#there's this certain aching feeling that i really needed to portray here

[titaniumions]

now, all i want is ...

[starskq]

TREAT YOU BETTER / C.S

Pairing ◊ sub!fem!reader x softdom!san (ft. Yeonjun of TXT)

Genre ◊ SMUT, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers

Warnings ◊ SMUT (MINORS DNI), softdom!San, sub!reader, oral (male receiving), fingering, a little rough, san is quite big, dirty talk, pet names (baby, sweetheart...), talk about an abusive relationship, emotional vulnerability, aftercare, unprotected sex (if you see anything I haven't put in there, please lmk!)

Word count ◊ 7,2k

Summary ◊ You show up in the middle of the night at San's apartment after your bf Yeonjun broke up with you, but what you do not know is how San is so unconditionally in love with you.

a/n: I portrayed Yeonjun in a certain way here, but don't come for me! I'm a MOA too!

You and San had been best friends for as long as you could remember. Growing up together, sharing secrets and dreams, it was no surprise that you felt entirely at home in his company. San's presence had always been a constant, a comforting backdrop to your life. However, what you hadn't noticed was the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his smile softened when you laughed. He had fallen for you long ago, but he never had the courage to admit it—not to himself, and certainly not to anyone else.

Meanwhile, you had been dating Yeonjun for a few months. At first, everything seemed perfect. He was charming, attentive, and everything you thought you wanted. But as time went on, Yeonjun's true colors began to show. He treated you poorly, his words often harsh and his actions thoughtless. Despite the growing cracks in your relationship, you clung to the hope that things would get better. They never did.

One Friday night, after a particularly brutal argument, Yeonjun broke up with you. His words were cruel, his tone biting, and you were left feeling utterly shattered. Unable to face the emptiness of your apartment, you found yourself standing outside San's door at midnight, your face wet with tears. 

You gently knocked at his door and San opened the door, his eyes widening in shock when he saw you. ‘’Y/n? What happened?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you just shook your head, tears streaming down your face. He was quick to take you in his arms, enveloping you in a warm hug before guiding you to his couch. 

"Talk to me," he urged softly, sitting beside you.

You took a deep breath, struggling to find your voice. "Yeonjun... he broke up with me," you finally managed to say, your voice trembling. "We had an awful fight. He was so mean.’’

San's eyes darkened with anger. "That bastard. What did he say to you?’’

You shook your head again, not wanting to recount the hurtful words. "It doesn't matter. I just... I couldn't stay there.’’

San clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "I want to go over there and beat him up. He has no right to treat you like this.’’

"No, San," you said quickly, placing a hand on his arm. "Please don't. It's not worth it. I just need you right now.’’

His expression softened instantly. "Okay. I'm here for you," he promised, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. You buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence. He stroked your hair gently, whispering soothing words.

"You deserve so much better," he murmured. "Yeonjun is an idiot for letting you go.’’

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "Do you really think so?’’

"I know so," San replied firmly. "You're amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have you.’’

A small smile tugged at your lips despite the pain. "Thank you, San. You're the best friend anyone could ask for.’’

San's heart ached at your words, but he forced a smile. "Anything for you," he said softly. He wished he could tell you how he really felt, how much he loved you, but he didn't want to risk losing your friendship.

San watched as you tried to find comfort on the couch. He hated seeing you like this, so broken and vulnerable. Determined to lift your spirits, even if just a little, he pulled the blanket around you more snugly.

"Hey," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "How about we try to take your mind off things for a bit?’’’

You sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. ‘’How?’’

San thought for a moment, then smiled. "Remember that time in middle school when we tried to bake a cake for your mom's birthday and ended up setting off the fire alarm?’’

You couldn't help but chuckle at the memory. "Yeah, and the cake was half-burnt, half-raw.’’

"Exactly! And your mom still said it was the best cake she'd ever had because we made it with 'extra love and a dash of chaos,'" San added, grinning.

A small smile played on your lips. "She was always so supportive.’’

San nodded, his eyes twinkling. "She still is. Just like you have so many people who care about you.’’

You sighed, leaning against him. "It's just hard, you know? I really thought Yeonjun was different.’’

"I know," San said, his voice gentle. "But sometimes people aren't who we hope they are. And that’s not your fault.’’ He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. "You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are and treats you with the love and respect you deserve.’’

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling a bit of the tension leave your body. "Thanks, Sannie. I don't know what I'd do without you.’’’

He squeezed your shoulder. "You'd do just fine. You're strong, even if you don't always feel like it.’’

For the next hour, San kept talking, sharing funny stories from childhood and moments that made you both laugh until your sides hurt. He reminded you of the time he tried to impress you by jumping off the highest diving board at the pool, only to belly-flop spectacularly. Or the time you both got lost during a school trip and ended up finding a hidden ice cream parlor that became your secret spot.

"Remember when we made that secret handshake?" he asked, his eyes bright with amusement.

You nodded, a real smile breaking through. "We thought we were so cool.’’

"We were cool," he insisted, demonstrating the complex series of claps and snaps you had created. "We still are.’’

You laughed, following along with the handshake. It felt good to laugh, even if just for a moment. San's presence was like a balm to your wounded heart, his affection and kindness wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

The night wore on, and though the pain of Yeonjun's words still lingered, it was dulled by San's unwavering support. He stayed by your side, talking and laughing. 

San, ever attentive, noticed how your eyes struggled to stay open.

"You look exhausted," he said softly, his hand still gently rubbing your back. ‘’You wanna stay over? You could take my bed.’’

You nodded, stifling a yawn. "I am, but I don't want to take your bed from you. I can sleep on the couch, it’s fine »

San shook his head, his expression firm. "No way. You need a proper bed to sleep in, and you're not arguing with me on this.’’ You tried to protest, but he held up a hand, silencing you. "I insist. Come on, let's get you settled."

He stood up and offered you his hand, helping you to your feet. You were honestly too tired to argue with him, you knew how stubborn he could be. As you reached his bedroom, he pulled back the covers and motioned for you to enter. You hesitated, looking at him with a mixture of gratitude and guilt.

"You sure?" you asked, your voice small.

"Positive," he replied firmly. "Now, get in."

You slid into the bed, the soft sheets feeling like a haven after the emotional turmoil of the night. San tucked the blanket around you, his movements gentle and caring.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked, his voice low and soothing.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. "No, this is perfect. Thank you, San."

He nodded, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You're welcome. Try to get some rest, okay? I'll be right outside if you need anything."

You reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly. "You're really the best, you know that?"

San's smile was soft, his eyes filled with unspoken emotions. "I just want you to be okay. Sleep well."

With that, he turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You listened to his footsteps as he walked back to the living room, your heart was fluttering. He was just so affectionate and caring. 

San settled onto the couch, pulling the blanket over himself. The couch was familiar, a place he'd often crashed after late-night gaming sessions or movie marathons. But tonight, it felt different. Tonight, he was acutely aware of you in his bed, just a room away, and the vulnerability you'd shown him.

San lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, unable to find any semblance of sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, images of you crying and hurt flashed through his mind. He was consumed by a mix of anger and helplessness, hating Yeonjun for what he'd done to you.

He tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, but nothing seemed to work. His mind was too restless, his heart too full of unresolved emotions. He glanced at the clock—2:30 AM. With a frustrated sigh, he sat up, running a hand through his hair.

In the quiet of the living room, the sudden sound of a notification startled him. He looked over and saw your phone on the coffee table, its screen glowing with a new message. Curiosity and concern got the better of him, and he leaned over to see who it was.

It was a message from Yeonjun.

San's jaw clenched as he read the words on the screen:

[Junnie] I hope you're happy. You always find a way to make everything my fault. Good luck with this one.

San felt a surge of anger so intense it made his hands shake. He couldn't believe the audacity of Yeonjun to send such a cruel message after everything he'd put you through. It took every ounce of self-control not to grab his keys and march over to Yeonjun's place right then and there.

Instead, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He knew that confronting Yeonjun wouldn't help you right now. You needed him here, not out picking a fight. But he couldn't just ignore the message either. He needed to find a way to protect and shield you from more pain.

He stared at your phone, contemplating whether to wake you up and tell you about the message. But you had finally found some peace, and he didn't want to disturb that. Instead, he decided to keep an eye on your phone for any more messages, ensuring nothing else would upset you tonight.

San stood up, pacing the living room, his mind racing. He needed to focus on something else, anything to keep from stewing in his anger. He went to the kitchen and made himself a cup of chamomile tea, hoping it might help him relax. As he waited for the water to boil, he replayed the night's events in his mind.

"Why can't he just leave her alone?" San muttered to himself, pouring the hot water over the tea bag. "Hasn't he done enough damage?"

He took a sip of the tea, its warmth doing little to soothe his frayed nerves. He wished he could do more for you, wished he could take away all the hurt and replace it with happiness. But he knew that healing took time, and all he could do was be there for you every step of the way.

San returned to the couch, setting the tea on the coffee table. He picked up your phone again, staring at Yeonjun's message. Without thinking, he typed out a reply:

[You] She deserves better than you. Leave her alone.

But he didn't send it. He deleted the message, knowing it wasn't his place to intervene directly. Instead, he placed your phone back on the table and sat down, his head in his hands. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

Lost in thought, he nearly jumped when he heard the soft sound of your footsteps approaching. He turned to see you standing in the doorway, looking small and vulnerable in the dim light.

"Sannie, are you still awake?" you asked quietly, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Yeah, I'm awake," he replied, his heart softening as he looked at you. "What's wrong? Do you need something?"

You hesitated, glancing down at your feet before meeting his eyes. "I... I don't want to be alone right now. Can you... can you come to bed with me?"

San's heart skipped a beat. You and he had shared a bed before, back in the days when sleepovers and movie marathons ended with both of you crashing wherever you could. But this felt different, more intimate. He could feel his emotions bubbling up, threatening to spill over.

He took a deep breath, pushing his feelings aside. This wasn't about him; it was about you needing comfort. "Of course," he said gently. "I'll be right there."

You gave him a small, grateful smile, and he followed you back to the bedroom. The room was filled with a soft, calming silence,.

San watched as you climbed back into bed, settling under the blankets. He hesitated momentarily before joining you, lying down on the other side. The bed dipped slightly under his weight, and he turned to face you, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, looking at him with a mixture of relief and gratitude. "Yes, thank you. I just... I didn't want to be alone tonight."

"I understand," San said softly. "I'm here for you."

You reached out and took his hand, holding it tightly. The simple gesture sent a rush of warmth through him, and he squeezed your hand in return.

"Do you remember all those sleepovers we used to have?" you asked, your voice tinged with nostalgia.

San smiled, nodding. "Yeah, of course. We used to stay up all night talking and laughing."

You sighed contentedly. "Those were some of the best times. I always felt so safe with you."

San's heart ached with the weight of his unspoken feelings. "And you still are safe with me. Always."

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the gentle sound of your breathing. San struggled internally, fighting the urge to confess everything he felt. But he knew this wasn't the time. You needed comfort, not complications.

San lay there, the steady rhythm of your breathing filling the room. He tried to calm his racing thoughts, but it was nearly impossible with you so close to him. The familiar warmth of your body pressed against his was something he had experienced countless times before, yet tonight it felt different—intensely different.

Every breath you took, every slight movement you made, seemed to send sparks of awareness through him. He could feel the rise and fall of your chest against his side, your head resting on his shoulder, and it was driving him to distraction. He knew it was wrong to feel this way, especially now, but he couldn't help it. The closeness, the intimacy of the moment, was turning him on in a way he hadn't expected.

He tried to shift slightly, hoping to ease the tension in his body, but it only seemed to make things worse. You stirred, tightening your grip on his hand and snuggling closer. San's heart pounded in his chest, and he swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing.

"San?" you murmured sleepily, your voice a soft whisper in the darkness.

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice tight with the effort of keeping his emotions in check.

"Are you okay?" you asked, concern evident even through your drowsiness.

San forced a smile, even though you couldn't see it. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... a lot on my mind."

You shifted slightly, your leg brushing against his. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through him, and he had to bite his lip to stifle a groan. "You can talk to me, you know. I'm here for you, too."

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I know. It's just... it's nothing. Really."

You were quiet for a moment, your fingers gently tracing patterns on the back of his hand. As you drifted back into sleep, San lay there, his body tense and his mind racing. He couldn't understand why he felt so different this time. You had always been affectionate with each other, cuddling during movie nights or sleepovers, but tonight, the feeling was overwhelming.

He tried to distract himself, focusing on the sound of the rain tapping gently against the window, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you. The way your hair felt against his cheek, the warmth of your breath on his neck, the soft curves of your body nestled against his.

"Get a grip, San," he muttered to himself, trying to push the thoughts away. "This isn't the time."

But the more he tried to ignore it, the more aware he became of every tiny detail. The subtle scent of your shampoo, the softness of your skin, the way you fit perfectly against him. It was driving him crazy, and he didn't know how much longer he could take it.

You shifted, turning your back to him. For a brief moment, he thought the change in position might help him regain some control over his tumultuous emotions. But then you moved closer, pressing your back firmly against his chest. Instinctively, he wrapped his arm around you, his hand resting gently on your stomach.

The intimacy of the position made his heart pound. Your body was so close, so warm, and he could feel every curve pressed against him. His mind raced, and he struggled to keep his breathing steady.

You sighed contentedly, snuggling closer. The movement pressed your body even tighter against his, and he felt a surge of heat rush through him. His mind screamed at him to keep it together, but the sensation of your curves against his chest, the softness of your body, was making it incredibly difficult. He could feel himself getting harder and harder. 

He closed his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the feel of you in his arms. He thought about the cold night air, the sound of the rain outside, anything to distract himself from the intoxicating closeness. But every time you shifted slightly, it sent another wave of awareness through him.

As you continued to shift and wiggle, seeking a comfortable position, it became increasingly difficult. Each movement pressed your body closer against him, and he could feel every curve, every contour, of your form against his. It was driving him mad.

You shifted again, your back pressing firmly against his chest, your hips moving slightly. San's breath hitched, and despite his best efforts, he felt himself getting harder. He clenched his jaw, trying to will away the arousal, but it was no use. Your absent-minded movements were too much for him to handle.

‘’Y/n, please stop moving,’’ he whispered hoarsely, his voice strained with the effort of keeping control.

You froze, the sudden tension in his voice startling you. Then you felt it—a hard, undeniable pressure against your lower back. Your eyes widened as realization dawned.

"San..." you whispered, turning your head slightly to look at him over your shoulder. "Is that...?"

San's face flushed with embarrassment. ‘’Fuck, I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

You could see the discomfort and shame in his eyes, and something inside you shifted. You felt a surge of confidence, an unexpected boldness. You turned fully to face him, your heart pounding. Without saying a word, you reached down and placed your hand over his hardness, feeling the heat and firmness through the fabric.

San's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in shock. ‘’Y/n, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You met his gaze, your own eyes filled with a mix of determination and desire. "I want this too," you said softly, your hand gently squeezing him through his pants.

San's heart raced, but he hesitated, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. "You don't have to," he said, his voice strained. "I don't want you to feel pressured or like you owe me anything. Especially not after everything with Yeonjun."

You shook your head, your eyes softening. "San, I want this. I want you."

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "But I feel like I'm taking advantage of you. You're vulnerable right now, and I don't want to be another person who hurts you."

You looked at him, your expression serious. "San, you could never hurt me. The real reason Yeonjun and I broke up... it was because of you."

San's eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean?"

You sighed, feeling a weight lift as you prepared to share the truth. "Yeonjun was always jealous of our relationship. He couldn't understand how important you are to me. Last night, he asked me to choose between him and you.’’

San's heart skipped a beat. "And you chose me?"

"Without hesitation," you said firmly. "He couldn't accept that. He accused me of loving you more than him, and honestly, he was right. I do love you more."

San stared at you, a mix of emotions swirling in his eyes. "I had no idea," he whispered. "I never wanted to come between you two."

"You didn't," you replied, your voice steady. "Yeonjun did that himself. And when he forced me to choose, it made me realize just how much you mean to me."

San's heart ached with the weight of your words. "I never wanted to admit it, but I've always loved you," he confessed, his voice trembling. "But I was afraid of ruining our friendship."

You smiled, your eyes shining with tears. "You could never ruin it, San. You've always been there for me, through everything. And now, I want to be here for you."

San felt a surge of emotion, a mix of relief, joy, and overwhelming love. He reached out, cupping your face in his hands, his touch tender. "I love you," he said, his voice filled with sincerity and passion.

"I love you too," you replied, your voice a whisper.

He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. When you didn't, he pressed his lips to yours in a tender, lingering kiss. The sensation was electric, sending shivers down your spine. His lips were soft yet firm, moving against yours with a careful, loving precision. It was a kiss filled with years of pent-up emotions, a kiss that spoke of friendship, love, and unspoken desires.

San's hand moved to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss slightly. You could feel his breath mixing with yours, the warmth of his body so close to yours. Every touch, every movement was deliberate, as if he were memorizing the feel of you.

As the kiss continued, it grew more intense. The emotions that had been building up inside both of you for so long now found their release. His kisses became more urgent, his lips moving against yours with a newfound hunger. He tilted his head to gain better access, his tongue slipping out to gently trace your lower lip before seeking entrance.

You parted your lips, allowing him in, and a soft moan escaped from deep within your throat. The kiss was no longer just an expression of love but a claim. San's tongue explored your mouth, tasting and teasing, and you responded with equal fervor, meeting his passion with your own.

San's hands began to roam your body, his touch both gentle and possessive. He ran his fingers down your sides, feeling the curves of your waist and hips. His hands slid under your shirt, the warmth of his palms against your skin sending sparks of desire through you.

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with awe. 

He shifted, hovering over you, his body pressing you gently into the mattress. The weight of him felt comforting and exciting all at once. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull your shirt over your head, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of you.

"So perfect," he whispered, his voice husky. "You're perfect, baby."

You shivered at the pet name, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you. "San," you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him back down for another kiss.

This kiss was even more heated, filled with an urgency that left you both breathless. San's hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of your body with a mix of tenderness and possession. He cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, drawing a gasp from your lips.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" he asked, his voice low and rough with desire.

"Yes," you moaned, arching into his touch. "So good, Sannie."

He smiled against your lips, pleased with your response. "I want to make you feel amazing," he murmured, kissing a trail down your neck. "You deserve to be worshipped.’’

San's kisses trailed down your body, his lips and tongue leaving a path of fire in their wake. He paused at your breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking until you were writhing beneath him, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

"San, please," you begged, your voice a mix of need and desperation.

He looked up at you, his eyes blazing with passion. "Please what, baby? Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you whispered, your voice trembling with desire. "I need you."

But he couldn’t give it to you right away. He knew he had to prepare you to ensure you were ready for him. He wanted this to be perfect for you.

He looked down at you. "I need to get you ready for me," he murmured, his voice husky. "I don't want to hurt you."

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow gasps. He kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. He moved lower, kissing a path between your breasts and down your stomach, savoring the taste of your skin. When he reached the juncture of your thighs, he paused, looking up at you with a mix of tenderness and hunger.

"You're so beautiful," he said softly, his fingers gently parting your folds. "I want to make you feel so good."

His touch was gentle at first, his fingers exploring your cunt with a tenderness that sent shivers through your body. He found your clit, circling it with his thumb while his fingers teased your entrance. You gasped, your hips lifting off the bed as he touched you.

"Sannie," you moaned, your voice a breathless plea.

He smiled, pleased by your response. "Let me hear you."

Slowly, he slid one finger inside you, feeling the warmth and tightness of your body. You moaned softly, your body arching into his touch. He moved his finger in and out, his thumb still circling your clit, and watched as your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

"Does that feel good?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

‘’Fuck,yes,’’ you gasped, your hands gripping the sheets. "So good, San."

Encouraged by your response, he added a second finger, stretching you gently. The sensation was intense, and you cried out, your hips rocking against his hand. San's eyes darkened with lust, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

"You're so tight,’’  he murmured against your lips. "So perfect for me."

You whimpered, the pleasure building inside you with every movement of his fingers. "San, please," you begged, your voice a desperate whisper.

He groaned, the sound of your need driving him wild. "I love hearing you beg, baby," he said, his fingers thrusting deeper. "I could do this all night."

Every sound you made seemed to intoxicate him, fueling his desire to pleasure you. He curled his fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars. You cried out his name, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations.

"That's it," he urged, his voice low and commanding. "Come for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you."

You were so close, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly. With a final, deep thrust of his fingers, you shattered, your orgasm washing over you in powerful waves. You cried out, your body arching off the bed as you clung to him.

San watched you, his eyes filled with awe and desire. "You're so beautiful when you come," he murmured, his fingers still moving inside you, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure.

He slowly withdrew his fingers from you, his eyes dark with desire as he brought them to his lips. He tasted you on his fingers, his eyelids fluttering shut and a deep, satisfied groan escaping from his throat.

"God, you taste so good," he murmured, his voice rough with lust. His eyes rolled back in his head for a moment, lost in the intoxicating flavor of you. "I could get addicted to this."

Your cheeks flushed with heat at his words, but your own desire was just as intense. With a newfound boldness, you reached down and gently wrapped your hand around his hardness, inside his sweatpants, feeling the heat and firmness of him through his sweatpants.

"I want to touch you," you whispered, your hand stroking him slowly. "I want to make you feel good too."

A shiver of pleasure ran through him at your touch, and he groaned, his hips instinctively thrusting into your hand. "You already do," he said, his voice strained. "But I won't stop you."

With trembling fingers, you tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, and he helped you remove them, tossing them aside. You marveled at the sight of him, hard and ready for you. He was indeed pretty big. Slowly, you wrapped your hand around his length, stroking him gently.

San let out a deep, guttural moan, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the sensation. "Just like that, baby.’’

You watched his face, mesmerized by the expressions of pleasure that crossed it. The sight of him, so vulnerable and turned on by your touch, filled you with a heady mix of power and desire. You wanted to give him as much pleasure as he had given you.

You positioned yourself between his legs, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and he smiled down at you, his gaze filled with love and encouragement.

Slowly, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his length, tasting the salty tang of his arousal. San's breath hitched, and he let out a deep moan, his hands gripping the sheets. You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down his shaft. You started slowly, finding a rhythm that felt comfortable, your hand stroking the base as your mouth moved up and down.

San's reactions were immediate and intense. His hips bucked slightly, and he let out a series of deep, guttural moans, his hands tangling in your hair. "Fuck, that feels so good," he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure.

