sure you weren’t leaving anything behind.

“I’m heading to the club now, shortcake.” A low voice greeted. “Are you getting ready?”

Who…?

“H-henry?” You frowned slightly.

You heard him snicker through the other side. “Yeah?”

Fuck, shit, fuck.

“N-nothing! Nothing, I, uh, I was just doing my make up. Y-you know.”

What? You frowned, even more this time. No, that didn’t make any sense. You always blabbered about how you never did your make up for clubbing because the one you owned was cheap and never stayed on anyways.

“Sure, yeah.”

It didn’t seem like he had noticed.

“You can head there before me. I’ll go there eventually, yeah?”

You heard him snicker on the other side of the phone call. “Ok, baby.” He cleared his throat, stuttering a bit. “Y-yeah, I mean, I’ll uh… get there in a bit. Don’t rush.”

Only then you felt that the wind from outside wasn’t freezing your bones like usual. You squinted at the jacket you were wearing.

“Henry, did you…?” But he hung up.

It probably was him. Yeah. That’s why he had called you. To make sure you’d wake up.

Besides, there were little to no people who’d do such a kind gesture towards you, and even if the jacket was pretty much your style and it smelled like heaven, it didn’t feel like something any of the girls would keep around.

So, why didn’t it made you feel giddy that Henry had given you his jacket?

You kept on running through the hallways and catched the bus that was usually there for students who had extracurricular classes, unlucky people who had to stay in school late in Fridays. You never had, using Fridays to be a bit lazy or to start homework sooner just to hand it in earlier than Seungmin.

Oh.

Friday.

Seungmin.

The library.

You bit your nails, staring through the window.

Would he wait there for long?

What was he going to do once he figured you weren’t going to show up?

Were you… feeling guilty?

No… that… that couldn’t be, you chuckled dryly. Mean decisions against Kim Seungmin didn’t spend too much time on the judgmental side of your brain. You just… teased him back. And he’d take it. And double it. And so on.

So why did this feel too mean?

Could it be because of whatever-happened-that-cannot-and-should-not-be-remembered-every-five-minutes?

Could the fact that it had been the best thing that had happened in a long while?

Well, fine.

Not just ‘thing’.

A kiss.

And for fuck’s sake, what kiss.

You groaned and grunted, sprinting home as soon as the bus stopped.

Why did it always have to be him?

You entered your room and burst open your closet. The jacket was cool, you thought. And if you were going to see Henry, you could just wear it and hand it back to him in the club.

It was vintage, but its warmth engulfed you as if it had been handmade. Its funky designs and patterns looked cute, and its grey color contrasted well with it. You chose the first dress you saw, a tight black dress with no sleeves that you would’ve discarded as too short if you had more time, but it wasn’t exactly something you could’ve bragged about.

Jacket, dress, high socks, boots, wallet, phone, keys, headphones… yeah. You nodded, checking all of the boxes in your mental list, and started hurriedly walking to the address he had sent.

You hoped you weren’t going to be too late.

[☆★🌷★☆]

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…”

“The number you are trying to call is turned off or out of coverage. Please, leave your message after the—”

You hang up, tired of hearing that mechanic voice over and over again.

You looked around you, and there was nothing that looked like a club. You had tried to enter the building that the address lead to, but it hadn’t got well.

A strange figure opened a small window and gave you a look, almost disgusted. It took you a second to understand that they were wearing a mask, with dark lace and other colours. But just when you were about to speak, the window slammed close.

You blinked, puzzled. Where the fuck was Henry sending you? What kind of club was this?

You had started to roam around the building, trying to call him —and failing misserably, because the damn guy couldn’t pick up the fucking phone for the life of him—, but now you were starting to run out of ideas.

It was past 12pm, your legs shivered with every slight wind that swooshed your way, and there was no one that was going to pick up the phone. Not Henry, that ridiculous imbecile, not Lucas, who always bragged about having his phone in night mode, so nothing would get to him until morning, and not the girls, because Noa had her phone turned off, Atenea was most likely sleeping, Abril and Lara hadn’t picked up either, and your list of close friends who could possibly pick up was… that.

And no one was picking up the fucking phone.

You were about to keep on ranting about how disgustingly bad this was turning out to be, but you heard footsteps coming your way. You looked around, but didn’t find the source. With a frown, you walked to the building again

Placing your hand on one of the windows, who were dark and almost impossible to see through, you could notice that in the dim light from what could be seen outside, Henry was well entertained with a certain kind of company, so much that he couldn’t even pick up your phone.

You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against the tinted glass. Of course. Yeah. That made total sense. It was Henry, after all. He had always been known to be kind of an asshole anyways. It couldn’t possibly come out as a surprise the fact that he actually was.

You shook your head and mentally mocked him and the blond girl he was kissing.

Henry Li could go to Hell.

Guess there was nothing left to do now. You had dumped Seungmin, and Henry had dumped you. It was an ass move over an ass move. Maybe you kinda deserved it.

But then your thoughts ended in a halt, because you swore you could feel a shadow starting to follow you from a distance.

They were behind you, but not too close, and due to their hoodie it was imposible to distinguish their face.

So you started walking. Turning left. Right. Left again. Right. Just kept on walking. Don’t look behind you. They’d probably just leave. This had to be your imagination, 100%.

But when you took a peak, the silhouette was not only still behind you, slowly walking towards you, but a slight bit closer this time.

You swallowed dry, gulped, even. Your heart tightened in your chest. What kind of joke was this? Your eyes were tearing up. You were tired, and this was mental. Adrenaline rumped through your body, and even if you were already lost, you kept on walking.

You took your phone from your pocket. Think, think, think. Who could you call? Who could pick up at one am? You scrolled down your list of contacts, until for a reason you don’t fully get, your eyes stopped at a certain name.

—> seungmeannie

It couldn’t possibly hurt to try… right?

You sniffed almost silently, and pressed call.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

You started crying a bit louder, unable to hold it back.

“Eh, hi…?”

“S-seungmin!” You sobbed, smiling. It was the first time in your life you had been that happy just from being able to hear his voice, raspy and low.

“W-what?” He stopped talking, and you guessed that it was because he hadn’t figured out who was calling him so late at night. “Do you know what time it is, you fun-sized dingus?” He groaned sleepily at the phone.

You bit your lip and sniffed.

“Wait. Are you… crying?” His tone had changed.

“I-i’m sorry about t-this eve-ening.” You sobbed, failing to hold back the tears, hugging the jacket that was still on your shoulders.

“Are you drunk, little one?” You never thought your shoulders could relax as fast as they had when his soft tone of voice called you that stupid nickname.

“N-no, I… I went to this stupid club, with-“

“With Henry, yeah.” The way he said his name, as if he wanted to put that stupid bitch in a box and send him to the end of the world took you by surprise.

“B-but um, he’s not picking up my phone and I…” you gulped. Taking a peek behind you, you shivered. “I think someone’s following me.”

“Wait, what?” Seungmin had never stood up from bed as fast as he had done that night. “Where are you?” He asked to the phone as he randomly picked a sweater and his glasses, biting his lip as he struggled to put on his shoes.

“I… I don’t know.” You sobbed. “I started walking away so he’d go, but it didn’t work.” You mumbled, sniffing. You felt so stupid.

“Everything’s going to be fine, yeah?” It was the first time in the whole afternoon that you felt like that statement could be true. Because Seungmin was going to help you. “Don’t hang up. Tell me what buildings can you see. Try heading away from small alleys. I’ll find you.”

Seungmin rushed out of his appartment, not before scribbling down what was happening in a post it note and left it on his mother’s bedside table.

“T-there are some restaurants, but they’re all closed.” You started, dubious as how was this going to work. “There’s a road to my left.”

“Can you name any of the restaurants, little one?” Seungmin had a hunch, and he huffed, sprinting to the plaza closest to his appartment.

“I just passed by a Mexican, I think.” You sniffed, Seungmin’s soothing voice working like a charm and calming you down slowly. “In front of me, I think this is a Japanese… it’s called Ginza.”

Seungmin chuckled, feeling relief flooding his body. “Y-yeah, ok! I- god, yes, I know where you are. Keep walking straight ahead. There should be a park, right?” He started running, hiding the fact that he’d have to rush and make the usual fifteen minutes it could take him to arrive where you were and make them five.

He needed to see you and make sure you were safe.

“I… shit, yeah! I can see it!” You went back to crying, a smile planted in your features.

“I’m almost there. You’re doing so well, little one.”

You felt your cheeks getting warmer at that. Walking a bit faster, you looked behind you, finding that the silhouette was still there.

But Seungmin was close. Seungmin said everything would be fine.

“S-seungmin?” You mumbled at the phone, wanting to hear his voice, so soothing and warm.

“Under the streetlight, silly.”

You heard the beep that sounded when Seungmin ended the call, but he was there, tangible, a couple of meters away from you.

You chuckled, happy to see him for the first time ever, and crying away the pent up stress and worry, you ran off to him, and clung your arms around his neck tightly, unbothered at the need to stand on the tips of your toes to do so.

Seungmin stuttered, still panting from the marathon he had ran to get there, 100% baffled at this. But it was ok. You were there. You were safe.

“T-they’re still behind me.” You whispered against his chest.

He could feel your nervousness on your tone, how scared you were judging by how strongly your arms closed behind his neck, and hesitated for a second before hugging you back, his arms pulling you closer by your lower back, keeping you grounded and so weirdly safe in his grasp, and it felt so strangely comforting coming from him that your eyes swelled with more tears.

You couldn’t see or feel the person behind you anymore, but Seungmin did, somewhat clearly.

The only thing that his mind made up that moment is that for the person to leave, they’d have to believe you two did know each other.

And Seungmin’s heart beated loudly in his chest when your grasp loosened and you stood back on your feet, allowing him to see how your lip trembled, how you were holding back tears and how you looked at him with a million emotions hidden in the colour of your eyes. He had never seen you cry before.

His hands itched to touch you again, a sudden need to comfort you that overwhelmed him.

So he did.

His hands cradled your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away your tears, and he pecked your lips softly, smiling at your baffled face. His arms engulfed you in a comforting hug that smelled so much like the jacket you were wearing.

He looked behind you, and the silhouette was nowhere to be found. As if it had never been there before.

“It’s ok.” Seungmin whispered in your ear. “I’m here now. You’re safe. They’re gone, yeah?” His arms rested on your shoulders as his slender hands stroked your hair. “No one’s gonna hurt you now, pretty.”

And you started to cry on his shoulder, because not only then you realized how bad you had needed a hug, and not even the fact that it had been a hug from him that you had secretly yearned for, but because none of your excuses made sense now.

There was no ‘fake’ or ‘real’ Seungmin.

Whatever he was, fake or not, stood in front of you as he hugged you under the streetlight.

And you sighed as he cooed at you softly, because deep down you had known for a while.

It was time you came to terms with it.

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 3: WINDOWS, LETTERS AND POEMS}

Wednesday. 9:56 am. 14th February.

Most of your classmates were still arriving from their next class as you stared at two papers in your hands slightly from afar, pencil in your lips.

You had discarded most of your creations all Monday and Tuesday when you finally ended with a draft you liked for the stupid english homework. It was nothing out of the ordinary.

But the letter in your other hand, however, was something you had never done before.

“What’s that you got there?”

Any kind of bubbly and nervous emption you had vanished at the sound of that low voice.

“Fuck off, Li.” You grunted in a husky tone, frowning at him and grabbing back the letter from his hands.

“Is it a love letter for me?” He chuckled, ignoring your behaviour.

“Why the fuck would I write that, huh?” You laughed, a chuckle full of acid, one that had much more hatred that you had ever said before.

Henry brushed a hand through his hair, and you couldn’t help but think he looked stupid. You had liked this guy? Ugh.

“Because today is valentine’s day, shortcake.”

You squinted and frowned at him.

“Swishing those dyed and damaged locks like a Loreal advert won’t make anyone fall in love with you.” You snorted, and realized the people in the hallway had fallen into silence, listening to your conversation. “Or maybe it worked with that blond girl in the club?” You pretended to ponder out loud, leaning against the locker behind you, facing him with confidence.

“Wait, what?” He mumbled.

You snickered, taking him by surprise. “Oh, silly. I was never going to date you. I kept hearing that you were an ass and figured that was right, because aside from me, little to no people talked to you. I guess I just felt pityful.” You faked a pout.

He clenched his fists, his shoulders tense.

“You’re lying.” He grunted.