You felt a surge of confidence at his praise, and you took him deeper, your mouth and hand working together to bring him pleasure. The sounds he made, the way his body responded to your touch, it all fueled your desire to please him.

"Yes, just like that," San panted, his voice low and rough. "You're so perfect, baby. So good to me."

You continued, the pace of your movements increasing as you sensed his pleasure building. His moans grew louder, his hips thrusting up to meet your mouth. You could feel him getting closer, his body tensing with anticipation.

"I'm close," he warned, his voice strained. "So close, baby."

You looked up at him with doe eyes, your eyes meeting his, and you could see the raw desire and love in his gaze. You wanted to take him over the edge, to make him feel as good as he had made you feel. With a final, deep movement, you took him fully into your mouth, your tongue swirling around him.

San let out a deep, shuddering groan, his hands tightening in your hair as he came, his release filling your mouth. You swallowed, savoring the taste of him, and continued to move until he was spent.

Slowly, you pulled back, your eyes meeting his. He looked down at you with a mixture of awe and love, his chest rising and falling with deep, ragged breaths. Without giving you timr to register what was happening, he picked you and pinned you underneath him once again. He positioned himself between your legs, his hardness pressing against your entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes searching yours.

"Are you ready, love?" he asked, his voice husky with desire.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. ‘’Yes, please, I need you.’’

With a groan, he began to enter you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The sensation was intense, your body stretching to accommodate his size. He was big, and you could feel every inch of him as he filled you completely. It was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and a slight edge of pain that quickly turned into pure ecstasy.

"God, you're so tight," he murmured, his voice rough. "You feel so good, baby. So perfect."

He started to move, his rhythm steady but rough, each thrust deep and deliberate. The sensation was incredible, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

‘’Fuck" you gasped, your voice filled with need.

"Let me hear you, baby," he groaned, his hips moving faster. "I want to hear every sound you make."

As he found his rhythm, his movements became rougher, more urgent. He thrust deeply, his hips driving into you with a force that made you cry out in pleasure. Each thrust hit a spot deep inside you, sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

You moaned loudly, your hands gripping the sheets as he pounded into you. The intensity of his movements, combined with the constant stream of praise and pet names, drove you wild. You screamed his name.

He reached down, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation pushed you over the edge, and you cried out his name as you came, your body shuddering with the force of your orgasm.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Come for me. I want to feel you."

He didn't stop, his thrusts becoming even more relentless as he chased his own release. The sensation of him moving inside you, combined with the aftershocks of your orgasm, was almost too much to bear. But it felt so good, so perfect.

"I need to hear you again," he groaned, his rhythm never faltering. "Come for me again, sweetheart. Let me feel you."

You moaned loudly, your body responding to his words and his touch. The pleasure built quickly, and you felt another orgasm rushing through you. "Sannie, I'm coming," you gasped, your body trembling with the intensity.

"Good girl," he growled, his thrusts becoming even rougher. "I love it when you come for me. You're so beautiful."

You cried out as you came again, the pleasure washing over you in powerful waves. San continued to thrust deeply, his own moans mixing with yours as he pushed you both to the brink.

He pulled out of you and flipped you, positioning you on your hands and knees. He groaned at the sight, his hands gripping your hips as he lined himself up and thrust deeply inside you again.

"God, yes," he moaned, his voice filled with lust. "You look so perfect like this."

He set a punishing rhythm, his hips driving into you with a force that made you cry out in pleasure. One hand was on your hip while the other was on your neck, pushing you towards him as he thrust powerfully. "You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with possession. "All mine."

"Yes, Sannie," you gasped, your body rocking with each thrust. "I'm yours. Always."

He reached around, his fingers finding your clit again and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you felt another orgasm building quickly. "San, I'm going to come," you moaned, your voice shaking with need.

"Do it," he commanded, his thrusts becoming even rougher. "Come for me, baby. I need to feel you."

You cried out his name as you came, your body shuddering with the intensity. San groaned loudly, his own release following quickly as he filled you with his warmth.

For a long moment, you both stayed like that, your bodies trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. San slowly pulled out of you, collapsing beside you on the bed and pulling you into his arms.

"You're amazing," he murmured, his voice filled with awe and love. "So beautiful, so perfect."

You smiled, your heart swelling with love and contentment. "I love you, San," you whispered, your voice full of truth.

"I love you too," he replied, his eyes soft with emotion. "More than anything."

He kissed your forehead before slowly getting up from the bed, carefully pulling away from you. "Stay here, my love. I'll be right back," he said softly. You nodded, your body still tingling from the intensity of your lovemaking.

He returned a few moments later with a warm, damp cloth and a bottle of water. He climbed back onto the bed, gently spreading your legs and starting to clean you up. His touch was tender, every movement filled with care and love.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice soft as he wiped you clean.

"I'm a bit sore," you admitted, your voice a mix of satisfaction and exhaustion.

San's eyes filled with concern, and he gently caressed your thigh. "I'm sorry, baby. I'll be gentler next time."

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "Please don't. I like it rough."

He paused, then a slow grin spread across his face. "Oh, you do, do you?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "My little baby likes it rough, huh?"

You blushed, feeling a surge of warmth at his playful tone. You slowly nodded.

San chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Well, I'll keep that in mind for next time," he said, leaning down to kiss you softly. "But I'll still make sure you're taken care of, no matter what."

After he finished cleaning you up, he pulled you into his arms, wrapping the blanket around both of you. He held you close, his hand gently stroking your back in soothing circles. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat were incredibly comforting.

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his voice filled with love and concern.

You nodded, feeling completely at ease in his embrace. "Yes, Sannie. I'm more than okay. I'm perfect."

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Good. I want you to always feel perfect with me."

You nestled closer to him, your head resting on his chest. "I do, San. I always have."

love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with happiness.

For a while, you both lay there in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking and the deep connection you shared. San's fingers traced gentle patterns on your skin, his touch soothing and reassuring.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room.

You shook your head, feeling completely content. "Just you," you said, your voice filled with love. "I just need you."

"You have me," he replied, his voice tender. "Always."

He continued to hold you, his presence a comforting anchor as you both began to drift off to sleep. The night had been intense, but the love and care San showed you in the aftermath made everything feel even more special.

As you drifted back to sleep, feeling safe and loved in San's arms, a soft buzzing sound interrupted the serene quiet of the room. San frowned, his protective instincts kicking in as he realized it was your phone on his bedside table. He gently eased out of your embrace, making sure not to wake you, and reached for the phone.

The screen displayed a message from Yeonjun.

[Junnie] Where are you? Who are you with?

San's jaw tightened with anger, but he decided to ignore the message. However, the phone buzzed again, another message from Yeonjun.

[Junnie] I know you're at San's. You're such a whore.

San felt a surge of rage, his blood boiling at the audacity of Yeonjun's words. He couldn't let that slide. Carefully, he unlocked your phone and typed out a response, his fingers flying over the screen with determination.

[You] Yes, she's with me. And she's much better off here than she ever was with you. Don’t ever think of insulting her ever again.  - San

He hit send, feeling a grim satisfaction as the message was delivered. He knew it might escalate things, but he couldn't stand the thought of Yeonjun continuing to harass you, especially after everything you'd been through.

San placed the phone back on the bedside table and glanced at you. You were still sound asleep, your face peaceful and content. He gently kissed your forehead, feeling a wave of tenderness wash over him.

"You're safe with me," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Sliding back into bed, San pulled you into his arms again, wrapping the blanket around both of you. The warmth of your body against his was soothing, calming the anger that still simmered within him. He stroked your hair, his touch gentle and reassuring.

As he lay there, his thoughts kept returning to Yeonjun's messages. The anger flared again briefly, but then he looked at you, peaceful in his arms, and he felt a deep sense of purpose. He would protect you, no matter what.

With that vow in his heart, San closed his eyes, letting the steady rhythm of your breathing lull him into a sense of calm. The events of the night played through his mind, a whirlwind of passion, love, and anger, but ultimately, a sense of rightness settled over him. You were with him, where you belonged, and he would do everything in his power to keep you safe and happy.

As sleep finally began to claim him, San held you close, his protective embrace a silent promise of his unwavering support and love. The future was uncertain, but with you in his arms, he felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. And with that comforting thought, he drifted off to sleep, the warmth of your presence his greatest solace.

[moonstruckme]

Hiya Mae!! How are you?? It’s been a little bit but I was hoping I could request a poly!marauders fic (+plus Lily if you’re comfortable with doing that if not it’s fine). This week is the 6th anniversary of my brothers passing and this year is a bit harder as I’m turning 18. Having such a milestone coming up and him not being here is sorta making me sick. I was wondering if maybe you could base the fic off of that? Or something to do with grief and them helping reader out. I’ve found great comfort in the abundance of love you portray with their relationship and I could do with a lil of it.

If not it’s totally fine don’t feel obligated. Hope you have a good week!!

Hi sweetheart, sorry I couldn't get this to you during the week you requested it. I was also dealing with a bit of grief at the time and it felt too raw to try for a while. I hope you're doing well and that you really enjoy being 18, even if those feelings are complicated by your loss <33

cw: mentions of death, grief

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 622 words

The sky is turning from deep blue to black outside when Sirus notices you’ve slipped into a melancholy. 

The only hint of it is in your tone. You’ve been quipping about the film you’re all watching like you always do, bouncing off his and James’ comments and Remus’ amused grunts, but there’s a falsity to the cheer in your voice. This is something you and James have in common; when Sirius or Remus are upset it permeates the area around them like a thick fog, but the two of you have a way of keeping it contained within yourselves, putting on counterfeit smiles. Sirius often wonders if it doesn’t hurt you more. 

He leans away from where he’s been resting his head on Remus’ pectoral, snaking an arm around your shoulders. 

“Penny for your thoughts, pretty girl?” he asks quietly. 

You shrug. Swallow. “Just thinking about them,” you murmur in reply. 

Sirius suspects this isn’t the full story, but he, too, knows the necessity of papering over certain pains. He doesn’t pry. 

Before the war—before Regulus—Sirius used to think that grief was the pain that came from the love you had for the lost person being ripped away from you. But even months after his brother’s death, all the love is still there. It’s amplified, if anything, every ounce of it demanding attention now that he can no longer take it for granted even a little bit. 

What went was the ritual of it all. The peculiar brand of happiness he’d felt around Reg, never easy but still there, buried beneath layers of troubled history and shared broodiness. The inside jokes they’d barely realized they had, things no one who wasn’t raised in their house would see the humor in. The surety that if they fought, they’d get a chance to make up. Sirius will never have those things with his brother again. In memories, maybe, but now they’ll always be tinged with the love so big it hurts. 

He wishes desperately he could keep you from hurting like that. 

He shuffles closer, awkwardly wrapping his other arm around you until he’s nearly covering your body with his. It’s like he thinks he can shield you, like he can protect you from grief after he’d failed to protect you from loss. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says. 

You shake your head, turning so it’s jammed in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Your face feels hot. “I don’t know what to do,” you choke out. 

Sirius squeezes you tighter. He gets it, but he doesn’t. He knows how it feels to grieve, but not how to grieve your person in your way. It’s an ache he can only approximate. 

“Sweetheart.” James’ voice sounds pained, and he gets up from Remus’ other side, rounding the couch to climb onto the armrest beside you. He rubs your back with one hand, the other coming to rest on Sirius shoulder, a comfort in case he needs it. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do, my love.” 

Sirius feels a hot tear slip down his neck into his shirt, and James winces as your shoulders hitch under his touch. Remus makes a soft pitying sound. 

“You’re alright.” He latches onto the last unclaimed part of you, rough hand soothing up your calf. “You’re okay.” 

“Sorry,” you manage, and Sirius squishes you punishingly in his arms, pressing a staunch kiss to the side of your head. 

“Don’t be silly,” he tells you. James makes a half-choked sound of agreement. “No sorries, okay?” 

You nod, the bump of your nose moving against Sirius’ neck. He gives you another kiss to show his approval. 

“You’re alright, darling,” Remus says again. “Take all the time you need. We’ve got you.” 

[overhual]

hi astro as your first meta ask, tell us about the extent of overhaul’s mysophobia, and the physical reactions he might have to contamination!

i'm so glad you asked! the first thing i want to point out is that i use the manga as my reference here, rather than the anime. the anime portrays him breaking out in hives every time unwanted contact happens to him, which isn't really the case.

let's break this down.

to fully understand the extent of his mysophobia, we need to first understand where it comes from. before being abandoned by his father, kai was always rather senstive and fairly sickly. he regualrly caught common colds, flus, whatever was going around that season. that on top of his sensitivity made him a whiny, needy child. that, on top of mental health issues in his father (exaggerated by the loss of kai's mother), kai was abandoned.

trauma and changes to envoirnments can cause ocd to develop in children. the trauma of being abandoned rooted in kai as anxiety, which then fully developed into obsessive compulsive disorder. this wasn't exactly realized at the time, as traumas such as these (on top of being homeless as a child and trying to survive) force you in a constant fight or flight mode. he didn't have the emotional comprehension at the time to really piece together why he started behaving certain ways. though back to my original point, on top of being a naturally sick kid, having no shelter, no source of food, and constantly contaminated, kai was sick - often. a sick kid is a real easy target on the streets for other hungry people. despite being too weak to fight back most of the time, he chose to do so anyway (which ended in more bruises and broken bones than he can count).

that said, from infancy and on, sickness and disease meant bad things for kai. while living on the street, it was something he believed he had to just "deal" with. it became a state of normalcy for him. filth, disease, hunger, and sickness was all he knew. he was trapped in this envoirnment that was out to "get" him.

this outlook began to change when he was taken into the orphanage. after all of these changes and traumas gone through, the ocd really began to take shape. now that kai was fed regularly and had the ability to clean himself, the obsession with germs and sickness specifically, began to really show itself. once you're out of the envoirnment that hurt you for so long, it can be hard, especially for a child, to move beyond it - and when it's all you've known, it can be difficult to bring yourself out of that and feel safe in your current envoirnment. kai's case was exactly that. he started scrubbing himself until his skin ached to almost "prove" to himself that he was clean. he regularly changed his clothes and sheets, and often stole janitorial supplies to routinely clean his space in the orphanage.

as we know, kai wasn't entirely taken off the streets, either. when they were sent to school or played outside, kai was subjected to that filth again, which only heightened his obsession with being home and getting clean. when at the orphange, we see him distance himself from the other kids. when not scrubbing or itching himself, he was reading. when renting books from the library, he always grabbed books related to medical topics, whether this be equipment, picture books, or something about diseases, etc - he studied it. unfortunately for kai, he's incredibly smart, and went through many more books than he should've at his age. this, again, worsened his obsession. to the point where quirks, themselves, were believed to be a sickness.

being taken in by pops was a massive blessing. by then, kai would've needed years of therapy and inpatient treatment to really iron out the worst of his symptoms. however, pops provided him with strict order and routine. kai knew what each day looked like and the envoirnments he could expect to encounter on each day. this, thankfully, eased his anxiety enough to bring him out of his selectively mute state, but not enough to undo all of the "truths" kai had taught himself.

as trust was built between kai and pops, kai was given more freedoms. this is when he starts wearing his black mask and gloves. he also starts arranging his space to be exactly how he envisions. this means fabrics that are less likely to get dirty, surfaces that are easy to clean, and of course, regular cleanings to this room. kai was also given a private education, which meant a faster education in kai's case - and while education is a great thing, it worked to both kai's benefit and against him. the more he learned about germs and sickness and quirks, the more he fixated. this went on to encourage him to pursue medical school.

despite how medical school may have been a henderence to him, since he's constantly around germs in that envoirnment, he actually thrived. he already knew so much going into it, that he excelled at a rapid pace. this is why kai could've been such a good healer. however, the shie hassaikai and his loyalty to pops took priority over it - and so, his obsession won out in the end.

we're talking two decades of an untreated severe case of ocd and mysophobia. i do think that while pops was a blessing for him, the yakuza life was not. being in the yakuza forced kai to do things that triggered his compulsions, and then made them worse with no counseling. all the while, there was stress on kai to one day take pops' place and lead the shie hassaikai - and as we know, stress can heighten compulsions.

by the time we meet him in the story, kai wears a plague mask to "keep out the filth". inside his mask, he has packs of different herbs and petals to filter out germs before air reaches his nose and mouth. we know he takes regular baths to decontaminate himself, and i think he routinely takes these on top of bathing after being dirtied: when he wakes up, when he comes back from an outing (with a change of clothes), and at nighttime. his gloves and masks are regularly switched out, too. he scrubs himself until his body is raw and red, sometimes for hours if he's having a bad episode.

once the head of the hassaikai, their base is kept almost to his standard of cleanliness. he understands it's unrealistic to expect everyone to be as clean as he is, but you better believe that underground base is typically spotless. and its unfortunate that eri, for him, was seen as the solution to this contamination he could never seem to get rid of. in the end, this obsession won kai out of his own humanity.

in regards to touch, his quirk relies on it, so i think it's unlikely that he breaks out in hives every time he touches someone. if its for his cause, he'll hate touch, but he can rationalize it in his mind. this started from a very early age. when his quirk manifested and then used to his benefit (to steal food, to win fights), it was rationalized that he "had" to do it, no matter the consequences to himself or the other person. this game of mental gymnastics to acquaint himself with touch was mastered. by the time he was a teen and then an adult, he had it down. any touch could be justified, no matter how brutal, disgusting, or the duration.

however, when unwanted contact happens to him, he does have reactions. most of the time, it's nausea and anger. the nausea is swallowed down (emetophobic), while the anger is what's acted upon. we see this with magne, and we see it with compress. he loses his cool and acts accordingly. other physical reactions he often has to contamination are a heightened blood pressure, uncontrolled thoughts, feeling his heart racing, hives - occasionally. very similar symptoms one might experience when about to have an anxiety or panic attack. it's imperitive that kai remove himself from the situation to keep that from happening.

his biggest trigger is unknown substances. if he's around something he can't recognize, he either needs to know what it is immediately, or remove himself from it. additionally, he hates the thought of contaminated air. one of the sicknesses he struggled with as a kid was asthama. when exposed to contaiminated air, he will likely suffer from asthmatic symptoms. he'll cough or need an inhaler, but those are mostly psychosomatic symptoms.

but yeah, those are my general thoughts. he's no stranger to wanted touch, but unwanted touch will trigger that fight or flight sense. in short, kai's mysophobia is something he's dealt with as a child, and only worsened by the conditions he grew up in.

[chthonicgodling]

For, Lokiii 🧠 & 🍩

For Libbyyy ❤️&✂️

[ask game here!] eeeee ty!! OH THIS IS GONNA BE SOOO LONG AAHGH—

Lmao first for eLoki my most favorite oc 😇

🧠 - What do you like most about them?

IMMEDIATELY GETS ON THE SOAPBOX the thing about him tHE THING ABOUT HIM IS- and I do not CARe what anything else anywhere else cough cough tries to say about him , I am CORRECT or at least I am correct wholeheartedly in Elysium where fenixe and I are in control —

the short answer is he fits within my favorite character trope trend of all my favorite ocs (Maci, Chal) and the long answer is specifically what I mean is that Loki is the most desperately insecure, frantically jealous and attention-deprived disaster of possibly all time.

and it’s that, to combat this, the utterly insane solution HE found was to adopt this… this DEMEANOR, this Sneering and Smirking Haughty Veneer of Calculated Scheming Aloof Supervillainry— well, retired supervillainry. Everything he’s ever done, all his actions — -and then generally, his incessant compulsion to swerve around genuine emotional vulnerability, his crucial need to not only appear as if he’s all put together, but to appear like he’s WINNING (winning what?!)- is just, the most utterly batshit way to handle??? feeling like that??? to handle an entire lifetime of feeling NOT GOOD ENOUGH and an entire lifetime of UNENDING COMPARISON and an entire lifetime of NOT MEASURING UP and— this??? this is how he deals?!?!?!?!

ELoki - being shown genuine love and ACCEPTANCE and EMBRACE for who HE is instead of who he isn’t - and promptly locking himself behind like ten doors to crumble into dust about it - it’s just sooooooo????

grits teeth that insecurity after all the Veneers being scraped off is the entire point to his character. he’s not ACTUALLY a cocky narcissist LIKE SOME MAY HAVE DESCRIBED IN CERTAIN UHH MEDIA CONTENTS, but HE would call himself that to further disguise that burrowed insecurity and that— again— to choose that method of all ways to handle that aching void inside is just soooooooooooooooooo oh my god. I’m. So obsessed with that, and make no mistake I’m so obsessed with portraying him at all times in Elysium with that core character trait at ALL times in the back of my mind. ohhhh hh hgmy god. my god. my GOD—

🍩 -Who is Loki’s arch-nemesis or rival?

….if you had asked him this like. three months ago he would have said Maci 😭actually if you caught him in the hallway like right now he probably would STILL say this to your face and then as soon as you wandered away would poof back to her bedroom to let her pet his hair, so,

This is so funny Loki does actually have very specific and famous arch nemesises but he snidely professes to be retired from the supervillain lifestyle and so he OF COURSE doesn’t REALLY care what the a vengers are doing, unless of course they were to mildly inconvenience him in ANY way and then they’d be his archnemesises again. Honestly Loki is a person that just kind of collects these into an infinite list, anyone who’s ever slighted him or even mildly annoyed him is an enemy forever. I also want to say that he considers Hecate to be his absolute enemy and Hecate has always been and continues to be warm and friendly to him bc that’s a fully one sided rivalry fgkfkgkgkgkg

Within Elysium, hmm let’s see Loki also famously dislikes Eris NOT because of anything she’s done to harm the palace but bc she’s also a goddess of chaos and it makes Loki feel territorial and threatened 😠 but also OH an actual and legitimate answer is - like everyone else’s - Thanatos???? He’s of course on Loki’s shitlist forever due to That Whole Series of Events (Thanatos siphoning Loki’s powers to attack the palace, culminating in Thanatos’s explosion into jars) and like. It is unacceptable to attack his family but EVEN MORE unacceptable to trick HIM and make a fool out of him in the process absolutely how dare you (worth mentioning that if interrogated about this certainly Loki would only admit to the latter…..)

now onto the Libby section!!