You chuckled. “You wish I was. That blond girl didn’t steal my man. She stole my problem.” You heard some gasps from the people in the corridor, as they had formed some kind of circle around you two.

But then, Henry snorted, and cleared his throat, talking with a much louder voice. “So you’re not going to let everyone know about you and Seungmin?” He smirked. “I feel like that’s a bit unfair. Making it seem like I’m the bad guy and all.”

You tried hard to make it seem like that hadn’t surprised you. You were so surprised by it that you didn’t have time to react when he yanked your letter from your hand.

“Such sweet words, all dedicated to him,” he mocked. “I think these people want to know.”

“Give it back!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes dull with embarassment.

Even if he wasn’t as tall as Seungmin, there was still a decent difference between you and him. And with a sly grin, he raised the paper above your head.

You licked your lips, anger filling your body.

“Give. It. Back.”

But then he started reading.

“I looked at him as if he were the Sun, in that I never looked at him except in frustration.” He read out loud, moving the paper from your reach everytime you tried to reach. “I seeked his warmth, I complained when he was gone, but I never looked, not until I noticed he was leaving, and in the beauty of the sunset, I wondered how I had never seen him before.”

You stared at the floor, a blush spreading through your cheeks, coming from your neck.

“And that’s basically what happened.” You mumbled to Abril and Lucas over at a bench in the school grounds, hours after that whole thing had happened.

“What?!” You flinched at Abril’s loud voice. “I’m going to kill him. I am so going to murder that nasty ass bitch.” She threatened to stand up, but Lucas grabbed her forearm.

“And what about Seungmin?” He questioned softly, a lot more gentle that what you usually would expect.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“I haven’t spoken to him since Friday” You stared at him with a weakness you had never felt before. “It’s like he doesn’t want to talk to me, I…” you sighed. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” You sniffed.

You had to stay in the study room for the afternoon, waiting for Atenea to get out of the club she was in so you could head to the library together like you had promised, but as you studied in silence, someone sat in the chair in front of you, frowning at you.

You took your headphones off and scratched your eyes. “Eh… Hyunjin?”

“Abril told Lara and she told me,” he mentioned in a huff. “And I’ve known Seungmin for many years. He’s not an impulsive guy. He hasn’t treated anyone like how he treats you.”

You blinked, puzzled, but frowned at him. “Are you going to scold me?”

“You better believe I am!” He scoffed. “Would you like me to politely tell you that you’ve behaved like a total idiot around him?”

“What are you—?!”

“You simply never bothered to talk to Seungmin about any of what Lara told me!” He stated with force, and you didn’t think to tell him to shut up, considering that the study room was empty that time.

“Do you really expect me to understand whatever was happening and tell him right away?” You blurted out with anger, a bit shocked at his rough approach. “Had I had the opportunity I would have!

He rolled his eyes, passing a hand over his face in a sign of desperation.

“You had every opportunity! For months!” He left his hand on the table, and started tapping at it with force, trying to make a point. “Admit it. Seungmin has been in your head ever since we both changed from the other class and you two started bickering.” Hyunjin’s eyes stared at you with a fierce glare that almost threatened to pierce holes through your skull.

“That’s bullshit!” You spitted out defensively.

“Oh, spare me!” He brushed it off. “There have been countless clues! Your stupid need to make everything a competition when it comes to him is infuriating. He talks to me about these things, you know?” He swallowed, and you leaned back in surprise, but he kept on going. “How you look at him when you’re angry, or how you mock and tease him back. It’s stupid!” He cursed out loud. “And these last two weeks have only made it so much worse.”

“What do you mean, worse?” You pondered softly, slowly taking in Hyunjin’s dramatic act.

“I mean, you were totally smitten by how he ridiculously kissed you at the back of the bus last week, considering that you kissed him back.” He stated clearly. “And he wouldn’t shut up about it and how you were ignoring him after, which, great fucking work, by the way, the dude wouldn’t shut up about you.” Hyunjin blinked slowly, trying to recall and voice what he was thinking. “And then he lends you his jacket when a mystery debutant shows up.”

“A—a what?”

“Motherfucker, eh, that Henry asshole.” Hyunjin rubbed his eyes. “I had to endure him talking shit about him for an hour because he saw him texting you some weird shit with cringe emojis.” The exasperation on his tone rendered you almost speechless. “And even then he struggled to admit how fucking jealous he was about that guy. He had your attention. He had your smile. You looked at Henry, not at Seungmin, and ah, for fuck’s sake.” Hyunjin covered his face with his hands. “He felt so ridiculously powerless that he talked to me about it. He’s never done that before!”

You were only able to blink, struggling to grasp everything he was saying.

“And then, with no word of warning, you called him, at, what, like, one in the morning?” Hyunjin said in a huff, the thought of that bringing back his anger, making him stare at you with a frown again. “He, jesus, he talked for AGES about how you hugged him, and the fact that you were wearing his jacket, like— like you’re doing now, what the fuck.” He stopped mid-scolding, staring at you with confusion.

“It’s… it’s his?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly as he nodded. “What, you didn’t know? You helped him with tecnical drawing, he gave you his jacket, bla bla bla. That whole thing?”

You blushed, shaking your head sideways. You had done what?

“Nevermind. You can talk to him about that later.”

It was your turn to scoff now. “Judging by the fact that he sent you, I don’t think he would like to see me anytime soon.”

Hyunjin chuckled dryly.

“Don’t you even dare keep ignoring him. This stupid game has lasted for too long. Besides, he doesn’t know I’m here. He thinks I’m in dance practice, but whatever. You needed to know, because he’s a mess.” Hyunjin stated, passing a hand through his hair. “He can’t sleep well, he can’t concentrate, he can’t do anything.”

It looked like the scolding was over, but there was a remaining anger that came back to him as a memory struck.

“And, moreover, you callously ignored the letter Seungmin wrote you, even though he told you he loved you!”

You were looking at your notebook on the table, halfly staring at your nails and fidgeting with them, but your head almost snapped when you stared at him.

“What letter?” You muttered, your eyes locked on his. He frowned, his eyes slightly widening.

Your heart started beating faster, almost so loud you could hear it in your head.

“Hyunjin, what letter?!”

[☆★🌷★☆]

Seungmin felt his lungs on fire.

Run, run, run.

His feet were hurting, because his old ass shoes were busted enough that their insides were almost destroyed from everyday use.