❤️ - What is one of Libby’s best memories?

oh this was an IMMEDIATE answer that came to my mind and it’s gotta be one of Libby’s FIRST memories of her very own that is, when Loki made her real, since before that when living as a hallucination of Chal’s she and Chal had all the same memories — and I think it IS when Loki made her real. like, that very moment. Chal had gotten to sleep for the first time in her life ever and her hallucination of Libby was fading; the deal she’d made with Loki & Ty & Bel was that if she could try to be nice for a week they would make Libby real and bring her back, Chal held up her end of the bargain but it was an entire week without her. Libby’s very first memory of her own was becoming tangible — and immediately getting to tacklehug Chal for the first ever time :’)))))

✂️ - What is one of Libby’s worst memories?

……Well. hey. Due to her time living as a hallucination of Chal’s….. she and Chal……. Share the same memories, s… so…………

however due to many traumatic events and also severe sleep deprivation neither Libby or Chal remember everything from their earlier childhood, Libby remembers a little bit more than Chal does but, collectively they’re missing so many gaps. Hell, Chal’s even covered in scars - besides the shoulder scar that we all know what the cause of was - they have NO idea where all those came from 🙃 some things are just too horrifying to hold space for in your brain!

A few years ago Libby had had a couple of sessions with Epione, the palace therapist who’s helped Chal (and Maci, Epi, Tory, many many people) and Epione had asked her to talk about some of her bad memories. Well, all of Libby’s bad memories are of watching Chal be terrorized by her parents when she was younger. The specific event she’d talked about then was of generally how the Keres daemons, Ker’s minions, would basically follow Chal all around to tattle on her to Thanatos and Ker if she ever did anything “wrong” and on one such occasion, a mortal Chal had been trying to kill had escaped. The Keres daemons watching had all turned on Chal, accusing her of showing mercy to the mortal who’d gotten away, dragged her back to Ker and Thanatos, and —

And then blank. Libby, just like Chal, quietly haunted by the memory of the terror of it, of being brought back before them— and then a gap of several days later. All of Libby’s worst memories are just like that. oops! AUGH.

Thank you so much for the questions!!

[binniesoob]

Ah Jo, I just read the post about Freefall (⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠)

You deserve kudos and all the love for speaking about what you went through this year. I wouldn't be able to do this and I'm glad TxT are helping you a lot rn (⁠o⁠´⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠)⁠っ

And overall, I just agree about everything you said. Lore aside, it's clear that they had fun while recording and working on the album. They found the genres where they're currently more comfortable and they're going to use them.

And also OOOOOH you liked Growing Pain too?! Yeeeees 😭

My rock/metal fan inside me screamed, cried and went "YES, THAT'S MY BOYS. THEY DID IT FOR MEEEEEESEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"

And then I claimed the song as my fave, as my precious thing that no one should talk badly about or I'll go full rage mode (for legal reasons, this last part is a joke. Taste is subjective, yadda yadda).

Even tho I confess that a little tear came from my face after listening to the song for the, like, fifth time. I thought "Damn, Chester would have loved covering it (you know, Chester Bennington from Linkin Park)...And now I'm here, being a little emotional and teary about it 🥲😭

And I'm also projecting what would ever happen if TxT will ever go full rap/nu metal one day. I don't think it can happen because they need to find a vocal coach for teaching them how to growl or scream without losing their vocal chords five minutes later and also because they seem to not be into metal in general 🤣

Unless they'll do a collab with my girls Babymetal...ACH I shouldn't think about it or I'll project too much. But maybe a Japanese single...AAAAAAAAAAAAAH 😭

Better if they stick in the normal rock.

Also, idk you but I highly, HIGHLY, prefer Blue Spring live instead of the studio version 🥲

It seems the studio version is missing something 🤨🤔

Which is a bummer, the song is good 🥲

Teresaa thank you so much for your words 🥺🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 i'm also really glad i have txt to give me joy, support and relief 🥲 as always i don't want to rely on it too much because it puts pressure on artists that are human too and can't solve all of our problems, but music itself keeps being there for me and i'm always going to rely on that ❤

With lore involved it can become even more tricky for groups to express themselves through the music, so i'm really glad txt are given the opportunity to do that anyway!! (it certainly helps that the lore itself was built to fit the experiences of young people, but you know, as taehyun said on his last live, gbgb for example felt more forced for him because he wasn't really feeling what they were supposed to portray) for as much as i'm a lore enthusiast, if leaving it behind meant having more creative freedom for a group i'd support it 100% *coff coff ateez coff coff*

i'm also glad the company keeps overall acknowledging and respecting that txt shine and are more comfortable with certain genres yup yup!

i'm usually not an hard rock and metal enthusiast, it depends on the song, and Growing Pains is one of those for me 🥰 you claiming and defending it is like me with Dreamer sksgskhsks

... 🥺🫂 i'm not fan of Linkin Park, more of a casual listener, but i also thought about them when i heard it... also and me and my brother yesterday night were listening to some music together and one of their songs came up and i was like "full circle!"

i love how one way or another txt found a way to make us all shed at least a few tears :")

the vocal coach part made me crackle 😭😭😭 anyway bestie, delulu is the solulu 🤝 maybe they'll never go full metal but i hope they give us more hard rock and metal inspired in the future yes 🙏 let's manifest 🕯

so i'm not the only one part 2!! i feel the same way 🤝 i also prefer Blue Spring live version! its rawness just perfectly delivers the feelings, the studio version doesn't sound as good for some reason, so i'm keeping my dear blue spring live concert ver mp3 file in my playlist 👍

[helldustedstories]

Stolas can feel his head pounding; he really should have something to drink other than absinthe. But now that Blitz is here, he's not just going to….walk away. But he's not sure he wants to invite him in any longer, which is decidedly a first for the prince.

If he had been here even a few minutes prior, Stolas probably would have welcomed him with open arms, would have tried to make things right, or as right as he could, but now…., he felt vulnerable, exposed. Blitz had witnessed something that no one else had; Stolas was very good at pulling on a smile, slipping on a mask to show that while things were not perfect, they weren't as bad as they actually were. And while Octavia heard Stella's shouting and Stolas' attempts to talk her down…, even she didn't know how bad things had gotten.

To the outside world…., he was a cheating husband, and Stella the poor, scorned wife, victim of her husband's whims. And that was the way things had to be. Because to imply otherwise would portray her in a bad light…, and he would be the one to pay for it, just the way she'd said, the way she'd threatened.

Stolas is admittedly a little bit surprised at the reason Blitz had come back…, but knowing that it had been bothering him too is….oddly comforting. Because that means whatever they have has to mean something, doesn't it? Unless he's just worried that Stolas will end their agreement and is trying to placate him, which is the far more likely situation.

Still…, he's not sure quite what to do, at this point, and the pounding of his head doesn't help things. He should know better than to drink that much absinthe, especially on an empty stomach, but at that point, he hadn't cared. It was the easiest way to stop feeling, to put himself out of his misery, at least temporarily.

He should be leaping at the chance to invite Blitz in, to just….have a drink with him. But for the first time in a very long time, even Blitz can't bring the smile he usually wears for him to Stolas' face, and that thought only makes it worse. Because every fiber of his being aches, wants him to just hold him while he cries…., but that's not the sort of relationship they have.

And when Blitz says that he heard almost the entire exchange that he and Stella had had, Stolas' hand almost instinctually goes to his face, as though to cover the blow that hadn't come this time, that had come so often in the past that he still felt the phantom sting, even though he'd managed to block it this time. Had he seen that, too? What must he think, that Prince Stolas couldn't even stand up to his own wife, that he flinched practically every time she raised a hand, was so familiar with the whims of her anger that he could practically predict when there would be an accompanying backhand?

He feels more tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, and he takes a deep breath, trying to will himself not to cry in front of Blitz; he'd already witnessed how weak he was. Stolas didn't need to show him how useless he was too.

The owl swallows hard, turning so his back is to the balcony railing, and sinks to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest, hugging them tight to him. He draws in another shaky breath, just focusing on keeping his breathing even, on keeping himself calm.

"I have been married to that woman for almost twenty years; you'd think I'd know when to keep my mouth shut," he finally says, more of a hitch in his voice than he'd like. "I just…..can't do it anymore. And I'm afraid of what will happen when she makes this as hard as she can." Because Stella was not going to allow for an easy divorce, that much is certain. Which will drag it out for even longer, and with the state of everything around him being so fragile right now, Stolas isn't sure he'll make it to the other side in one piece.

He hugs his legs even tighter to his chest, lifting his head to glance in Blitz's direction, not quite able to bring himself to look at him, not now, not when he deserved so much more than him.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I….never wanted you to see me like this, to see just how pathetic I really am."

Maybe it was better that their arrangement was only for once a month; it was a lot easier to pour all of his positive feelings into that one day, especially since it meant he got to see Blitz, than it was to try to be even mostly okay the rest of the time, something he still tried to do for Via's sake. Because if Blitz had seen him like this before they had their agreement, he would have wanted nothing to do with him, even with his access to the human realm. And right now, he couldn't exactly blame him; Stolas didn't want to have much to do with himself, either.

This wouldn't be the first time Blitz had ruined a good thing. Honestly, the only surprise is the implicit acknowledgement that this is a good thing - he doesn't know when that edge of nervousness that accompanied every full moon just ... vanished. By all rights, it would make sense to be at least a little apprehensive about something that his entire livelihood hinges on, even if it'd just be a matter of redoing the arrangement if it wasn't working.

But he realizes, now, that it wasn't just a matter of Stolas being a surprisingly accommodating partner - business partner, at least. They - they've been having fun. At least, Blitz is reasonably sure that Stolas has been having fun, if his noises in bed are any indication - or the way he curls up against him after they're done, or the texts that he sends in the interim. And Blitz - when Blitz thinks about this entire thing just ... ending - when he thinks about how ashamed Stolas looked to be confronted with being seen with him -

No, he still doesn't blame Stolas, but now that he's marginally less inebriated and hydrated enough to stave off the hangover for another hour, Blitz is struck with the fact that he would miss this.

He's struck with the fact that he doesn't want to just - let it go.

Maybe that's what the nightmare voice had been goading him towards - you're going to die alone !

Whatever his reasons for coming over, though, they now pale in comparison to what had been laid out right above his head. Is this what Stolas has been dealing with behind closed doors? Blitz had been somewhat aware that Stella wasn't someone he'd wanted to tangle with, and he knows that Octavia is a fairly withdrawn person ... - as he scrambles fully up over the ledge, almost losing his footing only once when a little lightning flash headache pulses behind his good eye, he nurses the ache in the chest at the memory of Stella's ringing voice, the vitriol of her accusations.

And the very, very, very obvious signs that Stolas has been crying. Not the least of which, of course, is that Blitz heard him. But now that he's up and sitting properly on the edge of the balcony, legs crossed under himself, hands braced on his thighs, head tilted up towards Stolas' face, he can see all the signs of distress - his makeup is running, his feathers are dull and ruffled, and despite the red sclera of Stolas' eyes, Blitz can see that they're rimmed and puffy.

Then he sees Stolas wrap his arms around himself, and all at once, Blitz just wants to - grab Stolas and run. Maybe punch someone in the face if they look at Stolas the wrong way.

❝ Uh, yeah. Guess I couldn't either. ❞ Does drinking twice your weight in Beelzejuice and passing out in the bathroom count as sleeping? Probably not.

Blitz kind of hates the way Stolas' voice gets gentle. It rakes along his skin, burning and stinging because it doesn't burn and sting. It's been a while since Blitz has sought out pain on purpose, and he knows he shouldn't, but - fuck. Stolas - Stolas should be able to be honest with him. He should be able to yell at him for putting him in the position of being publicly fucking humiliated when he has so much other shit going on in his.

Fuck, he should be able to yell at him for ruining his life in the first place.

As much as Blitz has always felt the instinctual need to curl up against the threat of rejection, there's something oddly comforting about the idea of Stolas finally letting loose on him. Like he doesn't need to wait for the shoe to drop - like he can do something real and tangible to start making up for all the shit he's done.

❝ I - ❞ So that brings him right back to the beginning: why was he here? Blitz sighs, maneuvering to dig his knee into his thigh instead and prop his chin in his hand, looking up at Stolas and then down at the stone below. ❝ - I felt shitty about how I left things. I - I'm sorry. ❞

Shit. That's true, isn't it? He is sorry.

He's tempted to sidestep the question of what he'd heard, pretend he'd gotten there later or puked in the bushes or something, anything to show that he hadn't eavesdropped. But this feels ... too important. The kind of thing that you can't ignore because this isn't a disagreement or a scuffle - it's serious. And, fuck - what if he hadn't been here? What if - fuck, does anyone even know what's happening?

A chill rakes down his spine at the revelation.

❝ I heard. Most of it, I think. ❞ His voice is firmer, now. This is not an easy problem to unravel, but it's almost straightforward, because it is unequivocally not fucking okay. Blitz looks back up at him, keeping his distance - letting Stolas make the decision about his boundaries, what he wants or needs, but he doesn't back down.

❝ You can tell me as much or as little as you want. I'm not gonna push if you don't want me to. But I heard. - What can I do? What kind of help do you need? ❞

[flickeringart]

Minor aspects

While the nature of the major aspects in astrology is quite straightforward and has been covered more than sufficiently, there’s still a lot of fog surrounding the nature of the minor ones. There are a lot of minor aspects that can be taken into consideration when interpreting a chart… however, since they are labeled minor they won’t be as obvious and much more difficult to spot in one’s own life. Note that this doesn't mean that they aren't impactful. There’s a lot of speculation and vague terms used when describing them. It seems that every minor aspect is said to have a “spiritual/creative dimension” as if that is supposed to clear up any of the mystery surrounding them. Perhaps, on one level, we don’t want to pin them down too much because certainty is the enemy of exploration. Or perhaps it’s the case that the aspects themselves don’t want to be pinned down? There’s an appeal in keeping certain things mysterious in our lives, to avoid defining and putting rigid labels on phenomena. It makes life alive and beautiful. Many people dismiss astrology is because they are afraid that they’re going to be reduced to a set of characteristics and have their personality mapped up to the point of being able to predict and foresee patterns of behavior and fated themes. The fear of knowledge is not irrational; it is probably healthy to an extent. Knowing too much can be dangerous and rob life of its magic. “Curiosity killed the cat”, as the saying goes. However, this is not the whole truth because curiosity also leads to expansion and better understanding, so let’s not be afraid to concretize these aspects, it's not the same as "killing" their potential. Life is never completely in our hands anyway, there's no risk of knowing it all.

Quintile (72°)/Bi-quintile (144°)

These aspects are said to have something to do with individual style and quality of creative work. It is suggested that these aspects say something about a mental-creative process of imposing one’s mind on a particular subject. It is also linked to talent and gifts the individual would possess that have not been actively learned. Basically, it seems to be indicative of the particular way a person would approach a subject. For example, the quintile would not describe the activity itself - the activity could be painting, knitting, running, cleaning or whatever – the quintile/bi-quintile would point to the way the person approaches the activity.

For example, Ted Bundy (whose chart I’ve explored a bit here), has Neptune bi-quintile the MC. Neptune, being the planet of illusion hints to Bundy’s quality of being a chameleon, deceiving the public as part of his personal style.

Prince Harry, (whose chart I’ve touched upon before), has his Moon bi-quintile Neptune. The Moon can be indicative of the mother figure, and his mother Princess Diana certainly had an elusive style and charm that was a bit deceptive and seductive. Of course, he would have the same thing going in his own life but it would perhaps be difficult for us to spot. He also has Moon quintile Venus and he definitely has a style/quality of emotional-physical comfort. He has Pluto quintile the AC, which would point to a style of showing up in the world that is powerful and intense. He has a tendency to come off as destructive and chaotic at times. There’s also a quintile aspect forming between Mercury in the 8th house and the MC which would hint to a public image that is colored by the “taboo” things he has said about his family in the recent present, but also in the past. He’s a public image that is aligning with the style of the playful amoral trickster.

As I’m going with charts I’ve already explored, let’s look at the quintiles in Meghan Markle’s chart. Her Venus is quintile Uranus and it perfectly describes her style of “wokeism”, that is, appearing to be objective and intelligent about feelings and affective values. She has a style of being “the loving humanitarian”. Whether she is this way in an actual sense is debatable. The quintile aspect is describing the quality and style not the actuality. But, it is disturbingly close to reality that it somehow becomes reality. It’s like the actor who adopts another energy signature in order to portray a different person. It doesn’t really matter if a person is rotten at the core - if he has a loving way of being, what difference does it make? The style is real enough to not reflect and give the impression of love.

Semi-square (45°) / Sesquiquadrate (135°)

These aspects are said to precipitate events. The nature of these two aspects is more immediate than the square aspect (which causes tension and doubt and needs constant navigation). The conflict represented is usually unconscious and is therefore not easy to identify. However, as these conflicts tend to manifest quite abruptly, we can take a look at the concrete problems the person faces. The planets connected by a semi-square/sesquiquadrate aspect will be in conflict but force some kind of release (that may result in an accident because of it’s autonomous/unconscious function).

I have Saturn sesquiquadrate my Moon. Since I tend to unconsciously block my emotional responses, the pressure builds and I am “forced” to get out of a situation, “forced to listen to my emotions”. I have encountered the theory that the sesquiquadrate in particular is manifesting as something that is looked down upon societally. This would make sense considering the aspect forces a breakout of one of the planets and nothing that is immediate and abrupt is ever favorably looked upon when it comes to social-societal structure and predictability. I have been meaning to take on commitments that would further my status in society in terms of formal education (Saturn in the 9th conjunct the MC) but I have not been able to do it without considerable decline in my emotional well-being. So, I have been “thrown out” by unconscious forces every time I’ve tried.

My sister has her Venus sesquiquadrate Saturn. She’s known for her deliberate and strategic way of dressing. She plans her outfits carefully, there’s nothing haphazard about the way she presents herself. However, she has Lilith conjunct Venus so she can push the limits and simply do what she pleases sometimes as well when the pressure of Saturn becomes too much. But, this often causes external judgment. A relative of mine has her Sun semi-square Venus. I can tell that she’s highly aware of her appearance. She is very pretty but there’s always something that is a bit off between what she wears and her self-expression. It’s like it doesn’t quite fit and it’s irritating.

To get back to the celebrities, Meghan Markle has Neptune sesquiquadrate Mercury. Is it possible that this forces distortion and vagueness in opinion and communication? It would certainly fit the bill. She also has Uranus sesquiquadrate Mars. She simply has to “break out of her confining situations”, cut people out of her life and move on in her own way. Uranus is also sesquiquadrate her MC, which seems to point to her unconscious pull to “do what she wants to do” at the detriment of her public image and reputation. Notably, Uranus sits in her 5th house of personal enjoyment and creation.

Prince Harry has a semi-square between Mars and Pluto. When he is angry it blossoms into rage and he can’t see straight. It has gotten him into quite a lot of trouble and societal-social disapproval. It seems that this is a common theme with the sesquiquadrate and semi-square. He also has his Moon sesquiquadrate Jupiter. Isn’t it the case that he tends to indulge in a way that makes him look bad in society?

Quincunx (150°)

This aspect is typically found between planets incompatible by element and mode. Basically, they have nothing in common and have a hard time cooperating, which will cause minor stress in the individual because of necessity to work around the incompatibilities. The planets are not in direct conflict but they are uncomfortable with each other.

For example, I have my Moon quincunx Mercury. Every time I sit down to write I’m mildly disturbed by little things like an aching back, a headache, restless legs or whatever. It’s not very comfortable for me but I can still keep with it, however it might take a toll on me health wise. The quincunx has been related to health issues because of the mild stress that it causes. It is manageable and one is usually able to cope with the stress, but it’s not very pleasant. Because it is not as demanding as more disturbing conflicts in one’s life, it’s in the background causing irritation.

Meghan Markle’s Venus makes a quincunx aspect to her MC. This suggests that she has a hard time reflecting her value on a public level, it’s as if how she’s perceived publicly disturbs her sense of ease and comfort. She has an Aries MC with a Virgo Venus and she’s continuously depicted as a bully these days, as some kind a selfish and aggressive bitch (the more negative attributes of Aries). This must be undermining her self-worth immensely, however, it’s perhaps too minor of a problem to do anything about. It is still there nonetheless, harping on in the background, breaking her down and causing slow disintegration…

Semi-sextile (30°)

Planets forming semi-sextile aspects are said to be able to aid each other, to have a better connection than if they had no link at all. Usually one planet is in the sign that comes before the sign of the other; in other words, a semi-sextile might be forming between Mars in Aries and Venus in Taurus. The semi-sextile usually connects consecutive sign like this, but planets could be in semi-sextile in the same sign, like Mars in 0° Taurus semi-sextile Venus in 30° Taurus. In any case, the planet placed at an earlier degree or in the earlier sign can draw on qualities of the planet in the later degree or the later sign and vice versa. For example, Prince Harry’s Venus in Libra is semi-sextile his MC. He can draw on his sense of harmony a diplomacy to benefit his public image. His Mars in Sagittarius is also semi-sextile his MC, which makes it so that he can draw from his Martial qualities of energy and action to influence his career and success.

Parallel/Contra-parallel

These are called aspects in declination because they are measured by latitude and not by longitude. This essentially means that two planetary bodies can aspect each other in a certain way measuring the distance between them north-south of the celestial equator. Two planets at the same degree north and south of the equator form a parallel aspect and can be interpreted the same as a conjunction (some say that it's more obscure like a quincunx/semi-square). Two planets opposite each other north and south form a contra-parallel aspect and can be interpreted as an opposition (some say that it's basically the same as the parallel though).

I have found, looking at my own chart that these aspects only confirms already existing aspects measured by longitude or it confirms the sign that a specific angle is in. For example, my MC is in Aries and it is also parallel Mars. Mars is the ruler of Aries so it emphasizes my already martial MC. My Sun is conjunct Saturn and it’s also parallel Saturn. My sister has a Scorpio MC and it’s also parallel Pluto, the natural ruler of Scorpio. For example, my sister has a wide Moon-Mars conjunction (6°) but they are also in contra-parallel. How is this supposed to be interpreted? I would simply see it as Moon-Mars is connected strongly despite the orb being a little wide with the conjunction.

However, it’s not always the case that parallel and contra-parallel aspects only confirms already existing influences. They can also add themes and connections. My sister doesn’t have any longitude aspects between Saturn and Uranus but they are contra-parallel to each other.

Septile (51.43° - a 1/7 of the 360°)

It is said to indicate a hidden flow of energy between the planets involved, an inner sensitivity to the spiritual dimension of the planets. Another description I have come across is that the planets “darkly interact” and there’s an occult theme surrounding the connection.

I have Venus septile Jupiter in my own chart. Going by the said method of interpretation, it would mean that I have sensitivity to the hidden wealth and underlying beauty and abundance in life. I think it is quite accurate.

Novile (40° - 1/9 of the 360°)

Is said to be describing a contact of perfection/idealization. It also seems to have something to do with spiritual awakening and growth, lack of fear and freedom.

Having Sun novile Saturn for example could be interpreted as a feeling of communion with the world and life itself through responsibility and the control one can exercise through self-expression.

----

There are of course other minor aspects to explore, but I'll stop here for now.

[stardustnfreckles]

To celebrate the DeanCas100k on ao3 here's a list of my all-time favourite Destiel fanfictions:

CANON VERSE

A turn of the earth Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Early seasons!Dean keeps meeting Cas at the most random moments, till he isn’t anymore... Definetly a must read.

In the shadow of your wings

Set after the S11 finale. Dean kinda breaks Cas’ heart. Because sometimes he can be thick SOB. The Cas finds a new shiny and witty italian boyfriend and Dean’s not happy about it. and now Sam is missing, Mary is back and Dean has a mixed bag of feelings he has to deal with. Probably my favorite canonverse ever.

Like moses and batman and James Dean dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas.

A masterpiece in characterization by saltyfeathers. I loved everything, The dialogues, the flashbacks, the way Dean and Cas emotions are portrayed. There’s angst and internalized homophobia but also confort and IT IS JUST SO GOOD OK?

The best bang for your buck It’s not like Castiel knows who this GotImpala67 person is. There’s no personal information listed on their profile. Except that they’re male, thirty-seven, from Kansas and, apparently, they like inserting things inside themselves.

Cas plays dumb even tho he really is not and I love him for it. Dean is the kind of buyer who leaves detailed reviews of the products he buys (which is the best kind if you ask me) I love the writer’s style and their sense of humor. It’s short although I never get tired of re-reading this one. Also Bring up the deep & Till the juice runs from the same author are with mentioning.

Kisses by sunflowers beds by fanforfanatics & Watched by K_K_TiBal

This two fics have a on thing in common: At the end of both you’ll be asking yourself how can less than 5k hurt you so much?

I cried, then I smiled and cried some more. This fics will crush you in the best way possible.

Take me home country roads The most IC Deamon!Dean I’ve ever read. It’s a rollercoaster of emotions.

What’s missing is found (our souls can exhale now) by sobsicles aka queen of post S15 fix-it fics

That black dog ache A simple case turns Dean upside down as he attempts to deal with the effects of a particularly strange love spell.

The perfect gift Castiel has a big problem concerning Dean... thankfully, Sam is always around to help

Really short Crack!Fic about Cas being clueless and adorable.

So says the sword by komodobits

Actually I suggest to go on their ao3 profile and read EVERYTHING.

The profet must die

Dean starts reading Chuck’s book out of curiosity and ends up having a epiphany about his apparently not so much platonic relationship with a certain angel of the lord.

A room of one’s own All Dean wants is a little privacy. Cas doesn't understand.

It mostly smut with a bit of healthy angst and great amount of humor.

My Roots Take Flight After forty years in Hell, Dean’s more than willing to accept the offer: become a guardian angel and earn his freedom. But his new ward seems destined to hunt alongside Sam, and there are secrets in Heaven that the angels don’t want found out. Dean’s going to have to choose between his duty and the people he loves- and to work out just where Castiel fits in.

Reverse!Verse set in season 4. It’s interesting to watch their relationship develop even if the roles are reversed.

The hands that bind me Dean is struggling with adjusting back into the civilized world after a year of fighting for his life in Purgatory. He's going to need some angelic assistance reining in his darker impulses.

If your’re into BDSM/Sub!Dean/Dom!Cas/Hurt/Confort/Dark themes then that’s the fic for you.

What has eight tentacles and isn’t allowed to eat pie? Dean is an octopus 🐙 and it’s weird but also kinda sweet.

Cuckoo and nest For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. it puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless.

Established relationship/ they’re really bad at communication/ fluff / hurt confort

Put up your dukes Dean can't sleep. Cas offers to tire him out.

Along my restless palms Ever since Cas started staying in the bunker, Dean’s been having these crazy dreams—dreams that feature him and Cas in absurd, tawdry scenarios like something out of a filthy paperback. Dean chalks it up to exhaustion, or some monster messing with his head, anything to ignore the real cause: Cas in his personal space, in various states of undress, and, wow, way more muscular than Dean would’ve expected. But if it’s just physical lust that’s the cause, then that’s an easy fix, right? No big deal. There’s definitely nothing else that his subconscious is trying to tell him. Absolutely not.

last but not least Pretty much anything by xylodemon. The atmosphere and the way characters are portrayed are *chef kiss* There are a lor of case fics and they really feels like actual episodes from supernatural just way less omophobic and more fun.

[impaladolan]

Home Alone - Grayson Dolan

summary: after a long week of work, y/n needs some sort of relaxation and relief. although, her outlook on relieving her frustrations isn’t what grayson had in mind...

warnings: tid bit fluffy, swearing, vibrator use, & smut

a/n: been in my unfinished drafts for a bit..

"Are you sure you don't want to tag along, baby?" Grayson longingly questioned, his brows crinkled and his lips almost forming a pout.

"I haven't been able to do laundry all week. God knows it won't get done unless I do it now." Y/N chuckles, balancing a full basket of freshly dried clothes on her hip, watching her lover wrap his fist around the front door's handle.

Every other weekend, at the Dolan residences, the two brothers, and sometimes their wives, would gather with some of their friends and watch their favorite football teams. And later on, they'd play board games or watch some movies. Normally, Y/N would be the one begging Grayson to hurry up and get ready to attend the biweekly event, except this time.

Y/N has different plans...

It had been a brutal week at work, her boss was currently taking out her "divorce emotions" on her employees and Y/N was getting the rougher end of it. She was relieved when it was finally the weekend and she could stress clean, calm her nerves in some sort of self efficient way and relax after a tough couple days.

She hadn't even had the thought of a sexual release, until she had dreamt multiple naughty scenarios just last night during her deep slumber. She couldn't exactly pinpoint what all she had dreamed, but she remembers waking up with a dripping arousal and a sore ache at her very center. And though her husband was laid right next to her, perfectly capable of satisfying her womanly needs, she decided using other resources would be a better fit.

Don't get her wrong, she loves being pleasured by the only man who knows exactly how to, but she felt embarrassed. She didn't want to come across as a sex-crazed women to Grayson, even though it would never make a difference to him.

They're married, for goodness sake.

"I can stay back and help out. We could even have our own little movie night if you wanted," He began, releasing his hand from the door and taking a few steps toward Y/N, whose lips turned into a cheesy smile as he drew closer to her.

"Just you and me," He took the basket filled with clothes from her hip and set it on the floor, intertwining his large hands with her smaller ones, eliciting a short laugh from Y/N. He brought her closer to his frontside, creating a ballroom dance-like formation and began shuffling around with her in his arms. Like an old married couple, they slowly danced around the room, him twirling her in his grasp while Y/N admirably gazed upon him.

Her cheeks were rosy with admiration, finding his little act of affection adorable. "You get easily distracted, huh?" Y/N grinned, resting her chin happily on his shoulder, his minuscule beard hairs tickling certain parts of her neck.

"Well, you looked too pretty over here by yourself," He softly explained against her ear. "And I wanted to dance around a room with a beautiful woman like you. So, I am." He lowered his hands beneath her and slew her into a romantic dip, planting a sweet kiss upon her lips. She returned one back, feeling her heart grow two sizes larger, much like the Grinch movie portrays, if anything.

"Grayson, I know how much you enjoy football, especially with the boys," She was only making excuses, but he had tempted her to just cuddle on the couch all day and watch plethoras of movies and munch on various snacks. But the low rattle in the depths her core was motioning her in a different way, and she just couldn't survive the rest of the day without fixing her little problem.

"Hmm, you're right. But when I get back, we're ordering take out and watching movies. Got it?" He chuckles, bringing the both of them back up into a standing position.

"M'hm, be safe." Y/N smiles, planting another kiss on her lover's lips before leaving his warmth. She waved goodbye to him as he left their abode, sweetly grinning as she went back to finishing up the laundry before the real reason she was staying home, would begin.

Though the couple's intimate relations seemed innocent and loving, they each had a different side to them, specifically in the bedroom.

The two never shied away from new experiences and would most certainly dabble into different areas of the "sex world," if you will. They, of course, had their preferences and different kinks, but Y/N seemed to be more open and freeing for that sort of stuff.

For the different occasions that they felt a bit more lustful and yearning for one another, they kept a locked trunk of knickknacks in their closet. You see, that's the one Grayson knows about, but Y/N keeps a smaller one, filled to the brim with all of her own toys, in a section of her closet that he never really pays attention to. If he had any idea that she kept self-pleasuring items for her own uses, he'd be absolutely ballistic.

Thankfully, he doesn't...

The moment Y/N threw the last bits of dirty laundry left, into the washer, she practically sprinted to their shared bedroom. After rummaging through the trunk filled with "accessories," she found a nice, pretty pink vibrator to do the trick, as well as a black silk blindfold to shield her own eyes. She was already rid of her clothes and sprawled across the wide bed in an instance, tying the piece of cloth over her eyes. 

Though, unbeknownst to Y/N, Grayson was already on his way back home. As soon as he had pulled into his brother's driveway, they had called to cancel— a certain emergency about something Grayson didn't really pay attention to listen to. He was thrilled that he didn't have to leave Y/N at home, all by herself to do chores all day. And luckily, their houses weren't too far apart from each other, so Grayson was back home within fifteen minutes of leaving it.

He didn't feel the need to text Y/N, she was probably busy anyway and possibly wouldn't respond. He figured she would hear the garage door open and expect that he was already home.

Little does he know...

As soon as he was parked and out of his vehicle, Grayson was trudging down stairs to the laundry room, in search of Y/N. He was surprised that she wasn't there, but he figured she might just be folding on the couch, trying to get ahead on one of the TV series the two were drawn into.

Grayson chuckles as he makes his way back upstairs, though his brows curtly furrow, his ears almost perking at the muffled sounds coming from the hallway.

Their shared room, to be precise.

With a pondering look upon his face, he kicks off his shoes and makes his way towards his bedroom, quietly twisting the door handle and pushing it inward. He opens the door wide enough to secretly look inside, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness that enveloped the entire expanse. The noises he had heard only seconds ago were more prominent, and his eyes had fallen on the object creating the aroused sounds;

Y/N.

She was laid out on their bed, legs wide open and shaking while her hands were constantly pressuring a fucking sex toy against her soaked pussy. Grayson froze, pure anger washing over him and turning his face a turbulent shade of red, washing away his pleasant mood. He almost stormed in there, ready to rip the stupid machine away from her hands and show her what a real orgasm feels like.

But he somehow contained himself, and instead, watched the scene play out in front of his very own eyes, vexation spilling from his entire countenance.

Y/N didn't hear the garage door open and close, or even the beep of Grayson's truck when he locked it.  She hadn't even heard his feet stomping up and down the stairs, or his lingering chuckles. She was so caught up in how she was feeling.

The artificial vibrations that buzzed upon her core made the world around her so euphoric and heavenly. She'd brush the toy upon her clit, forcing her entire body shake with deep pleasure and a soft moan to emit from her mouth. It felt so nice, and she was so close to the brink of releasing.

She was already feeling better, and naughty. If Grayson were to find her this way, masturbating  freely in the open and satisfying herself, she would never live to see another day. But she didn't care at this point, she just wanted to finally cum.

And she was extremely close.

Her hips began to buckle, while her backside rose from the bed and her free hand twisted at the sheets beneath her. "Mm- just a little more—" Her entire core was pulsating, so fucking close to just letting go.

So close..

"Don't fucking cum yet, slut." Grayson's voice boomed throughout the room, making Y/N's movements freeze in terror and shock. Before she could think of some sort of explanation or reasoning as to what she's doing, her blindfold is ripped from her eyes, while the vibrator that was once nuzzled up on her pussy, was taken away as well. Now, she felt so empty and wanting, edged to an almost release.

"Jesus- You're fucking dripping, for fucksake." His tone was harsh, and Y/N felt like crying. She held onto her tears as she watched him examine the drenched vibrator, still buzzing in his hands. Out of the loss of contact, she began to whine, squeezing her thighs together to create at least a little bit of friction.

"Grayson, please—" She began to huff, but her shuttering voice was interrupted by the aggravated man pacing in front of her.

"I don't think I fucking asked you to talk, did I?" He glared at her, though just the sight of Y/N's exposed body made him shudder with a tinge of want.

Against his wishes, Y/N continued her whines, her breathing still ragged and finally her own hand traveling down to her soaked heat. She didn't care if she'd be in more trouble, she just needed to unravel the knot inside her, whether she'd pay for that mistake later or if not.

She didn't get far, because Grayson caught her wrist before it made it all the way down to her center, and brought it up to the headboard. He wrapped a leather strip around both of her wrists, mumbling incoherent spews of anger, doing the same with her ankles against the bedposts.

"I-I, I thought you were gonna watch football.." She began, but a low growl sounded from Grayson, and the blindfold was placed back over her eyes, while a different type of cloth was shoved in her mouth. Y/N feels the numbing slap across her thigh before hearing the connection's sound, an exasperated scream muffling out of her filled mouth.

"I'd stop talking if I were you. Unless you want to be choked by Daddy’s fucking cock, darling." His voice rattled her insides, and she dared not to make another sound, already dug far too deep in a hole anyway. "Get ready princess, m'gonna edge the fuck out of you. Maybe then, you'll remember to ask me for permission to use your fucking toys." His voice soon faded from her ears as a higher vibration than before was nudged right up against her swollen clit, making her figure convulse in imploding pleasure.

It took an entire hour for Grayson to edge Y/N twelve fucking times. She was a mess, sweat droplets dotting her hairline while her pussy remained in slippery shambles. He didn't say a word, and Y/N held her tongue from shouting profanities after the several losses of contact. She hadn't came yet, but if she didn't soon— she would find a way to get out of her restraints and finish off what she had started herself.

It had been several minutes since Grayson had pulled her to the brink of an orgasm, and she was starting to think that he'd never come back. She had heard the sound of a zipper earlier, and she couldn't tell if he was doing something to ease his own pain while she laid there, so high strung and breathless. She was about to call out his name, but the warmth of his tongue wrapped around her bundle of nerves and she let out an exasperated sigh, pulling on the cuffs tied around her wrists.

He slipped his tongue in skillful motions, his hands pushing up underneath her thighs as he lapped up her liquids. Y/N was so sensitive to touch, anything that remotely stroked her could heighten her arousal and make her lust for more.

Within seconds, her hips were shaking and her back arched above the mattress, her toes curling under the pressure. And his voice finally sang the heavenly words she had been waiting for the entire time;

"Cum, princess."

Y/N released all over his lips, a high-pitched scream sounding from her mouth as she finally unravels, her legs bucking against their restraints. She spits out the cloth from her mouth and heavily breathes, murmuring praises to the man between her legs.

"I'm sorry, Grayson."

a/n: did this completely suck? i haven’t really written in third person in awhile, so i need honest opinions..

[jisungsplatforms]

Dahlia

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x gn! reader

Genre: angst; hanahaki au, non idol au

Warning: language, mentions of cheating, tiny tiny spoilers & allusions to some of my other fics if you squint hard enough. Some elements of Felix x reader (purely platonic tho)

Note: this does NOT portray Stray Kids’ true personalities. This is all purely FICTIONAL

*this is one of my longest fics i’ve ever written so sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.

(Based off of (G) i-dle’s “Dahlia)

(Page II)

Dahlia:

“Signifies a lasting bond and commitment between two people;

symbolizes elegance, inner strength , change, and dignity...”

Hwang Hyunjin is bad news.

He’s a player, he’ll leave once he gets bored of you.

Hwang is no good for you. You deserve so much better, Y/n.

That was all you heard ever since you started dating Hyunjin. Different variations of it, all with the same connotation. People warned you, left and right, whenever they saw you two together. But you didn’t care, you choose to love him anyways, despite the rumors you’ve heard about him. It was all...

...Blind love. Sure, you fall in love fast, and every single time, you’ve been cheated on; but you knew that he was different, you could feel it. You had faith in Hyunjin.

Today was your one year anniversary. You sighed at the calendar hanging on your wall, a vase with a single dahila (given by Hyunjin a few weeks ago) sat on a table beside it.

“Did you know back then, lovers used to gift their beloved dahlias as a sign of everlasting love and commitment?” Hyunjin said with a pretty smile, holding a bouquet of a dozen dahlias.

“Oh really now?” you giggled, taking the bouquet into your hands. “Are you trying to tell me something?” You tilted your head, your eyebrows raised playfully.

“Hmm. Only that I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he cheekily said. “And that I will love you, and only you, even for the our next 100 lifetimes.”

You writhed in giddiness, touched by his words. “I can’t wait then,” you said, planting a soft kiss onto his plump lips, the two of you smiling into the kiss.

That was a year ago; 3 months into your relationship, probably the happiest year you’ve ever had. Every day with Hyunjin felt magical, like it was too good to be true. He was nothing but gentle with you. He held your hand as if you were glass. His eyes stared into yours as if you had the shiniest of diamonds for eyes. His beautiful smile always made your heart flutter, but his kisses was what really did the job. You thought that you could never had enough of him. You were his princess and he’s your prince charming.

But little did you know that the magic will soon wear off...

You stared at your phone in sheer disappointment.

Sorry, I can’t make it today. Something really important came up and I can’t miss it.

-was what was written on your screen, sent by your boyfriend. Bringing the phone closer to your face, you replied.

Really? You can’t skip it? Or even do it later?

Nope. Sorry, babe. There’s nothing I can do.

Oh...okay then.

Cheer up, babe. We’ll just go on a date on another day! I’ll make it up to you. Promise! :)

‘Go on a date on another day’ For some reason, reading that message shot a pang of hurt through your chest. To you, it basically implied that today was supposed to be just ‘another date’ for you guys.

Did he...forget that it’s our one year today? you thought sadly at the possibility as you put your phone down. Shaking your head, you tried to erase the negative thoughts from your mind. No no no, Hyunjin wouldn’t have forgotten. He was the one who even arranged the date! You held your cheeks in your hands. Sighing, you stood up to leave your bedroom to get a glass of water, feeling a heaviness to your chest. A million thoughts ran through your head as you made your way to the kitchen.

Is it possible that he really did forget?

Is he lying to me?

Am I just overthinking things again?

Or did he finally get...bored of me?

Looking back, you started to think about how lately, Hyunjin has been cancelling and rescheduling your dates. Every time you text him, asking him to come over, he’d reply with something along the line of “can’t i’m busy. sorry.” Of course you felt hurt, but you always told yourself, he’s a busy man. We don’t always have to be together.

And of course, you werent oblivious to how every month, the amount of dahlias Hyunjin used to give you slowly decreased. Once a dozen dahlias became only 8. 8 slowly became half a dozen. Then 6 became only 3. But you’ve convinced yourself that you didn’t need flowers to determine how in love you were, telling yourself how expensive live flowers actually are, so it makes sense he’ll end up giving less flowers. That’s it. That’s what you’ve conditioned your mind to think.

You’ve convinced yourself that Hyunjin truly is a good guy.

You didn’t even realize you were already in your kitchen until you felt yourself holding the cup to your mouth, the cool liquid making it’s way down your esophagus. You put the cup onto the counter, mindlessly staring at it. Maybe your were just overthinking things. That’s it.

Trudging back to the bedroom, you sat on the edge of your bed, sighing heavily, trying to contain the tears that were threatening to come out. Your lit up with a notification.

—

From Lixie Ramsay 🧑‍🍳🍽

—

Hey Y/n, are you feeling well?

Seeing a text from Felix, you grabbed your phone.

Not really. How’d you know??

Idk. I guess you can call it...best friend telepathy :D

You smiled, typing in another reply.

Well thank GOD for bsf telepathy cause I feel like shit rn.

Overthinking again?

Yes :(

Aww sorry to hear that dude :((

Wait. What happened with Hyunjin? Isn’t it your anniversary today?

Your heart ached at the message, the good mood you were slowly feeling again plummeted. Luckily, Felix noticed how long you were taking to reply to him.

Ah nvm... Anyways, I’m pretty much free rn so that meeaannnsss...I’ll take you out on a date instead!

Even though you were wallowing in misery, you couldn’t help but tease him.

You? Pass

How rude. And here I am being the greatest friend anyone could ask for, and you have the audacity to be picky?

Have fun with your pity party then, best friend

You sniggered at his reply. No no. I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’ll take up your offer LOL

Good. Be ready in about 20 mins. I’m coming over so we can go to the café together!

Okayyy :D

You got up and put on a nice, but comfortable outfit to go out in with your best friend.

You were just sitting on your couch, awaiting for Felix’s arrival when you heard a knock on your door.

“Y/n! It’s meee~!” came his loud, deep voice. You chortled as you got up from your couch, making sure everything was secured before going to your door. You opened it to see Felix’s bright smile greeting you.

You giggled, opening the door wider. “‘Sup, bro,” you nodded your head. Felix returned the gesture.

“‘Sup. You ready?”

“Yup! Let’s go.” Before you could get out of your house, Felix stopped you.

“Wait wait! I have something for you!” he lightly pushed you back inside. Only then did you notice that he was holding a single sunflower in his left hand. Your eyes widened a little, confused.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“A sunflower!”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Duh, I know that, but what’s it for?”

Felix beamed. “Well, I knew that you were feeling sad today, and I heard from someone that sunflowers are known as “happy flowers”, so I thought that I should give you one! To cheer you up!”

You looked at the flower in awe, incredibly touched by his gesture. “Lix...” you trailed off, feeling happy tears beginning to prick your eyes. You took the sunflower from his hands and stared at it, already feeling the positive vibes radiating from it.

“I know, I know. I’m the bestest best friend anyone could ask for. Now let’s go! I’ve been dying to try the carrot cake in that new café a few blocks down!” Felix said, sliding his arm to yours, “I heard that they have one of the best carrot cakes in town.”

You looked up from the flower to look at him, grinning. “Thank you so much for this, dude. I really appreciate it.”

Felix shrugged with a small smile on his face. “It’s the least I could do. Really.” He waited for you as you locked your front door, arms still linked, then making your way to go to the café Felix has been dying to go to.

The two of you walked together, catching up on each other’s current events going on in your lives, seeing how you weren’t able to for the past two weeks. Right now, Felix was telling you about a certain crush he has in one of his classes.