But he needed to find you.

Maybe it was because it was Valentine’s day, despite the obvious influence that a certain friend of yours had done.

“Wait, you— you missed school this morning?” Lucas had muttered with a puzzled look, eyes wide.

“I had to go to the dentist to take my braces off. Yeah.” Seungmin stated again. “So whatever you meant by ‘being an ignoring bitch this morning’, I know nothing about it.”

And then someone next to them had chimed in. “You’re talking about Henry and what happened this morning with—“

“Yeah. Why?” Seungmin had interrupted, frowning slightly.

“There’s a video of it.”

Run, run, run.

The look in your eyes when you spoke with Henry. Your smug smile when you caught him by surprise.

Your poem.

His eyes had widened when Henry started reading it in the video.

Was it…?

Could it…?

Could it really be for him?

He wanted needed to find out.

He needed to find you.

“Watch where you’re going!” A man grunted at him, and Seungmin quickly apologized, running off.

Run, run, run.

He knew where you lived just because of Friday, when you had asked him if he could head towards your house with you, still a bit scared from what had happened. He accepted in a heartbeat, reassuring you that it was fine with a million smiles.

His hand had never left yours. Your touch, colder than his, had something so adicting to it that he didn’t want to let go.

Time seemed to pass slowlier when he recognized your neighbourhood. He was about to ring on your floor, but then, your silhouette got out of the elevators, and you both blinked at each other, staring through the glass door.

You opened it slowly, approaching him.

The look in your eyes was different than what Seungmin was used to.

It wasn’t similar to how you had looked at him ever since the school year started, with a shimmer of anger that turned your cheeks pink. Or how you had looked at him that afternoon in the back of the school bus, pupils dark and lips red and slightly swollen from kissing. Or how your eyes glowed in hope and comfort that Friday night.

It was different. He wanted to savour it. He wanted to see every detail of it.

He walked towards you and cradled your face in his hands.

“Wait.” He muttered in a whisper, taking off his glasses in a movement that to you felt almost enticing.

“What is it?” You whispered back.

He blinked at you as he cleaned his glasses with the hem of his shirt.

“You’re fucking blurry.” He snickered softly, with a sheepish smile that tinted his cheeks pink.

You giggled.

He settled his glasses back in place, and smiled when your image made sense before him.

“Better.” He muttered.

“Seungmin, I—“

But you stopped speaking when his lips crashed against yours.

There it was. He tasted sweet like how hot chocolate tastes in a rainy day. You smiled at your discovery, wanting to taste it for hours.

He wanted to kiss you for days to come, even if there was a million things left for both of you to say.

“I’m sorry.” Kiss. “I wasn’t in school this morning.” Kiss. “But I saw a video of it.” Kiss. “And I needed to—“

You giggled, taking his glasses and settling them on the top of his head.

“We can do the talking later.” You smiled, your cheeks red as your hands grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Are you sure?” He gulped, blushing too as he mumbled.

“Yeah.” You smiled even more. “I’d rather do the kissing now.”

You'd never know what happened with his letter. But considering where that had lead you, maybe it wasn't totally bad that the wind had carried it out the window.

[☆★🌷★☆]

~Kats, who, believe it or not, took the text argument in the beginning from an old school groupchat (yes i was the target akbdksbdks idk why lol, but no, i did not have an enemies2lovers :( lmao)

HAPPY FUCKING VALENTINES DAY!

TAGGING! (oh wow) @that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick @deadcrow-donteat @obyyyy @euphoric-univers @aslou @19marka @daisyjihannie @im-loco66 @coolbabydumplings @amarecerasus @sharonxdevi @han-to-my-minho @abbiespooks @moon0fthenight @koala-wonderland @hecrtful @hheesungsung @vampcharxter @kpopandblunts @daisy-dont-play @skz-lover21 @skyl1nninie @lunathewonyoungstan @5starlee @pchyyhoe @4ln-stay8 @michelle4eve (bolded and/or purple means it won’t let me tag you, pookies! please check your blog’s privacy settings <3)

[moriartyluver]

Hello🙋 it's me yet again. How's it going?

Are you still taking requests? If you aren't, please ignore this.

If you are, could I please request a William x Reader oneshot? I got inspired by that poker chapter (I hate Johnson).

So, one night, William, Albert, Moran and Bond decide to play poker, and the winner will be recieving a kiss from William's wife (they somehow persuaded her to do it💀). So, William pulls some intelligent shit (I'm stupid, ok?) and obviously wins. Bonus, he asked reader to sit in his lap for good luck🤭.

I really hope this is not confusing and thank you very much! ❤️🥰

A/N: I’m still taking requests dw 😭 this request got me giggling and blushing omg 🤭 I’d sell my soul to get to sit on liams lap 🛐 (I hate Johnson too)

Character(s): William James Moriarty x fem! Reader

Format: oneshot

Genre: fluff + spicy

Prompt: above^^

Warnings: established relationship (marriage), reader is female, gambling??, a little bit spicy. Way too short 😞

“POKER?”

“That’s right, darling. We’d invite you to join but..” William trailed off as you scanned the table. Fred and Louis were observing while Bond, your husband, Moran and Albert were all sat around a table, the poker set out.

“But what?” You asked, feeing slightly left out. “Because I’m a woman?” You were half joking but everyone knew that playing games like cards or poker were not very ladylike.

Bond shook his head “You’re the prize, (nickname). The prize can’t be playing because then what shall you get if you win? It’d make more sense for you to watch instead.”

You raised a brow in confusion. You? The prize? What on earth was that supposed to mean?

“When you say it like that, it makes you sound perverted.” Moran commented from beside Bond, a subtle smirk on his face.

You look over to William as if demanding an explanation. He smiled sheepishly, it wasn’t him who had declared the bet and he’d much rather not have you on the line.

“What Bond meant to say was that the winner is supposed to get a kiss from, you, (name).” Albert explained with a smug look and a sip of wine as usual, watching his little brother furrow his eyebrows in slight irritation from beside him. “Nothing too extreme, just a little peck on the cheek.”

Clearly he had some of not all the responsibility of creating the prize. Albert wasn’t as much of a mastermind as William was, but God, he had the tendency to meddle and scheme in other peoples lives whenever it could provide entertainment.