“Ooh, so, have you tried asking them out? Or even just told them that you’re interested or something, in the very least?” you wiggled your eyebrows. In response, he sucked in his breath a little. His face contorted in a slight grimace.

“I...tried to...” He said with his teeth clenched. You looked at him in puzzled.

“What do you mean ‘tried to’, Lix?” you asked. “It’s either you did or you didn’t.”

Felix sighed in embarrassment, his mind wandering back to the memory. “I sorta might’ve accidentally revealed that I liked them but sorta might’ve got embarrassed and accidentally took it back?”

“What?” you deadpanned.

“Okay okay. It’s dumb. I know. But they were so SO cute just talking, TALKING, and it just slipped out, I guess!” he said, exasperatedly. “I really couldn’t help it! Honest! So, I just panicked and covered it up by saying ‘I’m so lucky to have a friend like you'”

You looked at him blankly, slowly unlinking your arms. “Oh no,” you sighed, slightly shaking your head. “Oh baby nooo...”

“Yeah. I’m pathetic, I know.”

You hummed in pity, patting his shoulder. “A little, yeah, but it’s okay. Things like that happen, unfortunately. Don’t worry though, it’s not like it’s the end of the world,” you grinned, “You’ll have a lot more chances to actually confess in the near future.”

Felix nodded, crooning. “You’re right, Y/n. Thanks,” he said, giving you a hug as he gave you his well-renowned sunshine-like smile that you couldn’t help but smile back.

“No problem.”

Topic after topic, the two of you were so immersed in your conversation that you guys arrived at the café.

“Finally!” you cheered. “That was a surprisingly long walk.”

Felix sighed. “For real. But on the bright side: carrot cake!”

“Is the carrot cake even that good?”

“Dunno. Only one way to find out!” Felix walked a few steps ahead of you to open the door for you when he suddenly stopped. His whole body went rigid. In a blink of an eye, he turned around, gently pushing you away from the building. “Darn. What a shame, it’s full today. Oh well,” he frantically stated.

You glanced back behind him to check the inside yourself, only to see that it was only half full.

“What’re you talking about? There’s totally enough space for us. Let’s go.”

Felix’s face was full of dread. His body was stiff, his eyes shook a little as he maintained eye contact with you. He was nervous, and you could tell.

“You’re not okay. Is there someone in there you wanna avoid?” you said in urgency.

“Uhm. You could say that,” he murmured, looking down. Looking back up to see if there were any shifty looking faces that were in desperate need of a beating, your heart dropped in horror and dispair. Through the window, you saw Hyunjin, your boyfriend, sitting with a pretty looking lady. You watched them with woeful eyes as they smiled and laugh with each other. You couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to. You wanted to believe that this was all a misunderstanding. You only snapped out of it when you felt Felix’s small, warm hands.

“Let’s-uh- let’s just go, yeah?” he said quietly. Nodding mindlessly, you let him lead to somewhere else. Anywhere but here. Felix rubbed your back, trying to give you any kind of hug he could give you as you walked away. You tried your best to push back the cough making it’s way to your throat. Good thing Felix was guiding you the entire way, others you would’ve fallen due to your blurry eyesight.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your ear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

It’s okay. You have nothing to apologize for, is what you wanted to tell him. But you couldn’t, for if you do, you might end up breaking down in the middle of the streets. You breathed heavily, containing both your tears and the pressure down in your chest and throat.

You snuggled closer to your thick blankets, trying to assimilate the warm you crave for from it. Felix was by your side, rubbing soothing circle to your back. You guys never went to go to another café. Instead, he led you home, seeing how it wasn’t the right time for you two to go out. You appreciated his gesture. It makes you wonder why can’t every guy be like your best friend, your brother, your soulmate. Felix let out a long exhale.

“Man, I-I’m sorry you had to see that, especially on your anniversary,” he soft said. Felix was furious, not only at Hyunjin, but himself as well. He felt like he couldn’t protect you, like he failed as your best friend.

“It’s okay, Lix. I’m fine,” you murmured. “Actually,” you paused, “I’m not fine. But you don’t have to apologize for something like this. This had nothing to do with you.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Im just frustrated, you know. I’m mad that you’re hurting like this.”

“Yeah me too,” you said emptily. “I just hope that this was just a misunderstanding.”

“He better damn well make sure that it’s just a misunderstanding,” he grumbled. “Otherwise i’m gonna have to settle some things with him. Hope he knows that i’m a black belt in Taekwondo.”

You snorted. “Thanks, Felix.”

“I will have a ‘chat’ with him. Mark my words.”

You laughed at him. You could faintly feel the angst in your heart lessen, but not completely go away. Hearing your front door unlock, you stiffened. You tried your best to not look at it.

“Babe! I’m here!” Hyunjin’s voice rang at the entrance. You felt Felix’s hold on your form tighten. Hyunjin walked closer to you two.

“Hey, Felix,” he said flatly. “didn’t know you were coming here.”

“Hmm.” Felix nodded his head, not even trying to make eye contact with the tall brunette. Hyunjin nodded back in annoyance.

“Anyways, you can leave now,” he sneered with his jaw clenched. “Your job is done. Now it’s my turn to spend time with my beloved.”

Both you and Felix tensed at his words. He looked down to look for your approval. Seeing your unsure nod, he hesitantly let go of you, watching you as he does so.

“It’s okay,” you mouthed to him. He made a sharp breath as he stood up, still refusing to look Hyunjin in the eye.

“Goodbye,” Felix called out, more to you than the other. You felt a sense of foreboding when you heard the door shut. From your side, Hyunjin let out a harsh groan.

“Finally,” he said, sitting down as he wrapped his arm around you. You couldn’t let yourself relax in his arms like how you’d usually to. You just felt uneasy in his presence right now. “So? How was you day? Missed me?” Hyunjin asked. You couldn’t take it anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to pretend anymore.

“Are you cheating on me?” you more declared than asked as you sat up straight. Hyunjin’s eyes widened for a millisecond, a flash of fear in his eyes, but he just played it off.

“How could you accuse me of something like that?” he said, defensively. “I’m your boyfriend. Don’t you trust me?”

You bit your lip nervously. “I saw you, Hyunjin. At the café.” His face contorted in panic but quickly masked it as disbelief.

He scoffed, “Well you saw wrong, Y/n. That was just a friend, I would NEVER cheat on you.” He shook his head disappointingly, removing his arm from you. “I can’t believe that you would ever doubt me, babe. I’m actually really hurt by this right now.”

You felt a wave of guilt rush over you.

“Oh...I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I just thought-“

“You thought what? That the rumors were true?” Hyunjin laughed sarcastically. “Man, and here I thought that you were different.”

Your eyes teared up even more as the guilt inside your chest increased. Was I really wrong? you thought. “No! I’m-I’m sorry, Hyunie! I didn’t know! I just felt hurt because today was su-”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s okay. Let me just, be alone for a while, Y/n.” Hyunjin quietly got up and walked out of your house. You walked as he slammed the door on his way out, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. You were starting to regret letting Felix leave. The air around turn colder in your empty apartment.

It was supposed to be our one year anniversary, you thought, finally letting your tears out. And yet again, you tried controlling the tickling down your throat.

“He told you WHAT?” Felix exclaimed, looking at you incredulously. You had to shush him when you noticed some of the other people in the coffe shop giving you both tiny glares.

“He told me that it was just a friend that he had to me,” you said, quietly. “And that he would never cheat on me. He also said that felt hurt that I didn’t trust him, so I felt bad cause he did looked super upset.”

Felix rolled his eyes as he let out a sardonic “ha”. “That’s rich. Coming from him?” You let out a tiny pout.

“I don’t know, Lix. He seemed like he was telling the truth though?”

“Yeah, seemed, Y/n. I don’t know if you should trust him anymore. And besides, it even sounded like he was trying to make you feel bad instead of apologizing.”

“Well yeah cause-” Felix cut you off, holding up his hand to stop you from saying anything else.

“That’s gaslighting, bud. A huge red flag if you ask me. He didn’t even remember that it was your anniversary!”

Scrunching your eyebrows, you pondered upon Felix’s words. You knew he was right, but you really wanted to give Hyunjin the benefit of a doubt. All of a sudden, you felt a pressure in your chest. In need of relief, you coughed into the juncture of your arm. Felix winced in pity.

“Ooh, sounds nasty. You good there?”

You nodded as you continued coughing, giving him a thumbs up. Once you finish with your fit, you cleared your throat a little, grabbing the water bottle beside you to drink.

“Mhmm, yeah. Just a tickle, that’s all.”

“You sure? You’ve started coughing since yesterday,” Felix stated. “Are you sure you aren’t getting sick cause of the weather or stress or something?”

“Uhh nah. I don’t think so,” you said. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Felix hummed, totally unconvinced by your reasoning. He knew deep down something was wrong; he just didn’t know what. It was quiet for a while until Felix up at the window and let out a little gasp. You raised your eyebrows at this, silently asking him what’s wrong. He glared a little at the window before turning to you.

“Hate to do this but look. Behind you, don’t make it obvious.”

You slightly turned your head to see what he was looking at. Your eyes widened. You saw Hyunjin and the same girl from 2 days ago, passing by at the other side of the window, hand in hand. You watched in disbelief as the girl tipped toed to kiss his cheek while he giggles. You quickly turned your head in the other direction to avoid him as they walked by, feeling the pressure in your chest worsen. It hurt even more when you remember the small bouquet of dahilas in her hands. You felt your eyes burning with tears, sucking in deep breaths. Turns out that that was a mistake.

You calming yourself back-fired. You ended up having a coughing fit; but it didn’t feel like any cough you’ve ever had. It felt way heavier, like you were almost suffocating. Bringing a fist to your chest, you pounded on it as if it would help. You didn’t know if the tears in your eyes was from the couch or seeing your bastard of a boyfriend. You couldn’t even open them so you opted to just keeping them shut .

“Y/n?!” Felix yelled out in alarm. You felt him come up behind you, rubbing your back. “Oh shit...” you heard him breathed out. You slowly opened your eyes and turned to him. He looked frantic, but he wasn’t staring at you, rather on the floor. You looked back to see dahlia petals on the floor.

Huh? you thought in bewilderment. Last time you checked, there wasn’t any plants in the shop, aside for the plastic Swiss Cheese plants in the corners of the place, if they even count at all.

Felix noticed your gaze on the petals. “That shit’s from you,” he pointed out. “We need to get you to a hospital. ASAP.”

You looked at him weakly. “But-“

“NOW, Y/n.”

“I- what?” you gasped in horror.

“You’ve, unfortunately, contracted the Hanahaki Disease,” the doctor announced in sympathy. Felix rushed you to the nearest hospital after your little scene. When you arrived there and told the receptionist at the entrance, she immediately paged you to the emergency room. You were scared. You didn’t know what was so urgent to rush you to an emergency room.

“Hantahapki? What the hell is that?” Felix asked, coming out rather aggressively. He was horrified; who wouldn’t be if they witnessed their best friend coughing out flower petals.

“Hanahaki,” the doctor subtly corrected, “It’s a rare disease that makes you cough out petals. Not many people gets it.”

Your heart beak was fast. If it was rare, then who knows what could happen.

“Okay, Hanahaki. So do you know how Y/n got it?”

The doctor removed her glasses and put it on the desk beside her. “Well, though it is a rare disease, we do know enough about it,” she declared. “The Hanahaki disease, fortunately, isn’t contagious and is only produced from unrequited love.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “So it is true. He doesn’t love me anymore,” you muttered. You felt the familiar pressure in your chest so you relieved yourself, petals spewing as you coughed. Felix immediately rubbed your back in alarm.”

“Is there anyway to treat it, doc?” he worriedly questioned. The doctor nodded.

“Yes actually. One option is for the patient’s love to be returned by the recipient,” your heart dropped a little hearing this “-or the other is to undergo surgery.”

“Surgery?” you both inquired at the same time.

The doctor nodded again. “Yes, surgery, our safest option. However, doing so will result in Y/n loosing all feelings of love altogether.”

“So what you’re saying is,” you said slowly. “-if I do the procedure, I won’t be able to love again?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Romantic love that is. You can still love people platonicly, like your friend over here,” she said gesturing to Felix. “Family and friends, basically. You just can’t have romantic feelings for anyone else, even if you really wanted to.”

You and Felix looked at each other in sorrow. “I,” Felix started off, “really think you should do it.”

You bit your lip as you shook your head. “I don’t know. This is a pretty big decision. Can’t I just, like, think about it for a while? Before I really decide if I want to do this?”

“Of course you can, Y/n,” the doctor said. “Just don’t take too long making a decision, okay? Because it will kill you, if you don’t decide on time.”

The two of you looked up at her in horror. “KILL?!”

She winced a little at your loud voices, prompting the two of you to apologize. “Yes, kill. Those aren’t just petals coming out of no where.” She gestured to the pile between the tree of you. “They have to produce somewhere. At first they’ll start of as a little bud, that’s why as of now, you’re only coughing out several petals each cough, eventually getting bigger and bigger until the flower in your lungs fully bloom, which could end up bursting out of your chest.”

Felix turned to you in pure terror, slightly shaking you. “I REALLY think you should do the surgery today.” You brushed him off of you.

“Okay yeah, that’s terrifying, but I won’t be able to love ever again, Lix!” you countered. He look at you like you were crazy.

“You won’t be able to feel ANYTHING if you don’t!”

You contemplated on the situation. You didn’t know what to do. The doctor interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Don’t worry, Y/n you have about a few weeks minimum to make a decision. Luckily you came to us the day you started coughing out the petals. Otherwise, if it happened earlier and you kept it to yourself, you might’ve...you know.” You shook your head in acknowledgment.

“Yeah. Okay, thank you, doc.”

It’s been 5 days since you’ve been to the hospital; 5 days you’ve been diagnosed with the Hanahaki Disease; 5 days since you’ve last seen Hyunjin.

You still weren’t sure if you wanted to undergo the procedure. Felix said that this was the best option, but you didn’t want to listen. You still had hope in your heart that maybe, just maybe, Hyunjin still loves you deep down. You heard your phone ding from the table. You picked it up and saw that is was from your “boyfriend”.

Hey! Haven’t seen each other in a while. Wanna talk?

Your heart sped up. You didn’t know if it was from excitement that he finally contacted you, or fear that you might end up finding out the whole truth. Your fingers typed out a reply.

Yeah, come over today. I’ve missed you

Liar, you thought to yourself.

Sure! See you soon!

:)

You typed out your final reply, burying your face into the throw pillows.

A knock was heard from your door, signaling Hyunjin’s arrival. You tensed buy quickly calmed yourself down. You got up to let him in. You were greeted by his big smile, which you knew now was fake.

“Hey, babe! I’ve missed you!” he cheered.

Fucking liar. Putting one a fake smile, you said a quick “miss you too” and let him in. Closing the door, you gave yourself a mental pep talk before going straight to the point. You turned around to face him

“You’re cheating on me,” you stated, emotionlessly. You didn’t even say it as if it was a question, you knew. Hyunjin looked panic before composing himself.

“Again, Y/n? I told you, it-”

“I SAW YOU, HYUNJIN!” you cried out, not even containing your emotions anymore. “I SAW YOU OUTSIDE OF THE CAFÉ. I SAW YOU HOLDING HANDS. I SAW HER KISS YOU AND YOU DIDNT PUSH HER AWAY. IN FACT, IT LOOKED LIKE YOU ENJOYED IT.” You walked quickly towards him to push his chest.

“WHAT’S WORSE WAS THAT I SAW THE DAHLIAS YOU GAVE HER, A FLOWER THAT YOU SAID WAS SPECIAL TO US!” you fell to the floor, sobbing. The jig was up, Hyunjin knew.

“I trusted you Hyunjin...I really did. I even convinced myself that you weren’t like the rumors said,” you said weakly, already too tired to scream. “I love you. How could you do this to me?”

Hyunjin watched as you broke down. He didn’t know what to say; how to comfort you. He couldn’t even lie to you anymore. He felt bad for you. But he could’nt deny that he’s lost feelings for you.

“I’m sorry...”

Hearing this made you cry even more, you cradled your chest as you sank deeper to the floor. He didn’t even deny it. He didn’t even try comforting you. You heard his heavy footsteps leave your house, closing the door behind him. Your heart lurked even more. So this is it, you thought.

It hurts.

It hurts so fucking bad.

You were used to being cheated and lied to, so why did it? You clutched your burning chest, trying to regulate your breathing. More tears spilled out of your eyes.

It was because you genuinely loved Hyunjin.

You couldn’t take it anymore, you started wheezing out the dahlia petals out of your chest. A bunch of petals flew out of your mouth. You couldn’t breathe. It was too much. You crawled to your phone to call Felix. It rang once, twice, before he finally answered.

“Y/n?”

You could’ve even speak anymore, the room started spinning, your vision started blurring.

“Lix...hospital...” you managed to let out before collapsing.

“Y/n? Y/n!”

You woke up to the sound of beeping. You looked around and noticed that you weren’t home anymore. You tried getting up, flinching when the IV bag connected to you stopped you.

Ah, I’m at the hospital.

You laid back down and relaxed, trying to relive what happened last time you were awake. All you remember were blurry images of you crying, petals, hearing Felix’s panicked voice, then nothing. You eyes shot open at the thought.

Felix?!

You looked around the room to finally see him sleeping in the corner. You could faintly distinguish the dried tear marks on his freckled face.

He must’ve been here for a while.

The door know turned to reveal the same doctor to diagnosed you a few days prior. “Hello, Y/n,” she greeted, standing by your bed. “Seems like you’re doing well now.” You nodded. You tried speaking to answer her, only to find that you couldn’t because of how dry your throat was. The doctor noticed this and shook her head.

“Don’t. Just rest, it’s okay.”

You bowed you head as a slight thank you. She walked closer to you to pat your head.

“Congratulations, the procedure was a success.”

You eyes widened at the implication. So that’s why you’re here. It all made sense now. You have her a smile as you gave a raspy “thank you.” She talked to you for a while before deciding to leave you to rest a little more. She announced you could be discharged from the hospital by tomorrow.

You felt a little disappointed that you couldn’t love anymore, but still overall glad that you’re still alive. You glanced at the papers the doctor left on the table beside you, grabbing it to read it a little just to see that is was just your information. Beside it, you saw that she also left a cup of water for you. You gulped it down, letting out a relieved “ah” went you finished.

You didn’t want to think about anything right now, and you sure as hell didn’t even want to think about your now ex-boyfriend. You closed your eyes to think about what went wrong in your life. Especially now that you have to live without loving anything the way you want to. You contemplated with an emptiness in your chest.

.

.

.

Our love is-

“...however, they do carry negative connotations;

betrayal, dishonesty, instability.”

-Dahlia

—————————————————————————

(Case #XX1-

Name: Y/n L/n

Patient: Cured; Discharged: XX,XX,XXXX at XX:XX)

——————————————————————————

(Back to Page I)

A/N: PHEW FINALLY DONE WITH THE FIRST PART OF THE SERIES. IVE BEEN EXCITED TO WRITE THIS FIC FOR A LOOONG TIME. (G) I-dle’s “Dahlia” is what inspired me to start the Hanahaki series so THANK YOU MINNIE

[rejectofsociety]

We’ll Get Old If We’re Lucky

Summary:

He reaches forward and holds her hand and she presses her lips into a thin smile. Then she sighs, wipes off the wound again, and reaches for the needle and thread.

“Now for the easy part,” she hums.

“Yeah, you’re a pro at this,” Peter agrees as he lets go of her hand.

“Mhm. Now, what did you realize earlier?” Michelle asks, knowing Peter prefers to have his mind busy while getting stitched up.

He thinks a moment about how to word his realization, then says slowly: “everyone’s afraid to die young… but no one wants to be old.”

•••

After Peter comes home with a bullet in his side, he and Michelle discuss growing old, and if they’ll be lucky enough to get there.

Word Count: 2.2k  

Warnings: Cursing, Discussions of Death, a rant disguised as a fic

Read here on Ao3

༺✦✮✦༻

Peter stumbles home at around midnight, quickly being greet by his wife, then scolded by her for bleeding out on her carpet. Michelle then leads him to the bathroom were he collapses onto the tile, rips off his mask, and vomits all over the floor. With a sigh, she cleans him up, cleans up the vomit, kisses the side of his neck, then leans him against the bathtub. He apologizes a few times and she waves him off, then grabs the first aid kit and asks:

“Where should I start?”

“Ummm…” Peter hesitates, “probably here—“ he points to his side which is steadily oozing blood “—I uh… mighta got shot.”

Michelle heaves a sigh and grabs a rag, “I should really just take you to the hospital.”

“No, no, no, no,” Peter says quickly, then winces as a pain shoots up his side, “no, Em. Just… just pull the bullet out, stitch it up— my self-healing factor can do the rest.”

She chews her lip for a moment then nods, “okay, fine. Lay down.”

“Thank you,” Peter replies gratefully then plants a light kiss on her cheek.

She presses the spider symbol on his suit and delicately helps him slide his arms out of the sleeves, then lets the suit fall to his waist. Then, Peter gingerly lays on his back with some assistance from Michelle. She presses a rag to the wound and leans her weight on it, quickly feeling his warm and sticky blood seeping through. Peter props himself up with an elbow to watch her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Peter guiltily mumbles, seeing her grimace.

“It’s fine,” she grunts.

He shifts his weight, frowning slightly at her stiff reply. She doesn’t notice.

After a few minutes of silence, with the only sound being Peter’s occasional grunt or whimper of pain, the bleeding finally slows to a stop. Michelle stands up and washes her hands thoroughly, her sleeves now rolled up past her elbows. Then, she cleans Peter’s wound with hot water and a bit of soap and places a pair of tweezers in boiling water. The entire time her breathing is shuddering and uneven, and her hands shake anxiously.

Of course Peter notices, and while they wait for the tweezers to cool off, he wraps one arm around her and holds her close. She lays her head on his chest and mutters to him:

“I just want you to be okay. I don’t want you to hurt.”

To which he whispers back: “it’s okay, Em. I’m okay.”

Even with the tweezers ready, he holds her a while longer to ease her nerves. She calms slowly, eventually pulling herself together for Peter’s sake. Michelle ties back her hair into a sloppy ponytail to keep it out of her face then grabs the tweezers and sits on her knees at Peter’s side, hunched over the gunshot wound.

“MJ, I just realized something,” he says, before Michelle can even locate the bullet.

“Let me pull this thing out of you, then you can tell me,” she suggests, “I need to focus.”

“That’s fair,” he hums, “don’t mess up.”

“Babe, please.”

“Sorry.”

She smiles lopsidedly, still not taking her eyes off the wound. Peter let out a small sigh, admiring her sharp focus and attentive expression.

“I can see the bullet, it’s not deep,” Michelle observes after a minute.

“Okay,” he speaks calmly, “then you’re going to-“

He cuts himself off as she visibly shudders. Peter frowns then realizes that the reality of pulling a bloody bullet out of her husband has just sunk in.

“It’s okay,” he assures, “you’ll be alright.”

“How do you know that?” She hisses disbelievingly.

“I’ve done it two or three times,” he shrugs, “and if I can do it-“

“Who’ve you pulled a bullet out of?”

“Cindy once and myself two times— yeah, so three times.”

Michelle sits back on her heels and rubs her face with a heavy sigh. She pinches the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut.

“Are you about to sneeze?” Peter asks.

“No, dumbass,” she snaps, “I’m stressed out and trying to stop my brain from falling out of my face.”

“Oh,” he swallows thickly, tasting blood and vomit, “I’m sorry, the blood loss is getting to me.”

Michelle brushes a few loose strands of hair out of her face and huffs, “alright, we’re going to the hospital.”

“No!” Peter cries frantically as he lunges forward and grabs her hand.

Pain ignites his entire body and he freezes, eyes squeezed shut and expression twisted in agony. He squeezes her hand tightly and it’s almost painful, but she doesn’t pull away. She watches him with wide, worried eyes as she gently strokes the back of his hand, as if she can single-handedly ease away the pain.

“No hospitals,” Peter finally croaks out, his voice weak, “please.”

Michelle heaves a sigh and hesitantly nods, “okay… fine. No hospitals.”

He suspires in relief and brings her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly, “thank you, baby.”

She pauses, looking down at the bullet wound then asks: “now, tell me what to do.”

He smiles at her then begins relaying one step after another to her, being as detailed as he can and answering the few questions that she has. She works cautiously and gingerly, pausing when he hisses in pain and waiting for his permission to continue.

When Michelle finally does extract the bullet, coated in crimson and glimmering in the bright bathroom lights, she forces herself not to gag and drops it onto the bloody rag she used to clean Peter’s wound.

“Great job, baby,” Peter praises with a wobbly smile, “told you you’d be alright.”

“I’m never doing that again,” Michelle shudders, “next time we call Cindy or Gwen or anyone.”

He reaches forward and holds her hand and she presses her lips into a thin smile. Then she sighs, wipes off the wound again, and reaches for the needle and thread.

“Now for the easy part,” she hums.

“Yeah, you’re a pro at this,” Peter agrees as he lets go of her hand.

“Mhm. Now, what did you realize earlier?” Michelle asks, knowing Peter prefers to have his mind busy while getting stitched up.

He thinks a moment about how to word his realization, then says slowly: “everyone’s afraid to die young… but no one wants to be old.”

Michelle briefly glances up at him, “yeah, you’re absolutely right.”

“Like, if you die young it’s like… ‘oh they had so much life left in them’ and when you’re old, now you’re— not my words— ugly and helplessly whatever. And no one wants to be that, y’know?” He rambled, “and then there’s the other stuff that comes with being old, like potential illness, aches and pains— all that. But then if you die young, it’s- like- extra devastating or something because it’s normally really unexpected and sometimes— not always, but sometimes— you’re still in really good health and… and I don’t know.”

“There’s no balance,” Michelle finishes for him, “it’s never a good time to die. But if you live quote unquote ‘too long,’ then it’s not a good time to be alive.”

“Exactly. Or at least, that’s how it’s portrayed,” he flinches as the needle jabs him a little too harshly.

“Sorry,” Michelle mumbles.

“It’s okay,” he sighs. Then he goes quiet for a few moments, and when he does talk again, his voice is soft: “I… MJ, I don’t expect myself to live very long.”

He doesn’t say it sadly. It’s matter-of-fact, like a statement that he’s all too sure of. But even if his tone is calm, his words hit Michelle in the chest like a knife and she instantly finds herself swallowing back tears.

“Peter, don’t say that,” she urges.

“I’m sorry, but it’s true,” he says unapologetically, “I mean… it’s not like I want to die young I just feel like I will. And maybe that’s part of the reason why I don’t understand this- this stigma around getting really fucking old. Like, I hope I get so old I can barely walk.”

Michelle hesitates, “… I hope you do too. I just… I really wanna get old with you.”

He nods, “I do, too.”

“Also, I feel like when you get old, there’s less pressure to look good, y’know?” Michelle begins to think, “like, once you reach a certain point, people kinda except that you’re never gonna look as good as you did when you were twenty or whatever. No one really cares to— or wants to— try getting you to dress in something super flattering or skimpy or pressure you into wearing a lot of make up. You can just wear weird grandma clothes and never touch mascara again if you don’t want to. Y’know?”

“To an extent,” Peter replies, “but I am— obviously— male, and the same standards don’t apply to me.”

She chuckles, “that’s my husband.”

“Yes I am,” he grins, “but I kinda get what you’re saying. I mean, the more physically fit a man is, the more and ‘masculine’ they are, the more acceptable they are by society’s standards. Being old, no one cares and you can just be all shriveled up and… floppy.”

Michelle stops what she’s doing to laugh and Peter lets out a short laugh, before gasping at the pain. Michelle pauses and looks at him with wide, worried eyes.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

He chews on his cheek and nods slightly, “yep. I’m great.”

She sighs and continues, “similar thing goes for women. When you’re really old it doesn’t matter if you have a nice ass or boobs or whatever. Everything can just sag.”

He smiles, “being old sounds fucking awesome. Fuck society, honest. We’ll be lucky to get gross and old.”

She beams at him then leans forward and kisses his forehead, “yes, we will.”

Then, she ties off the stitches and cuts the thread and wraps a bandage around his torso. He thanks her then kisses her sweetly and thanks her again. She helps him stand up and lets his spider suit fall to the ground, then she tosses it in the bathtub— she’ll clean it later. Then she helps him limp to bed where he gingerly dresses himself in a pair of sweatpants with his wife’s assistance then finds himself in too much pain to try putting a shirt on.

They lay together that night, Michelle reading a book— Chaos Walking Book Three: Monsters of Men— trying to keep her mind away from the place it’s tempted to travel: Peter’s inevitable death. Although, a book about war and death isn’t exactly helpful. Especially not as she reads the sorrows of a “Spackle.”

“I should not be alone…. My one in particular should be here with me…. But my one in particular is not here. Because my one in particular was killed…. brought down by a heavy blade. I way dragged away…. Hated them for not letting me die there and then, when my grief was not quite enough to kill me on its own…”

“Peter, what happens if you die young?” Michelle asks suddenly, snapping the book shut.

Peter looks up from his own book and looks at the one in her hands, “you just lost your page,” he says.

“Please answer the question,” she begs, her voice now wavering.

Peter draws in a deep breath, his gaze trailing away from her as he speaks slowly, “I guess… I guess I’ll be grateful for the years I did have.”

“I mean what happens to me?” She almost demands it, but the distress in her voice is clear and forces Peter to meet her gaze again.

He’s quiet for a few beats, listening to the anxious rhythm of Michelle’s heart and her uneven, nervous breaths. Michelle watches him, hiding her impatience as she’s eager for a response.

“I think…” he finally says, “I think that we shouldn’t think about that. Maybe just… focus on the present and take things one step at a time.”

Michelle chokes back a sob and snaps, “but what am I going to do?”

“I don’t know!” Peter cries exasperatedly, “I know that’s not the answer you want, but I have no fucking idea, and y’know what? That scares me, ‘cause I hate the idea of you being alone!” He pauses and heaves a sigh and sinks into his pillows, “I’m sorry, Em,” his voice is softer now, “I really don’t know…. And I really don’t want to think about it.”

Michelle chews on the inside of her cheek silently, wiping away a tear before it can fall. Peter lets out a shaky breath and looks away, unable to meet her broken gaze.

Michelle isn’t sure how long they’re quiet for, but she slowly feels the knots in her stomach unwind and her clenched heart begins to relax as she gazes at her husband. Her shoulders go from tense to slouched as she takes in his big brown eyes and the freckles that litter his cheeks and his chestnut curls that fall over his forehead.

He’s here, she thinks, he’s here now, let’s just focus on that.

She leans forward and kisses his cheek lightly, “we’ll get old if we’re lucky,” she says simply, “for now, we can do what you said: take things one step at a time.”

Peter looks at her and smiles warmly, “I like that plan.”

He holds the back of her neck in the palm of his hand and draws her into a deep, loving kiss. She sinks into his touch, cupping his face with her hand and gently stroking his cheek with her thumb.

“I love you, Em,” Peter mutters to her as he ousts himself from the kiss.

“I know,” she replies, curling up against his side and resting her head on his chest, “I love you too.”

[bubblyani]

‘Just For Show’

(Ronnie Kray x Reader)

A Ronnie Kray One Shot

Movie: Legend (2015)

Word Count: 6253

Rating: Mature

Requested by: @97freaknik

Summary: Upon his brother’s persuasion, Ronnie Kray dates, and marries a ‘nice’ girl, in order to cover up unsavory rumors about his sexuality. All just for show. Until feelings come knocking.

Author’s Note: Loved this story idea so much I couldn’t resist. Thank you for this. Hopefully everyone will love this! Enjoy y’all!

Light or Dark?

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you were at a sheer dilemma as you held on to two lipstick shades, comprising of light pink and dark red. Whatever color that would be painted on your lips tonight, must indeed leave an impression, deemed 'perfect and memorable’.

“You think he is taking the mick?”

A concerned voice inquired. With your eyes still in the mirror, the inquiry urged you to recall the sole reason you had difficulty deciding a simple lipstick shade in the first place.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(A few days ago)

Regardless of the years of baking experience you had under your belt, the simplest task of carrying a cake dressed with heavy icing on a cake stand, yet proved to be your most challenging task, ever. Finally placing the stand in the countertop display, you sighed silently with relief. As you gazed at the delicious treat, along with the others next to it, you could not wait to see the lineup of customers ,eager to satisfy their sweet tooth.

“Psst! He’s here!”

You turned upon the whispers of Ethan, your cousin, who stood next to you. Being the same age as you, Ethan had been working in your family’s Bakery for years, receiving the required training until he would be ready to start his very own elsewhere.

With your eyebrows raised, you shot him a glance.

“Who’s here?”

You whispered back, quickly standing straight. He motioned his head towards the door that opened with the ring of the bell, finally revealing a figure.

A figure responsible for your heart to skip a beat every single time : Ronald Kray.

You caught your breath, attempting to suppress a smile. Your cousin sniggered in response. “What?” You hissed under your breath, giving a nudge. “How can I not? When you’re all lovestruck!” He replied, in mid-snigger. “Well, Stop it!” “Shhh!” Ethan's shushing finally made you look back front, all to see Ron walk towards the counter. You involuntarily dusted your hands off the apron. It was something you could not help but do, every time he walked in, to be exact. “Morning, Ron...”

You greeted, offering a soft smile to the well dressed man. Looking around, he merely replied with a low grunt of acknowledgment. Silence afterwards was not of any surprise. And with no further question, you quickly found yourself packing the usual order for him. Only to realize he had come alone today. What could be the reason?

The famous Kray Twins always preferred to fulfill their sweet cravings from your Bakery. And their preference had tempted the rest of the Firm to be fanatics as well. Though he was the silent one between the two, Ron certainly succeeded in capturing your attention with the least of intentions.

And with the fullest of intentions, you found yourself falling for him, deeply. In secret, of course.

Smiling, you placed the neatly wrapped treat on the counter before him.

“Lemon Drizzle Cake...just the way you like it” You said, certain those will be only words you will need to spare for him that day. “Hmm...” Ron grunted, his gloved hand grabbing it slowly. And just as always, you expected him to turn.You expected to indulge the view of his broad back as he slowly walked away. As always, you expected to be grateful for even seeing him again for a mere few seconds.

Except, he defied all your expectations.

"Y/N?" “Y-yes?” You stuttered, surprised by the timbre of his deep voice when he uttered your name. You watched him take a deep breath, his eyes still on the cake.

“Would you like to…" he began, looking at you, "....go out with me?"

You swore no trace of breath was left in your body.

That query seemed completely ludicrous, exiting the lips of someone such as Ron Kray. Yet for you, it was heavenly music to your ears.  

And when heavenly music played, who would not want to sing with joy?

“Yes…” You replied mindlessly, all to your cousin's surprise.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

(Present)

“Oi!” The snap of Ethan’s fingers forced you to return to the present. “Where were you off to?” He asked, with raised eyebrows. With the lipstick pressed against your lips, you smirked. “I’m sorry…” you replied, “….you were saying?” “I was saying…” Giving you a quizzical look, Ethan continued, “Do you think he was taking the mick?” Concern still evident in his tone.

After the entire recollection, all you could do was smile to yourself. And given the dark red shade that ended up on your lips, your heart seemed to have already decided.

“Honestly, I don’t know…” you said, “Only one way to find out, hmm?”

‘Cool and unaffected’ may have been your exterior. But only you were the witness to your excited self who jumped up and down on the inside.

A man you adored finally wanted to take you out.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The last long note of the jazz trumpeter was responsible for the storm of applause that emerged in the club, and you certainly were a willing contributor. Though your hands had turned red from the the chaos of the claps, the smile on your face did not seem to fade away. Offering a standing ovation to the musicians on stage, your response seemed to attract the attention of the other customers as well.

“Jazz tickles your fancy, innit?” 
 Ron Kray asked, causing you to sit down shyly. “I admit, it does” smiling, you replied with honesty. “What about boxing?” He continued, “Do you like boxing?”

What was this? A questionnaire, a survey? Was he ticking off certain invisible criteria that you had not laid eyes on? Regardless, you found it all so amusing. Chuckling, you crossed your leg over the other.

“Thanks to me Dad, I do…” You said, straightening your back, “Although he won’t let me attend any games…” you added, looking around with wonder. Esmeralda’s Barn was as amazing as you had imagined it to be, and more. Your eyes did not fail to sparkle from the moment you set foot in this venue, for all that existed, really seemed to posses a touch of glitter.

“This is a really nice club…” You said, looking over to Ron with a smile. With no words in reply, he raised his glass of champagne to you. Inviting you to raise yours in turn. Though conversation was not of the expected frequency, you were enjoying the night with him.

“Well...Hello Hello! What have we here?”

Reggie Kray was full of smiles and cheers, making his way over to your table with a few from the Firm. You were certainly surprised to see how all of them were quite joyous to find you there with Ron. As the chairs were dragged with screeches, a mini party was suddenly held at the comfort of your own table.  

Time flew by gloriously. In the midst of sipping champagne, you eagerly listened to stories told by the Krays, and even some others from the Firm. Stories, that were mostly unfiltered. Nevertheless, they all caused you to laugh so wholeheartedly, even the sides of your stomach began to ache. The jazz music, the stories, the company, all the bare necessities to fill you with happiness. Seeing Ron smile with his mates was definitely a highlight of the evening. If only you could have been responsible for a feat as amazing as that was. If only.

When the Firm finally left the two of you alone, you were in the midst of laughter, hitting the table hard with your eyes closed, upon remembering the dirty joke Reggie uttered a few seconds beforehand.

“Oh!…” you breathed, recovering from the laughter, “I am having such a blast” you said with all honesty, waving to the others before turning to Ron, “Thank you…” you told him, presenting the most genuine smile you could ever portray, as you calmed down to watch the performance on stage.

It was certainly an evening you hoped to remember. Granted, you would have preferred more intimacy with the man sitting next to you. But you did not wish to complain. Not about Ronnie Kray. Being at his presence was a gift itself. The sound of the empty glass landing on the table firmly made you look back at the Kray Twin.Why would he gulp down such a fine brand of champagne in one setting?

“Y/N…” “Yes?” You replied, as you indulged in your own champagne.


“Will you marry me?”

Spitting out the alcohol in a flash, you looked at him with wide eyes, and a dropped jaw.

“W-WHAT?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With the Kray Twins claiming the title of Royalty in East End, a scandalous story about them hitting the papers was certainly a stain that was hard to wash off.

Ever since the story of the sex party scandal came to light, featuring popular figures such as Lord Boothby, the curiousity about the sexuality of Ronald Kray had garnered more attention. Along with that, Business with the current clients, found itself to be difficult to be built up, or even being carried on. Awfully desperate to wipe this slate clean, Reggie Kray and Leslie Payne had but one solution.

“Are you out of your FUCKING minds?” 
Ron Kray’s reaction was simply justified, especially when their solution, was for him to marry a ‘nice girl’. Marry? And to a woman?  Rubbing his chin, Reggie looked at his brother.

“Just think about it, Ron…” he said, his hands resting on his hips, “Or else people are going to talk…” “Business ain’t going to be good for us, Ronnie” Leslie added coolly, blowing smoke as he held on to his his cigarette. Looking around at the only two occupants in the pub, E.Pellicci on a Tuesday afternoon, Ron pointed his fork at his twin. “Reg, you’re my brother…” he muttered deeply, “You know better that I never hide my preference…”

“And as your brother…” Reggie said, sitting in front of him, “I know better to have your back before things go fuckin south…yeah?” He added, “Come on! It’s not like you have to fall in love with her…” he smiled, patting Ron’s shoulder “It’s all just for show…”

Looking at one another, a silent conversation had suddenly begun, a silent negotiation more like. Or perhaps was it an eager salesman trying to make a sell to the difficult customer?

Finally, Ron sighed, grunting in acknowledgement. He seemed to have given up. Feeling victorious, Reggie and Leslie nodded at each other with relief.

“You have someone in mind?” Ron asked casually,  resuming to pick at his Eggs Benedict with his fork.

Looking at his brother proudly, Reggie smirked. For he was eager to share his grand plan.

The grand plan that involved their favorite Bakery.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Relieved you were to have saved your best nightgown for a night such as this one. Your wedding night, to be exact.

Tracing the material with your fingers, you permitted the silk to caress your skin whilst you brushed your loose hair. With Ron still in the bathroom, you had some time to reflect on the whirlwind adventure you had experienced. All in just one week.

Just when the idea of a date seemed ludicrous, a proposal from Ronald Kray was simply unimaginable. He made some fair points, you would admit. How he 'loved you’, and how he ‘wanted no one else but you’. Truthfully, his tone may have seemed monotonous, it could have easily been a tad bit insincere, yet you were certain that was only because he was not like everyone else. For a different aura existed within him, and that being one of the primary reasons you adored him. Some attractions in life could never be explained.

Besides, with you hopelessly in love with him for almost a year, there was no trace of hesitation when you accepted it. Your family did not seem to mind whatsoever. With the Krays and the Firm showing their loyalty to the Bakery, your parents never felt safer and more proud. No wonder you had no difficulty loving Ron Kray all this time. For everything seemed to make complete sense. He may not be the most expressive man on the planet. But that did not bother you, not even the slightest. Confident you were to pull out something new from him. You had never been this certain about anything in your entire life.

The wedding, it was simple yet lovely, including all that you ever hoped for. There was music, there was laughter and there was company at its warmest. The Firm may intimidate the others, but in your eyes, they were the epitome of sincere friendship and family.Just married for a few hours and yet all of them felt like brethren to you.

You jumped out of your thoughts the moment Ron cleared his throat. Coming out of the bathroom, he managed to look robust even in his pajamas.

“Sorry about that…” He said, embarrassingly. Being inside the bathroom for quite a long time, the apology did not seem shocking. You shook your head slowly.

“It’s fine…” You said, as you watched him sit on the edge of the bed. Slowly walking over, you joined right next to him. You felt giddy, empathizing with a teenager hoping to catch the attention of her senior classmate.

Silence took center stage for brief moment. Almost to the point it grew awkward. You felt your breath quicken in silence as your heartbeat increased along with it. You found it difficult to gain control. But fortunately, Ron began to speak.

“Many people think Reggie is the more beautiful one …” He said, “Do you agree?” He asked, turning his head to face you. With his glasses still on and his hair slicked back, Ron certainly looked too formal for bed. With your eyes on him, you took a deep breath, finally calming down thanks to his inquiry. A proper distraction.

“Well, I won’t lie…” you began,  “Reggie is beautiful…” Ron sighed, “Eh…” as if this was no surprise. “And so are you…” You added, with an extra dose of affection. Which made him look back at you with shock.

“Yeah?You think so?” His query was sincere, to which you nodded, chuckling. 
“Of course…” you giggled, “Why else would I say yes to you?”

Your heart sang when you heard him chuckle in return. It was very rare, his chuckle. A chuckle only heard when the others in the Firm jested. Only then did he chuckle. Until now.

Feeling the softness of the bed on your fingers, you were even more convinced he was not really ready for bed. You wanted him to loosen up. Inching closer, the distance between the two of you finally closed. Suddenly, you felt so brave. Brave enough to make an impression on the feared Kray Twin: your now-husband.

Ron did not flinch when you took his glasses off, for you were as delicate as you could be with it. Neither did he move an inch when your fingers began to affectionately stroke his head, stealthily digging into his hair, pulling his locks out of the constraints of his hair wax. Tonight and for always, he was to be yours, and you were overjoyed.

With his hair falling on the sides of his face, it came to your realization as to how handsome he really was. He was quite underrated, to be honest.

Your eyes quickly fell on to his lips. Ever since you first laid eyes on him, those lips had driven you mad. Lips that could enslave a thousand if needed. You knew for certain of their softness, you had an inkling they were luscious. All you needed was proof. 

Frustration came over you when he kissed you at the ceremony for the first time. Being in the presence of many, the kiss was short. Too short, to be exact. You wondered if he was just shy. Many a doubts came to mind, yet you were too quick to dismiss them. Why would he marry you if not for love? You had no wealth nor mafia connections. So indeed for love, yes?
 Staring at his lips for too long, you felt your heartbeat increase with urgency. You were hungry. With your hands still in his hair, you leaned forward for a taste. Until you felt him grab you by the shoulders, pushing you into bed. With grunts and growls that exited his lips, you realized his preference for lovemaking: Rough.