You looked at him with wide eyes. “I didn’t agree to this! You can go bet on something else,” then you paused “Nevermind that, as the lady of the house, I’d much rather not have any gambling take place within the estate, or anywhere for that matter. Haven’t you learned anything after that run in with Mr Johnson?”

“Oh don’t be like that, (name), it’s just for fun.” Moran laughed, although there was a slightly guilty tone in his voice, like a child caught misbehaving “Besides, we all know Louis acts more like the lady of the house much more than you do.”

Louis glared at the colonel then rolled his eyes while you held back a snort from his reaction.

You sighed begrudgingly “If you insist..but if I do, then the loser has to do all of my chores for the next month.”

“Two weeks.” Louis negotiated with a stern look.

“Deal.”

Fred was about to pull a stool out for you to sit on but was stopped by William calling out to you. He had his evil (yet attractive) little mischievous smile on so you knew he was planning no good. Chances were, he was probably going to win if Moran didn’t cheat as usual but with a kiss from you up for grabs, he had become even more competitive and determined to win. Both because he adored any scrap of affection he could receive from you, and because he dreaded the idea of you kissing anyone but him, even if it was strictly platonic.

“Come sit here, my dear,” He said, patting his thigh. The corners of his lips were turned upwards “I need my lucky charm to help me win your affections.”

“Do I have to?” You groaned, clearly flustered by the idea.

“Please?” He pleaded, looking at you with a teasing yet innocent expression. You gave in, walking over to him and sitting on his lap while your husband wrapped his arm around your waist, securing you in place. You look at him as if to say ‘you’re lucky I love you.’

“L-Let the game commence.” You said, hoping not to draw attention to your flushed expression as you played off your stutter

“Damn.”

“Oooh, unlucky Bond,” Albert chuckled as James frowned at his loss.

It was finally William’s turn as he was sat beside Bond and the turns went clockwise.

“Your turn, dear.” You said, hand on his shoulder. You could see a smirk forming on his face. One that he would usually wear whenever he would bring corrupt nobles to justice or read of Sherlock’s work in the paper or whenever you would tease him. A smirk he would proudly wear with satisfaction.

You peer over to look at his cards, eyes widening momentarily. You look back at your lover’s face as his eyes land on you. William gives you a wink, ever so smug from what is seconds away from being a win. You had been observing him the entire game, and yet he still managed to get his way as usual.

His hand clutched his cards, ready to spread them over the table while his other hand caressed your waist, thumb massaging the soft flesh over your clothes.

Everyone had been waiting in anticipation, silently observing your reaction aswell as William’s. It was a general presumption that he would win though, partially due to his intellect, partially due to his possessive nature.

“Royal flush.” William stated nonchalantly as he spread his cards on the wooden table.

Moran tossed his cards to the ground in anger, clearly because he had the potential to win if William wasn’t so damn lucky (not for the sake of being kissed, just for the fact he was once again so close to beating William but just not close enough) James has his hand cupped in his cheek, glad Moran didn’t win whilst Albert could care less, he just wanted another glass of red wine.

William could only smile, hoping not to appear boastful despite how badly he wanted to brag, not because he won, but because you were going to kiss him. Although it seemed you had forgotten that now because of how proud you were that he won.

“It seems I’m much deserving of a prize now,” William whispered to you, pulling you closer to him “Don’t you agree my love? I did play so well just for you.”

You pause, recalling the original deal. You hesitantly nod, still annoyed that you were the prize because if you weren’t, you probably would have won anyways.

“Fine.” You groan, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

Except you don’t.

The cheeky bastard turned his head at just the right moment, possibly intentionally, for your lips to land on his. Wolf whistles echo through out the room along with a “get a room” from Moran who recovered from his loss.

You pull away gently, tapping William I’m a faux scolding manner before sticking your tongue out at Moran, about to hurl some insults before William kisses you once more.

[littlestarrys]

This is so funny oh god 🤣🤣🤣

Artist when they get a tsunami of followers:

[tare-anime]

I've watched Spy x Family Code White!!!!

And and ........!!!!

OmG!!!!

It's so totally awesome!!!

Tbh, I've never watched anime movie that good before!

I might be biased, but truly, it WAS so AWESOME that I'm planning to rewatch it (if I've ever managed to find extra free time)

My full with spoiler review under the cut

So first of all, the animation quality WAS top notch!

They way they draw scenery, background, lighting, camera movements. OmG!! I really love how WIT studio pay so much attention to details. And the smoothness of it.

The scenery of snowy mountains, sun light reflections through crystalize ice, the water...... wow!

And then there were the difference in way of drawing scenes. Like Anya's imagination was drawn so cartoony, meanwhile Yor's fiery 🔥🔥🔥 fight with type F was drawn with so much intensity, and Loid's stealthy fight was drawn with different color as if Loid was in different dimentions than the rest of the enemies because he was the only one in disguises.

This different way of drawing scenes kind of like Spiderman into the spiderverse, but not to that extent. Nevertheless, it's super awesome.

The foods!!! OmG! Those were detailed and awesome food drawings that make me drools 🤤🤤🤤 desserts, main courses, even snacks!! Wooooaaaa

The action!!! I bow down to the animators. WIT studio once again showing off their skills in drawing super awesome fight action scenes. They draw the character movements very well. Even Fiona get her short glimpse of action scene and that's awesome!

Loid's different action tones animation is super awesome, but I have to bow down and thank the animation team in making Yor (my queeeennn 🛐🛐) being super badass!!! The way she ended the fight with type F??? Guh..... I need all my will power not to screamed "That's my queen!!" in the middle of theatre 🤣

Of course like all anime movies out there, we have to lower our expectation regarding plots. (Plot? What plot? We're here to see the family awesomeness 🤣)

We can easily spot the re-use of plot from canon material but was shown in different font, such as:

Yor's jealousy towards Fiona, that leads her thinking she's inadequate mom and wife, that was a result from her overthink her 3 gossipers cowokers

Fiona's obsesiveness in trying to impress Twilight and becoming the Forger mother

Drunk Yor vs Twilight which ended with Yor sleeping

The super direct advance of Twilight that sucessfully making Yor super embarrases that her body instinc injured Loid

Super long and hiperbolic poop joke from Anya

(These managed to make us the audiences LOLed though 🤣🤣🤣)

Not to say, plot holes (?) Or plot that make you go "huh?", such as:

The super unnecessary idea of replacing Loid with other incompetent agent for a mission as important as Op.Strix

The possible stella from a cooking contest that end up all for nothing because of technicallity malfunction

Putting a very valuable microchip inside a common trunk, and all of a sudden was transported in a common train, leniently lying around in a place where a kid can meddle with it. Secured with only 1 very common key.