You gasped when he surprised by climbing on top of you. Pulling down his pajama bottoms in a flash, he rubbed his manhood with intensity whilst spreading your legs wide open, causing your eyes to widen as well. No, not yet! Not this ways!
 “Ronnie Wait!" you cried, " I’m still a virg-”

Your own words were cut off by a loud cry of surprise, feeling your inner lining break with a sharp pain as his shaft finally entered you, for the first time, ever. With your eyes closed, you tried to handle the pain, that disappeared soon afterwards.
 “You’re a…?” Ron croaked, finally realizing the depth of his actions. You nodded slowly. To your surprise, you found the tone of his eyes change. It grew into something that could even be considered sad. Or regretful. That was when you felt your heart melt. What you thought you would get cross, you could not, you did not. All because you loved him too much. 
 Cupping his face so delicately, there were so much you longed to say. Certainly, this was not the best way for a virgin to experience sex. Yet, this was life. But when you cupped his face, you had other agendas at heart. What could those lips offer you?

With his attention tightly held on to, you moved close, finally kissing him the proper way.

You cherished it, every second. At first, it was a peck, innocent and sweet. With the longer peck, followed increased affection that was motivated with every touch. Being braver, you proceeded to lick his lips, only to place your lips over his once again, kissing  him with added pressure, longer than before. Only then, only then did you feel his own lips kiss you back. With his equal reciprocation, it was possibly the best kiss you ever experienced. Moving your hands over to his head, you encouraged the kiss to deepen, moaning into his mouth, as he began to rhythmically move inside you once again.

No clothes were in need of disrobing. Not tonight. For the priority was met. Vulnerabilities were disrobed instead of clothes. Intimacy was displayed instead of the bare frame. You moved along with him, and he was wonderful, fitting so well within you. Pleasure was felt to the core. And to your relief, the kisses did not end so soon. Stealing long, expressive kisses here and there, Ron Kray made love to you until finally the release was met. Groaning, he fell on to the bed right to you.

As you brought your legs together, you felt a sense of wetness in between your thighs. With a swift stroke, your eyes widened by the sight of blood on your fingers.

“Where are you off to?” Ron asked, as you slowly attempted to get off the bed. “Uh….” you struggled, looking at him shyly, ‘The blood…” you said, motioning to the bottom part of the bedsheet stained with red,  “Need to clean ‘em off…I-Ah!” But you were far from it, especially when you were pulled back into it by Ron. Ending up in his arms that wrapped your frame, you rested on you elbows, looking at him confusingly, only to be met with his long kiss. 
 “No rush…” He grunted coolly, bringing you to his chest, “No rush…”

Pleased by your husband's wishes, you complied, savoring the softness and warmth he had surprisingly brought to you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“So?..Did you get it over with?”

Reggie asked, the very next morning when Ron made his visit to the E.Pellicci. Sipping on his tea, Ron merely grunted in acknowledgement. Little did he know of the growing curiosity of Reggie Kray and Leslie Payne in regards to the juicy details of the wedding night. Given his usual displeasure in women, they were indeed quite curious about this particular woman. 
 “And...How was it?” Reggie was persistent. Looking up from his cup, Ron found himself staring into the distance. “You know what?" he said, " It wasn’t half bad…She…" he paused, bringing his hand up , "....she is an interesting one” 
 “Is she now?” Leslie asked, chuckling with amusement, "So will there be more that interesting one then?" "Fuck off!" Albert Donoghue’s sudden appearance in the pub caused the trio to quieten with concern. “Reg, Ron…Heads up!” he muttered, as the pub doors swung open dramatically. Along with its dramatic swing, came in a group of men, wielding nothing but iron pipes and shameless grins.

“Congratulations Ron Kray!” One of them called out loudly, “The Richardsons would like to give a little…wedding present…”

Gang wars. What’s there to be said?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sighed, sitting comfortably on the sofa, as you continued to apply the medicine over Ronnie’s hand. Just a small brawl, Reggie said, when he brought his brother back home to you. One day after the wedding and you already were forced to face this. Helping you realize all that you were to anticipate in the near future. All as the wife of Ronnie Kray. 
 “So…will this be something usual?” You asked, making him throw you a look, “Just for future reference…” you added defensively. Ronnie looked back at his bruised knuckles.

“Every job has its challenges, yeah?” He began, as you nodded, “I suppose these are mine…” he added,  “…and more…” You chuckled. It was clear when you married him, you married everything about him. So who were you to judge? “Well said, Mr. Kray” you smirked as you were quite impressed,  “There! All done…” you said, staring at his cleaned bruises as you slowly got up, “I’ll just… make you some tea and-Ah!”

He was always the surprise, pulling you back to him. Ever so comfortably, you ended up on his lap. Wrapping one arm around your waist, he brought you closer, making you blush.

“Would you mind just…staying like this?” Ron asked, his tone filled with shyness, all the while looking at you. His words made your eyes warm. And also your heart.

“I would love to…” you said, blushing harder when he took your chin to kiss you. Long and quiet, the kiss was proficient enough to convey enough to your heart and soul.
 “Y/N?” “Hmm?” you hummed, still drunk by his kiss. Pressing his lips together, he inhaled softly. “Do you like…poetry?” Ron asked all the sudden. You could reply with nothing but your bright smile.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Oh darling, these are just wonderful…” Violet Kray, mother of the Kray Twins cried with joy as she accepted the basket, filled with warm Loaves of French Baguettes. All from her daughter-in-law. 
“Straight from the oven, Mrs. Kray” She said with pride. Violet scoffed.

“Don’t you dare be so formal, love. Call me Mum…” The matriarch replied, bringing the young woman to an embrace.

“I will, Mum”

All this Ronnie Kray watched, with a surprising sense of satisfaction. The fact that his wife won his mother's heart was definitely a good sign. And as days and weeks went by, Ronnie Kray was coming to terms with what an amazing woman he was forced to marry into.With the fascination of a woman and a man combined, her interests were beyond incredible, fit to make conversation with simply anyone in the Firm. He certainly had judged her too fast before. Just because she worked at a baker, did not mean she was not interesting or amazing.

Apart from conversation, she was sexually surprising as well. Never did Ronnie imagine to feel a sense of pleasure that was never experienced before.  And besides the pleasure, he felt love. Although he had more preference to men earlier, the aura she had given out in the bedroom was what he could not get enough of. Sex with her was just as exciting as sex with a man. With a colorful imagination, she made sure every time to be as unforgettable as the one before.

Watching a somber or serious news telecast would never be boring with her sitting on his lap. Especially when his erect and hungry shaft was buried inside her as she moved in steady rhythm. Holding his head securely, with his face pressed against her neck, he watched her moan, all the while she made her way up and down on his shaft. Impressed he was with her eagerness to be so open minded, even urging his hands to roam around her frame as she unbuttoned her dress from the front. All so that his hands could touch, pull, pinch, tickle and caress every inch of her skin as he pleased while she moved.

“Never knew you had this side to you…” Ron breathed, to which she looked at him. 
“Well, you never asked, Mr. Kray…” she purred, crying out in pleasure soon after, as he tugged her erect nipples.

And before knew it, Ronnie Kray had more appreciation for the female anatomy than ever before. Ever since then, he would spontaneously show off his appreciation with his lips more than ever. The simple favor of undoing an apron may have gone further, merely triggered by the sight of her bare neck, forcing him to unzip her dress, only to let it fall to the floor. All the while he held her, as he took his sweet time, kissing, licking and sucking every inch of her skin that his eyes could trace. And with her gratuitous moans and cries filling his ears, he had never felt so proud.

Ever since the wedding, Ron visited the E.Pellicci less. But whenever he did, the pub was filled with cheer.

"We hardly see you anymore, Ron!" “Probably too busy getting hands on with his new Missus!” “Or maybe even busy training her to stay out of his way…” “No! No! He really seems to like her…” "Bugger off, you cheeky fuckers!" Ron would say, with a cigar between his teeth, laughing alongside the mates. All the mates who laughed. All except Teddy Smith.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You watched the Firm gather around Teddy, all with champagne glasses in hand. "Happy Birthday, Mad Teddy!" Ronnie cried out on behalf of all at Esmeralda's Barn, "May you be as mad as ever!" "To TEDDY!" All cried with cheers.

Teddy Smith flashed his brightest smile. You clapped your hardest, watching the Firm sing their songs of camaraderie. This really should have been just the boys. Why on earth would Ron bring you here?

"I would just ruin the whole mood" you remembered telling him, whilst putting on the earrings a few hours ago. "Fucking nonsense!" he said, as you turned to fix his tie, "The Firm loves you..." he stated as you finished, “Besides… who doesn't want to show you off?" he teased, forcing you to playfully smack his shoulder.

Smiling to oneself at that recollection, you headed towards the restroom while your ears were enlightened by jazz musicians who played on stage. Too much champagne had you running off to the loo even before 11pm. But before you could enter the ladies room, you felt someone stand behind you. 
 “Enjoying the party?”

Teddy asked, making you turn to him. You smiled widely. “Oh yes, very much…" you said, "Happy Birthday again Teddy!” you clasped your hands together with a sincere wish. He was the adorable brother you never had.

Except he merely scoffed with disgust. 
 “You think you have all of us figured out, aye?” He asked, displeasure very evident in his tone. Confused, your eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?” you asked. Taking one more step towards you, he folded his arms.

“Do you really think the great Ronnie Kray…married you, for love?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With your pulse running high, you quickly turned on the sink tap in the ladies washroom, letting the water run as you moistened the mouth with some. You hoped it would calm you down, but it did not.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you watched yourself take deep breaths. Each breath in a dire need to to help you take in the information you just received from Teddy.

Also known as the truth.

He disclosed it all, Reggie’s desperate plan to save his brother's reputation, and how that plan mainly included marrying you. Rumors of his bisexuality you were familiar with, yet you never expected that to be true. Not after everything you had experienced with him. And you did not expect to hear all of that from Teddy, the man who claimed to be Ronnie's former lover. 
 “You’re nothing but a bloody cover up…” You remembered him saying. Chuckling with pride, he continued to taunt you: “How do you know where on earth he fuckin ends up, after you fall asleep?” he continued, “Face it, love! You’re nothing but a public please-”

“Stop it!” You cried out, covering your ears with an innocent plea, storming into the Ladies Room. Bringing you back to where you were now.

A fool, You felt like a fool. How could you have been so blind? You should have not come here. You should not have said yes to anything Ronnie had asked of you. More importantly, You should not have loved him in the first place.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He always had her in his sights, no matter how busy he was with the Firm in the party. With her been in the loo for too long, Ronnie was getting impatient.

The moment she was within his sights he felt relief, except that was robbed from him once again when he watched her leave the club with a possible look of dejection.

It worried him, infuriatingly. He followed her, tried to at least through the crowds in the club. And Teddy Smith was the biggest hurdle of all, bumping into him as he came from the same corner as she did. 
 “Why is she leaving?” Ron asked him. Teddy however, was silent, enraging Ronnie even further, “Answer my fuckin question!”,he said, pulling him by the collar. Teddy however looked far from upset.

“Cause she doesn’t belong here…" he said, "...she never belonged with us, Ronnie…” he added with dedication, “Forget about her…” his breath felt seductive, running his hands over his clothed chest. Ron was immune to it surprisingly. He was far from aroused.

“You fucking bastard!” He yelled, pushing him away,  “I’ll get you next time!” pointing at him, “Wankers!” Ronnie cried out, leaving the club. Passing him by, Reggie appeared quite confused. 
“Ron…what’s going on?” He called out to his brother, who clearly ignored him. Reggie turned to Teddy, finally sensing the reason for this contradiction. Shaking his head, Reggie Kray sighed. “Teddy, …the fuck did you do, mate?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Come on! Come on!” You prayed, turning the dial of the numbers frantically as you stood inside the telephone box. You hoped someone would answer your call, you hoped someone would come to pick you up. But your hopes were in no luck for consideration. “FUCK!” You yelled at the phone frustratingly. Clearly, it was not like you to swear like this in the open. Has his habits rubbed off on you?

“Y/N!”

And just like that, you turned to find Ronnie standing outside the booth. “No!" you shook your head immediately, "Go! Leave me alone!” you cried out, putting the phone down. “Y/N…” Ronnie began, “What the bloody hell you doing?” “Avoiding you, that’s what!” You snapped. 
“Let me in…” he demanded. “No!
“Let…me…in” his demands were repeated, through gritted teeth, leaving pause with each word, which truthfully scared you. Left with no choice, you opened the door, allowing him to enter, and lock it right behind him.

With such little space between the two, you felt uncomfortable for the very first time. If it were a mere few days ago, you would be finding any excuse to be wrapped around him, just to listen to him grunt, to listen to him moan, to listen to him chuckle.

“What did Teddy tell you?” He inquired in seriousness. Averting your gaze, you kept silent for a few seconds before you finally answered: “The truth…the whole truth and nothing but the truth…”
“Never knew you could be snarky”
“Well, you never asked…”

Your banter with him, it was such a lovely surprise. Which made this even more disappointing.

“I’m not even angry…I’m..." you paused, "I'm hurt” you said, feeling your nose grow sour, “I may not be smart as any of you. But I'm no fool…” you added, involuntarily sniffing, “I’m not foolish enough to stand by when someone plays with my emotions” with your hands on your hips, you tried to gather your self, “I don’t…I don’t think anyone has ever loved you the way I did" you said, making Ronnie open his mouth slowly, “It was silent, but it was strong. For many years. I never cared that you were a gangster, I never even cared of the other foul things they said about you.” you continued, “But if you were to tell me, this was all just for show and nothing…was ever…real-I…I don’t understand” you struggled, taking a step closer to him, his cigar smell strong in his coat, “Was none of it real?” you asked, “Our conversations? Our kisses?" you paused, taking a deep breath, "... Every single time we made love…Were they not real?”

A single tear trickled down your cheek by the end of that question. And with your question, you expected a well deserved answer. You think you earned it after all this. Yet, Ronnie did not answer. Staring at you, he merely stood there pondering. Disappointed, you did not know how to cope with this. Sighing symbolized your surrender, and you turned to leave with a heavy heart.

Until he grabbed your wrist with a grip hard as iron. 
 “If you know me well.…" he began slowly, "You would know very well that I am a difficult man to deal with” he said softly, yet he remained feared. You gulped, not knowing what to anticipate. However, his grip loosened soon after. Instead he held your hand gently.  
 “You're right..." He began, “It was just for show, yes. In the beginning. At the bakery, at the jazz club…” he said, making your stomach clench, “I had to, it was the plan…”

So that was it, It was the truth. You were being strung along all just for show. Your feelings felt used, like a wet cloth being wrung so tight there was no water left.

“But not anymore…” Your eyes widened upon hearing his words. Looking up, he looked at you. His hold on you tightened, yet not with pain. But warmth instead.

“I…” he paused, “...I think I love you" he gulped, "And I don’t want to lose you…ever” he said, tracing his tone to comprise of softness and vulnerability. A thick liquid of warmth began to pour down on to your heart. You wanted to accept it wholeheartedly, except it was blocked by a lid of doubt. 
 “What about Teddy?" you asked coldly. 
“Oh! He’s a jealous faggot! But he means well…” Ronnie said in a matter of fact tone, forcing you laugh out loud. He certainly could make you smile always. That Ronnie Kray. 
 “He loves you, I can tell…” you said, feeling envious to the core. 
“Well, it’s a pity now…” Ronnie said, driving that jealousy away. Yet you were still not convinced. "How can I believe you?" You inquired, still realizing your hand was being held, "How can I sure absolutely sur-“

Your words were cut off when Ronnie Kray pulled you to him for a passionate kiss. And your lips did not hesitate to hold back at all. Though your mind was the provider of that lid of doubt, your heart was the one pouring that warmth, and it seemed like it was stronger. Lips were happy to be reunited once again, opening to each other so that the tongues could play their usual dance. You moaned involuntarily as you felt his hands grab you by the buttocks, pulling them up whilst you both kissed. But your mind was not impressed, not yet. This was just too easy.
 "Ronnie..." you said, pulling away, “..that's just cheap-”

"This! This is what I want...for the rest of my fucking life..." he snarled, but with meaning, "I may get arrested, I may even go to fucking jail..” he said, "But this…” he paused, “I don't want this to change. Ever" Positively moved, you chuckled. “Well said, Mr. Kray”

You admitted, lips not holding back when Ronnie fully kissed you once again. Never did you expect a man like Ronnie Kray to be this way.

As he kept kissing you with all his heart, you wondered. Did you really pull something out of him to change? Would a better version of himself be a possibility because of you? For the moment, none of that really mattered.

For all you needed to remember was your love for him. And from tonight onwards, his love for you.

——————————————————

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BTS at Golden Disc Awards 2021

by Admin 1

On the 9th and 10th of January 2021 BTS attended the Golden Disc Awards, and performed on the second day as well. Being there they won the Digital Bonsang for Dynamite on the 9th and the Bonsang, as well as the Album Daesang for Map of the Soul : 7, on the 10th. Amazing achievements which I sincerely congratulate them on.

When it comes to the performance, it was, most certainly, another amazing collection of stages bringing something new once more, even if they presented songs we’ve already seen at previous award shows this season. The opening came in form of Black Swan, though they didn’t sing any of it. It was more an intro showcasing the entrance of the members and highlighted Yoongi’s return to the stage, at least partially. 

The stage featured big metal winds, low lighting, and the members clad in black and white clothing including leather elbow length gloves for Namjoon and Yoongi, and pretty chockers for Taehyung and Jimin. The highlight though was Jungkook’s hair which isn’t dark anymore, but instead has been bleached and dyed a pretty blond. Personally I think it suits him pretty well. 

More below the cut since this is shaping up to be pretty long:

Next up was ON, which was powerful and fierce, though still missing Yoongi, which is all too understandable. Even though he can stand on stage again and hold his mic in his left hand (his surgery was on the left shoulder), it will still be a while until he’ll be able to dance with the members. ON has certainly grown a lot on me and I enjoy their performances of it immensely, and it was much the case this time as well.

The transition from ON to Life Goes On came in form of the stage being made to look like their individual rooms from BE which appeared on the digital walls around them. Their clothes were mostly comfy, though Jimin’s resembled their outfits from all the way back during I NEED U/RUN era. The transition/VCR like moment ended with the instrumental to We Are Bulletproof : The Eternal and the stage looking much the way the MV did with the whale swimming around them in an ocean of shades of purple, blue and pink.

For Life Goes On they had miniature versions of some of their most iconic MV sets on pedestals. It was a really cute idea and I enjoyed the execution a lot. The members seemed relaxed and enjoying themselves, Jimin and Taehyung even having their little moment of looking at each other twice, these moments certainly having become something I always kind of look forward to when it comes to LGO stages. 

Another tiny Jimin and Taehyung detail was Jimin sending a brief, barely noticeable (by the viewer) finger heart which I hadn’t even noticed until my fourth rewatch. It definitely fits with all these other small gestures we’ve seen from these two in recent months, like the finger hearts and kissy faces during their Lotte Family Concert performance of Boy with Luv or hugging each other on day 1 and doing a fun handshake and dance on day 2 during Dionysus at the MOTS ON:E concert visible only on one of the side cameras, not the main one.

The grand finale was the Slow Jam remix of Dynamite which worked perfectly with the chill out lounge/bar atmosphere created on stage fitting with the Great Gatsby theme. The members wore mostly suits in white, blue in Namjoon’s case, and a bright yellow when it comes to Taehyung, as well as Hoseok who had a white button down which Tae did not. While a normal person would look ridiculous in it, Taehyung looked absolutely stunning and made it more than work. After so many energetic performances of Dynamite since its release, seeing such a calm version was really nice and refreshing, showing how versatile BTS and their music are, how they can captivate an audience with fast songs made for big choreographies and stage productions, but also these slow, more chill types of tracks. A marvelous idea, truly.

There was also an encore stage where they sang ON again but this time along with Yoongi on stage which had some hilarious moments, especially Namjoon and Seokjin being silly waving their arms around while kneeling opposite each other on stage during Jungkook’s bridge. Cute.

Afterward the members were at something like a red carpet after interview where they took pictures with their awards (Jungkook and Taehyung even making their Bonsang and Daesang awards kiss much the way film director Bong Joon Ho made his two Oscars kiss last year) and were asked to do a relay of saying something to each other. 

All translations of their words are taken from Vernal_Bom on twitter.

J-hope to Jimin 

“I didn’t feel lonely in 2020 thanks to Jimin. Thank you for making me laugh. Give me happiness and laugh in 2021 as well.”  Jimin (turning to Namjoon): “It seems he can never live without me” 

Honestly the bond between Jimin and Hoseok is so cute and wonderful and you can see, and hear in their words, how important they are to each other, and how grateful Hobi is. We know the members were having a really hard time in 2020 so it doesn’t surprise me that Hobi would highlight the other members, or in this case Jimin, as one of the main reasons why he made it through it. After all we also know that those two made a song together which unfortunately didn’t make it onto BE. Hopefully we might get it one day at least as SoundCloud release, or perhaps on the next album instead.

Jimin to RM 

It was you who made us pull ourselves together to go through 2020. I am always grateful, and it’d be nice if you share you height a little with me in 2021, be healthy and happy. RM: Okay thank you

I love how Jimin used this (public) opportunity to tell/remind Namjoon of how important he was for them especially in 2020, as leader and surely also as friend, yet still also made a little joke to still keep the atmosphere light. After he was done speaking Jimin also hugged Namjoon, which showed once more how tiny he is in comparison.

RM to JK 

It’s finally today, Jungkook-si, in 10 years! You are Golden Maknae! The day that you will prove your nickname! You are proving it right now with your hair color, but in 2021, I hope the year will be filled with gold, like your nickname. Stay healthy. Let’s ‘Jje-kkit-up’ together this year too! (check it up.. the usual Namjoon saying lol)

It’s quite something to think about and realize, isn’t it, this year 10 years pass since Jungkook became a BigHit trainee and moved into their first dorm with Namjoon, Hoseok, Yoongi and Seokjin. I’m curious if Bangtan, as well as BigHit, have some kind of plan for JK specifically for this year that Namjoon chose to highlight his Golden Maknae nickname in such a way, or if it was more of a reminder to JK, that he’s so worthy despite how he doubts himself, and despite how he himself said he’s been going through tough times in 2020.

JK to V 

V hyung, when we were trainees we were getting along so well, (V: We are not now???) No!!! i didn’t mean it. You are becoming so much of an stand-up (reliable, I assume in this context) guy. Thank you for doing all the schedules with us.  jhope: who’s hyung here?