A secret recipe of dessert that is a secret but the restaurant owner can give the ingridients to stranger because the owner felt guilty that Anya's share was taken by a foodie adult with military power.

An old plane memento that somehow still in prime condition that can be used by Twilight to pursue Anya's kidnappers.

I can't be helped. The animators may not create something that might disturb canon stories afterall. So these plots were just there to drive the story forward, and forward the story goes!!

(Despite all the things I mentioned above, I still enjoyed the story well.)

And then, last but the most important things, the movie managed to deliver the family awesomeness so well!! The animators clearly know the character and character dinamics so very well. And I, again, bow down to them. 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

There are so many moments that will make you go "awwwwwww" and give you so much fluff and sweetness you'd have diabetes right away.

The way Loid always tried his best to give the best for the family, but he forget that the family IS the important one. And Yor was there to softly remind him of it. (This scene was so soft I really teared up 🥲🥲🥲🥲)

The way Anya tried her best to help her papa in acquiring the ingridients because that's the mission was, but eventually she got into trouble. And yet at the end Loid was still very proud of her.

The way Yor took care of Anya and play with her during the trip, the way she protected Anya during their initial fight and at the end of the fight (so many mother daughter moments!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰)

The difference way of fighting between Twilight and Thorn Princess. Like Twilight will go all stealth and disguises until he can't. Meanwhile Thorn Princess was just strorm right through the front door (or rear wall in this movie), demolishing everything while at the same time politely asking for her daughter and husband 🤣🤣🤣

The way all of family working together so that the plane didn't crash at the town, and the way they laugh (Yor and Anya were laughing out loud, meanwhile Loid was chuckling) when all of them managed to "safely" landed.

Good boy Bond always tried his best to support Anya and even galantly tried to defend her but alas, he was no match to human enemy. 🥲🥲

I was just 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

And really, Endo should take notes.

Because all of these are what make we love Forger family. And that it IS possible to make the family do a mission together without revealing their secrets. Like Loid's lousy excuses that make Yor went wooooww, Yor's even more lousy half lies that Loid believes just like that 🤣🤣🤣🤣 (these two omG!)

I also love how Anya as the captain of TwiYor ship actively pushing her parents. Yes Anya 🥰🥰🥰

I also love how the main villain able to recognize Twilight in disguises via the unusual scent. Like. Woa!! That is so possible!! I mean, latex should have a very distinctive smell afterall.

All in all, truly an amazing first movie!!! I do hope one day the anime team will continue to make amazing movies in the future. 🥰🥰🥰

[bittersweet-folder]

hi!

tell me your favourite writers on this app and what you love about their writing!

go!

Aww thank you for this question🌷♡♡. Here's the list <3

@hoshifighting :

I love her writing. When when I say it I really mean it. Her writing really portrays her creativity and style. They can be slow paced but they'll keep you hooked till the end (if you are patience). I love her slow burn fics as well. They are just so well written, like so very well written. And what really amuses me was her being so active from the start. Trust me I really want that being consistent about my writing but I just can't. And it's actually really tough to be consistent. And her smuts- hmmmmmmmmmmm imma be straight forward- they make me blush real bad also wet sometimes 🫶. 🌷

@pan-de-seungcheol :

Soo I've read many of her smuts before actually following her in this new blog i created after deleting my previous one. I may not read the angst fics (there's a reason behind it. Everyone have there own reasons) but I love love the smuts written by her. Pan your polyamory representation something I really loved because usually I see a negative representation of that. Your smuts make me wet, to state it quite straight forwardly. Your writing really does things to me (now why does this sounds like confession letter 😭). They are really well crafted. 🌷

@tomodachiii :

I discovered her fics recently and I'm in love. I love domestic scenarios especially when it has a really Asian household setting (because I live in one+ I'm the oldest daughter 🚶🏻‍♀️). And see if anything I feel seen but I really love the comforting feeling it gives me while reading them. Sure it leaves me with a bittersweet moment where I really do sit and think "wow it would be great if I actually experienced that kinda affection" but honestly that's how good writing is supposed to make you feel. I really admire her writing style. 🌷

@diorkyeom :

I love her writing style, her ideas, her fics, the plot everything literally. Her Seoksoo fics made me giggle, blush, bury my face and scream to the pillow and what not. I just lovee her way of portraying soft fluffy affectionate moments. I'll cry. I've even read her fics staying up late at night because Im fucking invested 😭. They are just so nice and sweet and soft. And the literature references she uses at times as well it makes me feel seen and happy. (Ps - I'm an English major who's first ever written fanfic was a Minwon fan fiction. It is not finished yet)🌷

Some more mentions for fluff writers (who may also post nsfw fics in their blogs too):

@seokminded : her writing style is simple yet very effective. Her fluff scenarios are so fucking cute I might cry😭🌷.

@wifeyoozi : your consistency in posting I swear🛐 . Im a big fan of your imaginess😩🌷. (Especially the nsfw ones they are like very very, idk I've lost words, they feel very real)

@onlyhaos : Liddy I'm soft for your writing. Your fluffs are so cuteeeeeee. AHHHHHJHHHHHHHHHHH okayyy take love😩🌷

@nonuify : I literally followed you few minutes ago and I have reblogged one of your nsfw imagine before. I really love them. Take love 🌷😩.

MAKE SURE TO CHECK THEM ALLL OUT Or I'll haunt you in your nightmares 😀.

[misti-chan]

Would a little Abyss x reader be alright? I tend to be clumsy and can be stupid at times, when my friends get their feelings hurt I will glare at the person and look at them in shame, also making sure that horrible person doesn’t go near them. So I think it would fit Abyss’ situation pretty well!

Weeeeeeee🙏🏻❤️🛐 Please & thank you🫶🏻

Let's go! I hope you'll like it! Just a little reminder for others, the requests are closed! As for friends you can always come into my dm's if you have an idea or want to do an exchange! ♥

ABYSS X READER SPECIAL FRIEND

Abyss doesn’t mind at all your clumsiness. On the contrary he finds it quite cute and always has a reason to save the day and become the hero of the situation with you as he has the habit of getting you out of trouble or stopping you even before your clumsiness settles in and creates troubles for the both of you. He loves seeing you forget your books or your pen, because he will gladly share his own with you and it makes the perfect opportunity to get close to you. However he doesn’t like to see you trip, fortunately he is always there to catch you before you stumble upon the floor. He is a true prince charming ready to swoon you over upon danger or your clumsiness in this case.

As for the stupidness, Abyss never thinks you are stupid, even though some people may think it. He always reminds you how perfect you are and how he is happy to have you in his life. He would totally fight for you if someone has the audacity to insult you or belittle you. After all you are his ray of sunshine, the only person who sees him as himself, not just his evil eye. So, as for him he will never call you stupid, or make it feel like it since for him you are a true beauty at heart. Only your kindness and altruism is important to him.

Abyss would be very grateful to have you in his life as you protect him from those people who keep harassing him. He is happy to finally have found someone who likes him for his personality and isn’t disgusted or afraid of him. But he kind of worries about you getting into trouble so he’ll be sure that those people won’t make it past him. In front of everyone you’re the one protecting him, but behind he is always aware of danger and will make all the efforts in the world to take care of you and make you feel and be safe.

With you Abyss is a stuttering mess. He loves you very much, but he cannot help it. He is entirely shy and completely fawning over you. After all he is very much in love with you for the first time in his life and hopes for the last time too. 

Overall Abyss is a true gentleman who loves you and is ready to go to great extent to keep you safe, even if he has to fight the whole world.  He feels so lucky to have you and he understands how important you are to him, so he would be totally clingy with you and following you around like a lost puppy to the point that Abel asks himself what is going on.

As for Abel, he is totally shipping you two, and is always there to support the two of you. He is glad to see that Abyss finally found someone worthy of fighting for. He wishes the two of you the best and always makes sure you are unbothered, or else the person importuning you is definitely going to have a bad time.

[gleamingtempest]

Post Mortem - I made an MV !

Hi. 👋

I made this MV:

It was a lot of fun.

It took me a very long time to complete - mainly because of my own ineptitude. ^^'

I had to restart the editing program I used. A lot.

Figuring out how to use the program adequately was a fun experience though. I'm going to make more MVs in the future.

As such, I'd like to invite everyone to send me asks for MVs, if they'd like to. I already know which character I'll be doing next, so in the meantime any song suggestions with specific characters are very helpful to me, since I only found this song for Ace on a whim.

My ultimate goal is to create an MV for every character in DRDT. I hope that everyone will find these MVs engaging & insightful, and I look forward to the process of creating them.

Thank you to everyone who supported this MV. 🛐

Please be well & take care. Bye now. : )

[belit0]

HIIIII<3333 How are you and how have you been. First, i need to praise you for such a good work you do, i really am impressed by your writing skills and how you write the characters so realistic and understandable. You truly have my respect especially for writing some characters like Madara or Indra are really complex to write because of their personality and they truly are complicated due their backstory. So thank you dearly for accepting requests and working on them. You truly have an unique writing style wich i do absolutely admire! Please keep up but don’t overwork yourself, rest is important and please remember to drink and eat enough. I love you so much and your blog is literally my favorite. ( You 🔛🔝) So actually i wanted to ask for a request. (A oneshot or a scenario please) About Madara watching his wife giving birth to his baby and how he sees his wife holding their new born in her arms. Please i am too curious cuz i really can’t Assess this man if he would cry at this sight or not😭. I woule appreciate if you would accept my request. But there is no need to. Feel free to ignore it, i still love your blog so much.

I swear your words touched me so much that I took a screenshot and saved the message in my private chat to read it whenever I need motivation, you brought tears to my eyes (literally)!!!

Thank you infinitely for your beautiful company and for supporting my modest work, I love to share what I do, especially if I have people who like it and enjoy it, it fills my soul to read words like that💕🙏💫🛐

I can never explain the appreciation I feel upon receiving this type of messages, it's a very powerful and big feeling, too strong and too deep for words.

Thank you so much, my beautiful nonny, for being around and keeping me company, please never go away, i love u😭💕💫

Now, going back to the request, OF COURSE MADARA CRIES, he's one of those persons who cries out of anger, it bothers him a lot because he feels weak but has a great facility for tears.

Now, what I did to him in this piece is a bit cruel, I apologize🤣🙏

He can't stop pacing the hallway, anxious and nervous, desperate because of the screams he hears on the other side of the door. The midwives demanded he stay out of the room to avoid creating more chaos, his distress palpable in the air every time he asked "Is she in a lot of pain? Is the baby okay? Is something wrong with (Y/N)?"

He was kicked out of the place to avoid putting more pressure on the poor women assisting with the delivery, and even as the clan leader, he was taken away the choice of whether to be part of the moment or not. It all pushes him so far over the edge he even resorts to taking off his gloves and chewing his nails like he's 15 years old again.

"You look like crap, Aniki." Izuna comments with a smirk on his face, openly mocking his poor older brother. Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, he looks at him with amusement and even a bit of pity.

As always, his Otouto accompanies him.

"No shit." He snorts in anguish, tearing the skin off his finger and hissing from the burning. He may be the strongest warrior of all his time, but he can't help the little mundane aches and pains of day to day life.

"What's got you so bad? It's just a baby." He reaches out to him as if to lay a hand on his shoulder, but stops before doing so, knowing the outcome, clicking his tongue at how fickle fate is.

Staring at the ground and swapping the tortured finger for a new one, he fails to get out from inside his mind, raise his head, react. Worry consumes him, and (Y/N)'s screams of agony don't help. "Exactly that. I couldn't protect anyone, I couldn't protect you, I won't be a good father, what if-"

"Wowowo, hold your horses, Aniki. You couldn't protect me because I wouldn't let you, if anyone was going to take that idiot down it was me. We talked about it many times, didn't we?" He stands in front of him, unable to get his older brother out of his vicious cycle of insane thoughts, and crouches down to the ground to meet the path of his eyes. He smiles at him again, an act that always manages to get Madara's attention, and he finally listens to him.

"Did you think of a name? That'll be your job if it's a boy." Madara jumps in a startled gasp as (Y/N) screams louder than ever, and looks at the door separating them as if wanting to set it on fire. Respecting the midwives' wishes feels stupid, but neither does he want to get in the way of things he doesn't understand.