The bond these two share might just be one of the biggest mysteries and causes for conflicts and fights within the fandom, or particular parts of it. After their conversation In The SOOP, I’d like to believe they’ve figured out whatever issue might've arisen between them in the past, found a way to solve and move past it slowly, and rekindled their friendship once more. Seeing at how well they’ve been getting along (on camera) these past few months, I think it might've been so. It’s curious to me though that JK chose to say this instead of something more akin to what Jimin said to Namjoon, or Hoseok to Jimin.

V to Jin 

V: (turns to Jin)  Jin: This is too close V: I listened to Abyss and that makes my heart ache too... Jin: Thank you V: hyung, your song is so good. Make more songs in 2021, let Army and us listen to your song more. Jin: Okayokay  V: and I play game with you to relieve stress.... sorry for talking in ban-mal (informal form). —(also speaking in informal way) Jin: No no it was so fun V: I love you Jin: I love you too

I absolutely adore the bond these two share and I love that Tae chose to say what he did. We know Seokjin has been going through a hard time in 2020, that he dealt with something I’d call imposter syndrome, so I’m glad we got to know even more about how Tae was there for him, something we otherwise would’ve never known. Certain people try to portray Tae as the one member that is almost estranged from his other members, who barely has anything to do with the group outside of schedules, and yet it’s moments like this--as well as Seokjin telling us in his birthday vlive that Tae organized for everyone including his non-BTS friends to send Seokjin birthday wishes in video form to show him how loved and appreciated he is--are the proof that those people are wrong. Tae is very close with his members, and he’s the ambassador of OT7 or nothing, the members his closest friends and brothers, his found and chosen family.

Jin to Suga 

Jin: Yoongi ya, do it well. Suga: Okay.... Jin: Do well on your rehab, and...uh... let’s do well going forward. Suga: Okay.. I will...

These two are so close yet due to their introverted nature their interactions such as this one are just so hilarious and adorable at the same time. Their dynamic is wonderful and this just seems like peak Yoongi-Jin behavior.

Suga to j-hope 

SG: (unable to look into hobi’s eyes) Our hobi JH: Suga! SG: You did work hard in 2020 (evading eye contact) JH: hahhahahah and? SG: Let’s not fall sick in 2021, and hwaiting...  JH: “Hwaiting hyung, and take good care of your health!”

The saga of Yoongi being unable to look Hoseok in the eye continues and it’s just as precious as ever. They stood so close, and while Yoongi wasn’t able to look into Hoseok’s eyes, it’s funny how he was the one who initiated the whole “them standing so close together” thing. I love the difference between how Seokjin didn’t even try to make eye-contact while Hoseok playfully challenged Yoongi and tried to coax him into it anyway knowing it’ll make Yoongi laugh and smile. It’s such a Yoongi-Hoseok thing, I love it.

And with that, the award was over and now also my post. I hope you enjoyed reading it! :3

[that-was-anticlimactic]

Once many moons ago you asked for some avatar writing prompts and I’ve been thinking of it ever since. Anyway I’ve also been thinking a lot about your Tourette’s!Sokka hc and fics and I was wondering if you could write a lil bit about how Toph finds out? I know you mentioned that she’d find out after pulling him out of the hole... but I’d love to read more about it

Anyway no pressure and if i’m totally out of line please let me know

Hi!!! No no, thank you so much! You’re not out of line at all!! I could talk about this forever and this is exactly something I need to procrastinate!

for those who don’t know, they’re referring to this post and this oneshot! It’s a lots of headcanons about Sokka (atla) having Tourette’s Syndrome!

This takes place during Bitter Work (I mean... Sokka is a hole haha) and for purposes of speculation and plot convenience, we’re assuming he’s been in the whole for at least half of the day (I mean, maybe that’s canon??? He had trouble walking when they got him out and it was long enough to make Katara worry...).

I tried writing this in a different way, so if anyone has strong thoughts / feelings / opinions on how I portrayed his tics, let me know! The last thing that I want to note beforehand is that tics are... weird and you can’t plan them. Writing for them is harder than I thought because they are random. I, personally, found it easier to write his verbal tics as the same few words because you don’t think of tics, they just happen? So writing them was weird, haha!

Stuck

Word Count: 2,590

Tw: anxiety attack, tic attack (for those with TS or tics, I do write his tics in. They triggered some of mine, so proceed with caution)

----

“Rah-Rah-Rah-Rumble!”

Sokka sighed. “Maybe going to underground Earth bending tournaments was a bad idea,” the young warrior (nose wrinkle) said to himself. “I’m going to be rumbling-- rah-rah-rumble-- for ages now.”

He laughed. Then laughed again (blink, whistle). Then he shrieked in frustration.

Being stuck in this hole was miserable, and not just (whistle, nose wrinkle) miserable, it was terrifying. He couldn’t move his arms, he couldn’t move his legs, moving his fingers was possible, but he had clenched them so much that it was painful to continue, and he needed to move his arms, he needed to (whistle, whistle, whistle) tic.

The others were off training, and that could take hours. He was alone (blink, “yip yip, rumble rumble”) and they had no idea where he was, all they knew was that he was hunting.

The pain… it was hard for his brain to fathom the pain he was in. His legs (blink, whistle, blink) were numb but his arms (“Rah-Rumble”) were sore, they were aching and longing for the ability to move, to tic. It made his head (whistle, blink, blink, “yip, rumble, yip”) hurt. It was hard to breath.

“That’s-- rumble-- it,” he wheezed. “This is how I’m gonna-- rah-rah-- die. Oh, spirits, I’m gonna die!” Panic, pain, and loneliness were savages, wrecking the sanctuary and peace of his mind and body.

“AANG!”

Sokka’s voice clipped, his body feeling (“yip yip, you need to yip yip”, blink, nose wrinkle) awake once more at the sight of his friend.

The monk turned at his name, his face lighting up upon seeing the water tribesman. “Sokka!” he (nose wrinkle, whistle) cried, running to him. “Are you okay?”

He opened his mouth, prepared to make some witty or sarcastic comment, but (whistle, blink) all that came out was a stifled, relieved sob. “I-I’m-- fah-fah-fine, fine-- I just need to get out of this stupid hole,” he assured, tears of happiness welling up in his eyes.

Aang studied him for a moment (“yip yip”), then grabbed onto what he could of Sokka’s hands, trying to pull him (blink, blink, nose wrinkle, whistle) free.

Pain shot through his arms and up to his fingers. “Ow! Stop, stop! You’re-- rumble, rah-rah-- gonna pull my fingers off! And (whistle) I don’t think the r-- re-rah-rumble, rah-rah-rumble-- rest is coming!”

Aang sat down in front of him, panting. “I would try to airbend you out, but I don’t think that’ll do anything.”

(Blink, whistle) “Oh, you can Earthbend me out!” Sokka cried excitedly (blink, blink, “rumble”). “That’s what you’ve been working on, right?”

“I can’t.”

“Well, what about-- yip-- Toph? Can you get her so she can Earthbend me out?”

“I can’t do that either.”

“W-- Wah-Wah-- Why not? I’m stuck and-and I can’t move and--” Sokka broke off into an unstoppable stream of “yip-yip”’s.

Aang started, reaching his hands out, but drew them back. “Suppose you probably don’t want to be touched right now?” he said sheepishly. “I’m sorry. Toph will just get mad at me if I go back. I’m a terrible Earthbender.”

“I just-- yip yip (whistle, blink, blink, nose wrinkle)-- I just want Katara.” The words stumbled out, and for a second, he felt like that young six year old again, asking for his mom when (blink, blink, blink) he had tic spasms during stressful training sessions.

Aang’s grey eyes were filled with sorrow. “I know you need help. I need to get over myself and just face Toph but… I just don’t want to let anyone down…” he trailed off, and (nose wrinkle, whistle) suddenly Sokka wanted to be out of that hole more than anything so he could give Aang all of the love that he deserves.

“Oh! Is that a baby Sabertooth Moose Lion?” asked the monk, a smile popping up on his face as the creature jumped out from the bushes.

“Aang, Foo Foo Cuddly Poops. Foo Foo-- rumble, rah-rah-- Cuddly Poops, Aang,” Sokka introduced nonchalantly, still mentally going through various ways to encourage Aang to get help.

“Huh, that’s weird,” Aang (“yip yip!”) stated, picking Foo Foo Cuddly Poops up. “Their moms are usually really protective.”

The Spirits must have something against Sokka, and maybe once he’s out of the hole he’ll ask Aang to visit the Spirit World and figure out what it is. Almost as if it were on cue, a loud roar shook the trees surrounding them, and Sokka soon felt overcome with blinking and screaming “yip yip”.

The roar came from behind him, but he couldn't move he couldn’t move he couldn’t move he couldn’t-- Spirits, he was crying. He was blinking so hard and so consistently that he was crying. His throat felt tighter and tighter with each “yip”, but he still held onto that small sliver of hope that Toph or Katara would hear him and come help him.

“Aang, I can’t-- ca-a-an’t yip-- I can’t see! I-- you need to yip yip-- can’t see! Is that- is that-thu-thu-- the mother? What’s happ-- yip yip-- ening? I can’t-- you-you, yip yip yip-- I can’t stop-- yip yip yip yip, RUMBLE-- AANG!” His words flew out of his mouth, they were uncontrollable, a storm that had been building up for the past however long he had been in here, festering and brewing. Sokka didn’t know what he was saying, his tongue was improvising, his words were a script never written. Honestly, he would be surprised if Aang could even understand what he said through his nearly constant stream of tics.

He couldn’t see, and not just behind him. His blinking was too excessive. His eyes hurt, his vision completely blurred. He was crying, from fear, pain, blinking too much, and because he just wanted Katara. The ringing in his ears returned, and he wanted to curl up into a ball, letting his tics run their course, holding his head in his hands.

A gust of wind ruffled his already messy hair, some of the longer strands falling into his mouth, but he barely registered it. Through the ringing, he vaguely heard Aang speak to him. And suddenly Sokka sobbed even harder because Aang was twelve and he shouldn’t have to worry about Sokka having a tic attack. The first time he had one around Aang, he had terrified the kid. Poor Katara had to run back and forth between making sure Sokka was alright and not in any pain and that Aang understood what was going on.

Spirits, Aang was probably scared out of his mind right now because they were being attacked and Sokka could do nothing to help him. They were in danger and it felt like he was cowering while the Avatar worked to save them both.

Moment after moment, he continued to tic, and, as Aang later said, continued to have an anxiety attack. It felt like an eternity when he finally saw the blurred face of Aang in front of him, moving in and out of focus. The monk’s mouth was moving, but no words were coming out.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t even think. The world around him had faded, falling into a grey abyss of nothingness where even feelings were numb and cold. He forced his eyes shut.

Suddenly, the ground beneath him began to move, it rumbled (much like he was), and out of nowhere, a hand gripped his hair tightly and pulled.

Freedom. He was free, but he couldn’t register it. He swatted at the hand until it let go of him, letting him crumble to the ground in a hysterical heap. The touch only worsened the feeling of restriction, even though he was no longer confined to the hole. The ringing grew louder and louder still, and through it all he could hear was someone screaming his sister’s name. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was Aang.

The curled into a ball position that he so longed for was finally attainable, and Sokka immediately fell into it. His legs were twitching, his hands continually flying to the sky and flashing the number three (a new tic he had picked up that replaced the fist pumping. Where his body picked it up, he hadn’t a clue, but he supposed it was better than fist pumping at everything).

“I can’t-- yip yip, yip rumble yip-- breathe-- bruh-bruh-bruh--!” he screamed it. How his vocal cords found the strength to scream, he didn’t know. All he knew for certain was that he felt like he was dying.

A tender, cool, calloused hand landed on his shoulder and he shuddered at the touch, desperately trying to shake it off. The hand would not relent.

Oftentimes, the light at the end of the tunnel was his name. The ringing halted to a stop, when through the blaring he heard: “Sokka”. The voice was loud but it was not forceful. It was commanding yet compassionate. “Sokka, can you hear me?”

Eyes still forced shut to calm the blinking, he nodded.

“It’s Katara. I know I’m already touching you, but can I hug you? Is that okay?”

Katara… his sister. His mind halted at once, the thoughts of death and breathing slipping away. Cautiously opening an eye, Sokka found his sister in front of him, one hand on his shoulder, the other hovering near his back.

A relieved sigh fell from her lips as he opened his second eye, blinked a few times, and then met hers. Her beautiful blue eyes felt like home. “Thank the Spirits,” she mumbled. “Can I hug you, is that okay? Aang chased away the mother Sabertooth Moose Lion and Toph got you out of the hole. You can move now.”

Realization hit him in full force. Toph didn’t even know he had Tourette’s yet. The chance to tell her never really came up. She probably hated him now.

He nodded once more, leaning into his younger sister’s touch, wrapping his own shaking arms around her, and letting her hold him as he whimpered.

Her touch was warm, heating the coolness of his fear into oblivion. He always liked when Katara hugged him. She always hugged him loosely, allowing him the room to maneuver or wiggle his way out if he felt uncomfortable.

Peace flooded over him, his tears vanishing with each passing moment and his breathing more stable with each breath.

“I’m-- rumble- rah-- so sorry,” he gasped once he extracted himself from the hug, finally calm and back into reality, as the world came back into sight.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Katara stated firmly, sitting beside him. “We should have looked for you sooner when you didn’t return. I was just so caught up in Aang learning Earthbending and Toph is kind of a mean teacher--”

“Katara, it’s-- yip yip-- fine, really.”

“You were stuck here for hours, Sokka, hours! I was so worried…”

Hand holding wasn’t his thing, not in the slightest. It made his fingers hurt and he could never get his hands to hold still long enough for it to be comfortable for anyone. Katara, though, was the one exception. He reached for her hand, holding it tightly and rubbing his fingers against the back of it.

“Thu-Thu-- Thank you,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Katara leaned her head against his shoulder, finally allowing herself to breathe, all of her worries and fears slipping away with every exhale.

From the corner of his eye, Sokka noticed Aang slowly inching towards him, Toph lingering at his side. He gulped. “Aang, sorry I f-- fr-fre-fuh-fr--freaked out on you. Did I-- rumble rumble-- scare you again?” he asked.

Aang nodded sheepishly. “A little bit. Sorry I couldn’t Earthbend you out. I should’ve gotten Toph right away.”

Sokka shrugged, careful not to jostle his sister’s head. “Eh. It’s okay. You just started l-- luh-luh-rumbLE, LE, LE-- learning.”

The large grey eyes grew wider by the second. Aang bit his lip and glanced anxiously at Sokka. It was a look that Sokka had learned early on. “Come here,” he sighed, gesturing to his other side. “Not too close, though, okay?”

Aang immediately zoomed over and into his side, scooting away slightly before settling.

Sometimes, Aang just needs to be loved and reminded that he’s just a kid and that it’s okay to feel worried and that it’s okay for him to not believe everything was his fault. That look, that look was one asking for forgiveness, one of asking for affection.

And then there was Toph.

It was funny, really, how quickly Sokka could go between completely freaking out and needing someone to help him to him being the comforter, the calm and collected one. He supposed it was because his tic attacks weren’t very frequent, and this one was more extreme than most (probably due to being stuck for hours and having an anxiety attack), so he was used to jumping back into normalcy.

Toph, on the other hand…

“Hey, you,” he called. “Blind Bandit-- yip yip, you need to yip yip-- come join us!”

The hesitant and frightened look (Spirits, she was only twelve too) on her face was a huge contrast in comparison to her pale and usually uncaring complexion. And for a moment, she faltered. Being new and all, Sokka really couldn’t blame her. She barely knew them.

“I’m f-- fuh-fuh--fine,” he assured her. “I have Tourette’s so sometimes-- rumble-rah-rah-- when I can’t move my body freaks-- yip yip (whistle)-- out and sometimes I panic. Then we got attacked by a Sabertooth Moose Lion, I think? I kinda blanked out for that part-- rah-rah-rah--, but anyways, point is, I’m okay. And, I’m sorry for sc-- yip yip-- scaring you.”

The young Earthbender cautiously took a step forward.

“Don’t worry-- wah-wah-worry--, it’s not usually this bad. I guess me getting trapped in a hole-- rumble, rumble, rah-- wasn’t enough torment for the Spirits so they threw a large animal at me. It’s usually just small, normalish things like making hand gestures or my neck twitching,” he continued to explain, his tone gentle and trying his best to suppress his vocal tics for the moment to coax Toph closer. “Are you okay?”

Toph snorted. “I’m not scared, Snoozles. I just… I just couldn’t see what was going on completely and I was confused!”

“And worried!” Aang piped up from his side. “Don’t forget that you were also worried!”

Sokka smiled while Toph growled. She stomped her foot on the ground and a beam of Earth collided with Aang, sending him flying through the air and roughly hitting a tree.

“Ow,” he mumbled, rubbing his head.

Toph just shrugged, quickly making her way to steal Aang’s spot next to Sokka. The young warrior saw the Earthbender raise her fist towards him, then falter.

“Yes, you can touch-- yip yip-- me now,” he laughed. “Uhh, also, sorry for hitting you earlier.”

A hard blow landed on his arm, but he couldn’t have felt happier about it. The trio learned very early on that punching arms was Toph’s way of showing affection. “No biggie. I can take it.”

Aang came stumbling towards them, pouting. “No fair, Toph! I wanted to sit next to Sokka!”

“Well then, make Sugar Queen move and take her place.”

“But Katara has first dibs, she’s his sister!”

“Snooze you lose, Twinkle Toes.”

“But--”

Katara opened her eyes and then proceeded to roll them. “Just come sit next to me, Aang,” she interrupted, extending an arm for the airbender to lean into.

Aang’s face lit up and he raced to her side.

Sokka sighed. Ah, normalcy.

----

Ahhh okay! I hope you liked it!

In case anyone was wondering, the reason why I stopped writing the tics in during the tic attack is because tic attacks (in my own personal experience) are kind of a constant stream of tics where something is always happening, and it would be really hard to write. So, when he had his anxiety / tic attack, I let it flow from there because there’s no way I could write that well or portray it right!

Thank you for reading! I’m always open to Sokka with Tourette’s questions, comments, concerns, etc...! I enjoy talking about it haha! I would also love to hear anyone’s personal Sokka with TS headcannons or ideas or any TS character stuff!

I am also always up to procrastinate, so if anyone ever has any writing prompts or fic recs, please lemme know!

and as always, Katara is FANTASTIC:)

[illusion-reality-steve]

Reaction to Rainbow Steve’s fall

Oh no...Rainbow Steve, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k9VDZSd-VZI

They’re TEAMING UP?!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AEp9GPF22cU

Everyone always asks “Who is Rainbow Steve now?”

But no one ever asks “How’s Rainbow Steve?”

First of all, AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH

My heart. My aching heart.  I actually took, like, a week long break between watching these two episodes because the first episode really hit close to home for me.

These episodes were so serious and dark. It was such a mood whiplash. It’s been literally forever since I last heard serious Sabre. The mood is so solemn and serious. And honestly, really good call. If the episodes had any comedic moments, that would had been a really major mistake.

The first episode was really painful to watch because, again, it hit close to home. I really relate to Sabre and Time’s position in that episode. I know what it’s like to see a friend who is so upset and wants things to end, and I have to comfort them. But that friend keeps shutting every comforting word, dismissing it all as fiction because they cannot see anything positive at all about themself and their situation.

Sabre, a human who isn’t able to break blocks, can only use his words to save a life. And this episode really shows how serious and important and angst-filled that role is. Sabre is basically that online friend who has to comfort their online, upset friend.

This episode also really contributes to the “optimism vs pessimism vs despair” theme this series has been building up.

And ah, I was right that Sabre will realize the culture/expectation of the Hero causes more harm than good and that everyone needs to help save the world. I analyzed and theorized this would happen in this post. But dang, it hurts to be right. It hurts to see that the person suffering the most from this toxic savior culture is Rainbow ;-;

I really love the execution and the serious tone of these two episodes.

But of course, I still have some gripes with these two episodes. Three of them, to be exact:

1: That the episode referenced Rainbow’s identity crisis established earlier in Season 2 by giving Rainbow Imposter Syndrome and making Sabre worry about the morale drop

Like I said in my very ranty Reverse arc post, I really hate that RQ did a speedrun of the “Rainbow’s new identity” crisis. We’re way past that by now; RQ established that Rainbow’s identity as an Orange Steve doesn’t matter because his friends will support him no matter what. So it feels really anticlimatic that RQ suddenly made this a big deal so many episodes after it did a speedrun of this arc. It’s just disappointing and breaks my suspension of disbelief.

I really dislike the forced lack of communication. Why aren’t you telling the Orange Steves about this, Sabre and Blue Steve? Orange Steves already know Rainbow and are willing to help them. Don’t leave them in the dark.

2: How Sabre chooses to comfort Rainbow Steve

I also dislike that Sabre tries to comfort Rainbow by saying “You’re Rainbow, and that’s a good thing. Things will get better and we need you.” Because I don’t think that’ll help. Sabre didn’t even ask what Rainbow was feeling; Sabre just tried to force Rainbow to be optimistic and didn’t even ask Rainbow what he even wanted (like a therapist, more heroes like Light Steve to help him, or a simple walk through the woods).

If the Darkness was like, a presentation in front of a huge audience, and Rainbow was the anxious presenter, Sabre pretty much just said “I know it’s hard, but please just do the presentation anyways. We can get you friends to help you with the next presentation and the audience isn’t that scary.” To some stressed people, those words do help. But what if Rainbow just wanted a moment to breathe and relieve stress? What if Rainbow wants to see a therapist? What if Rainbow being told that his stress is irrational just made him feel worse? Rainbow deserved to hear options, not just the first thing Sabre can think to say.

Void is right in that Sabre keeps speaking for Rainbow. I can see how Void is basically showing Rainbow unhealthy coping mechanisms

Sabre really messed up with comforting Rainbow, but I can let this slide because it made the plot feel so much more realistic. Being kind and comforting someone is a skill. A difficult skill. I think Sabre didn’t realize he made Rainbow feel worse and it’s just good, tragic drama

3: My third major issue is....this

[ID: A Minecraft chat that reads “Void Steve: For i am a living void, who feels NO sence of empathy.” End ID.]

Here’s the reality: “lack of empathy” =/= “evil.” I know that some neurodivergent people struggle with empathy. I will not speak for that community since I’m not part of it, but I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t dehumanize them if they struggle with empathy.

So Rainbow Quest...I’ll be keeping this dialogue in mind as I watch how you portray Void and Rainbow in future episodes. You better not be villainizing a certain group of people, Rainbow Quest, because that’ll be Yikes.