"Izuna." He answers without moving his eyes from the spot, walking and avoiding his younger brother like he couldn't just walk right through him. He moves a little closer to the door, waiting.

"What?" The younger Uchiha gets up, and moves back to stand next to him, not understanding.

"Izuna, for the name."

"You want to give your precious baby my terrible name? You'll doom him to be a beautiful mess."

"Tribute, so he'll always remember the uncle he never knew." And at the moment his eyes fill with sadness and melancholy, his brother decides to change the course of the situation.

"If you want to pay tribute to me, take him to visit my grave and drink sake over my remains, you idiot. I say you name him Inari, I always thought it was beautiful."

"Inari..."

"Sounds nice doesn't it? It's a good one to scold him after he gets in trouble, which I'll make sure he does."

"Will the baby be able to see you?"

"We'll find out."

"MADARA-SAMA!" the door suddenly opens, one of the midwives coming out agitated "THE BABY IS COMING, SOON!" She demands him to re-enter the room, and Madara looks at his brother for encouragement.

He smiles at him again, and that's all he needs to know that everything will be okay.

The makeshift delivery room, on the other hand, is a mess. Several women run around moving bloody towels and trying to wipe the sweat from (Y/N)'s forehead. One holds her hand tightly as his wife pushes and pushes, legs spread wide and revealing a picture both terrible and wonderful.

"MADARA-SAMA!" the midwife shoves him from behind to the side of the bed where she attempts to deliver their child, unafraid to be rough with the clan leader. Madara, unable to react, grabs the hand that was previously held by another woman, as he stares at her belly and can do nothing but try to hold back tears.

Paralyzed by inoperability and not knowing what to do, the Uchiha feels useless, incapable of helping or assisting in any way. His expertise is in fighting, combat, violence, he has no idea how to act in sensitive situations or those that require emotional intelligence. He is afraid to say something inappropriate, something that will upset (Y/N), and cannot find the strength to speak without crying.

No one told him he would feel this way, an experience so surreal as to make him break down.

The last time he cried disconsolately was with his brother's death, years ago, but his child's birth seems to challenge him in the same way, the miracle of life and the product of his own dedication coming to reward him, demanding him to pour out all his feelings through tears, no shame for being in front of strangers.

Everything seems to disappear around him, focused only on his wife and the task ahead. The stupor washes away little by little, getting into the game and helping her get through the experience as best he can.

At one point he thinks to be speaking words of encouragement, but has no track of what is going on. The image of (Y/N) suffering, crying, screaming, stirs him to the core of his very being, wishing he could take away her agony and be the one to endure this odyssey.

He holds her hand with both of his, while between his wife's legs two midwives demand further pushing. Everything is chaos, a maelstrom of speed where Madara can only concentrate on her, until he suddenly hears it.

The most beautiful cry he has ever witnessed, a small, high-pitched sound coming from a tiny baby in one of the midwives' arms. (Y/N)'s face automatically relaxes, ready to faint from exertion and exhaustion, yet she whispers "Hold the child" before smiling with genuine joy.

Madara, following orders while being totally out of his comfort zone, receives the newborn in his arms, and what was once silent tears now turns into unrestrained crying.

He crumbles in front of his baby for different reasons, moved and overwhelmed for having been able to produce something so beautiful, so delicate, after destroying and murdering as much as he did. That adorable little human being is proof enough, at least for him, of not being a disastrous person, for there being hope and kindness in his destiny, able to repent for all the lives he stole on the battlefield.

Izuna's death brought him great resentment for the world, condemning him to anger and rage as a way of life, willing to destroy whoever it takes to regain what was lost, yet (Y/N) saved him from an avoidable catastrophe, and showed him he could be more than his grief, giving him the tools to move on.

Holding the result of such pure and generous love in his hands is the mythical demonstration of how the blood on his hands is washable, how his past does not define him, and how his future is not marked by eternal pain.

The thrill of a better life engulfs him completely, as he stares with pure affection at the child he himself created. His son, utterly his, the most beautiful ray of sunshine. "Inari..." he whispers between sobs, and brings him closer to his wife for reconnection with his mother.

Upon reassuring (Y/N) is no longer bleeding and there are no further problems to worry about, the women begin to leave the room, carrying lots of bloody sheets and towels, cleaning the space little by little and giving privacy to the new family.

One of them takes the newborn for close examination, and when the room finishes clearing of people, Madara can see Izuna near his baby, making sure the midwife treats him well and takes proper care of his little Inari.

He can't help but cry again at the image, knowing his son will always have a guardian angel with him.

[talesofwilsper]

Thank you random person on Tw!tterdotcom for creating this masterpiece right after my random QRT moment 🛐✨

[mysteria157]

Hi Courtney!!

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

🥑 ⇢ you accidentally killed somebody, which mutual(s) do you text for help?

🐇 ⇢ do you prefer writing original characters, reader inserts, or a mix of both? 

My sweet Rahu! hi hi!!! Thank you for the asks. *rolls up sleeves*

1. 👿🍆🪽🛐🔥

2. To be honest, I would not want to burden someone else with a crime that I committed. But if I absolutely had to, I would text you simply to ask for “blanket” advice without giving myself away LOL.

3. A mix of both! I focus mainly on reader inserts now but there are times where my backstories and characterizations can blur the line between reader an OC. I’ve created a few OCs with my first story and really loved it, and I would like to try that again in future WIPs because usually my stories are very reader and MC focused.

Thank you for the asks 🥺

[aguz-cm]

Not really big fan of bottom Kakuzu. That said... you really changed my mind. Like madam, you have no right to do that to me! Convert me on your side. I'm officially obsessed! Read all your stories (still need to comment on them), created an X account just for your art, and today finally subscribed to your Patreon. And let me tell you... worth every penny! (If there is someone just slightly considering, DO IT!) So yeah, obsessed is the right word (just level down from stalking). Keeps going. Sending all love and support.

OMGG I was just going about my day and then I saw this message and it put the biggest smile on my face 😭💜💜 Thank you so much for your kind words and for joining my Patreon!! Hope you like all the spicy food you see there 🤭

Also, I’m glad to know I’m converting you to the bottom Kakuzu cult haha! Most people don't like it, but this gorgeous man deserves to be worshipped in every way possible 🛐