#this game keeps affecting me in all sorts of ways forever

[organizationhimself]

MAJOR SLAY THE PRINCESS SPOILERS FOLLOW (and maybe also pristine cut legit not sure)

i just wanted to chronicle an experience i had with the game because it's hitting me in an unexpected way (that i'm sure those geniuses intended, but maybe not in the specific way it hit me).

to set the scene, i reached the end of the game and spoke to the princess there, and i don't remember if being able to apologize was a thing or not pre-pristine cut but obviously it's my quest in life now to apologize for every bad thing i do to my dear cascade of delicate/bloodied/soft/torn/clawed/manacled/gloved/splintered hands, so i told her so, and the princess recounted slitting my throat the first time we met with sheepish nonchalance.

and i remember hesitating for a moment.

because she was wrong.

to explain, this was a run where i'd decided to see what the shifting mound (henceforth shifty) had to say about it if i pushed her to the edge of disaster before agreeing to bring her all her vessels. (you get pretty creative with this game if you play it for long enough and the new gallery encourages plenty of previously unknown cruelties.) it turned out she didn't actually say much, and i mostly forgot about it and finished the playthrough as usual.

but see i'd sort of planned ahead. the first few vessels i encountered were going to be immediately thrown on the altar of "deliberately antagonize shifty" and not be viable for the rest of the playthrough. knowing this, i could choose which princesses got to confront me with the consequences of my actions in the final battle, and which ones to never see again. and while i love the princess in every form of course obviously no question, i tend to be a more squeamish player who shies from the crueler options unless i'm exploring the game's mechanics, like i was now. so i decided to just retrieve the blade until i ran out of princesses on that side of the choice.

this means the first time i met this princess i slayed her with absolutely no hesitation.

then i turned my back on the spectre and started again. retrieve blade. create the razor. leave. retrieve blade. create the adversary. leave. retrieve blade. create the tower. leave. every time i saw the words "chapter ii" i turned around, until shifty warned me that one more vessel would doom us both.

only then, taking the blade down for the last time to create the prisoner, did i start giving her vessels.

so at the end of things, the princess who thought she was recalling everything we'd been through together wasn't remembering our first encounter at all.

she was the fifth.

by that point there was no novelty on my end at all, and the four vessels before her had never been folded into shifty's multitudes for her to be able remember their brief, violent lives. she wasn't the first princess i'd met, just the first princess i hadn't hurt and then abandoned, and by pure coincidence she was also the one i'd treated with the most gentleness by process of elimination. and i'd asked her for forgiveness, but she couldn't absolve me for what she couldn't even remember, for what was lost in those discarded parts of herself that would never come home.

i don't exactly know what my point is. it's not like shifty doesn't forgive all; she does, and i'm eventually going to find out what she says in response to the same apology aimed at a princess who remembers this time, and i'm sure it will be water under the bridge like it always is. and i'm not losing sight of the greater fact that this is a fake princess who lives in fake and the crimes committed against her are also fake. it's just that, as i took her hand and left with her for something new (as i almost always do), i felt...

unease.

[lovieku]

ORDINARY THINGS ⋆ 정국

𐙚 ordinary things, as long as i’m with you.

after a lost match, jeongguk’s only source of comfort is you.

from the grande series ୨ৎ

pairings: soccer captain!jk x fem!reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: lower case intended, i wanna say that i know very little about soccer, even more about what goes on behind the scenes, but of course i had to put jeongguk in bellingham’s iconic holey socks hehe 😻, it’s a bit angsty at first just bc ggukkie is an angsty boy, but then all of it is just fluff really! hints at mental illness, heavy use of the pet name baby, they’re so funny i love them, theyre also horny! only mentions of sex tho, and sexy kisses and touches keke

word count: 6990

a/n: waaa omg i managed to keep this under 10k words who’s proud of me! this is so slow but im in love w their domestic dynamic 🙁

────୨ৎ────

the piercing whistle cuts through the air.

it marks the official end of the match, sealing the loss of your boyfriend’s team. the sound feels sharp, final, not only to the game.

you knew this was fairly important. it wasn’t too decisive on the team’s position in the ranking, but you knew it mattered to him. like every other game, regardless of stakes.

whether it was a friendly or a tournament, jeongguk had no other mode but all in.

that dedication shows in every tense line of his body now. the weight of defeat begins to sink in, and you can see it on his face, the way it affects him.

you can already sense what’s swirling around in his mind, behind the quiet exterior. you’re sure of it from how he still stands there, avoids his surroundings, keeps his eyes glued to the ground, the green field suddenly more captivating.

you don’t need words to know. he’s retreating inward, locking away his disappointment, and likely taking on more than just the burden of his own loss.

he’s probably thinking of his teammates, feeling like he let them down too. allowing it all to crash on him, the single outcome of this match unraveling everything he worked hard for.

his confidence shatters with the referee’s whistle, and it shuts down the noise of the crowd, makes him unresponsive to the comforting pats on his back from his friends. it’s all a distant hum to him now.

jeongguk is deliberately slow as he almost mechanically leads his exhausted self out the pitch, body moving without his mind’s consent.

he doesn’t care if it’ll take him forever to take these steps. if he’s the last one leaving. he just needs a moment to figure out his next move.

but can he? can he face his team without this ugly feeling gnawing at him? can he keep lying, tell them they did well, that they’ll do better next time, while his own mask suffocates him? is he even deserving of the captain title?

he doubts it, his legs moving as if the world has time to offer him, body struggling under the weight of a lifeless feeling creeping in.

your heart clenches painfully. from the sidelines, watching him like this breaks something in you.

you grip the hem of your tennis skirt, fingers twitching as you fight the crazed urge rising in your throat to just run to him.

it’s hard to find your breaths when witnessing your boyfriend destroying himself as if that’s the only treatment he thinks he’s deserving of. but you also know the last thing you want to do right now is to draw more attention to him when he’s so raw, vulnerable. when every eye in the stadium strips him bare.

and you just want to put his every piece back, cover him in warmth. your mind is made up when you abruptly stand up, hastily making your way toward the locker room before he can get there, offering polite smiles to the players who are already getting inside.

you settle outside the door, waiting.

jeongguk drags behind the others, eyes still casted down. he’s so absorbed in his escape, so lost in the act of avoidance, that you’re certain he won’t notice you, with your beating heart held out to him in your cold hands.

yet, he does find some sort of answer in the ground he keeps staring at, asking for solutions.

amidst the worn, muddied football boots, he spots your shoes. dr. martens platforms, the ones you pair with white socks that ruffle at the top.

the sight is enough to pull him out of his daze, and he looks up.

the door to the locker room closes behind the last player, the heavy thump echoing in the long hallway. it startles you, just as jeongguk’s sudden awareness startles him, and you search for some sort of stability in each other’s eyes.

his own are glossy with unshed tears, and they glisten under the harsh fluorescent light. it doesn’t help the way his vision gets blurrier and pulls you farther from him.

but he needs to see you— the comfort in your face, the one that he feels as though he can’t breathe without.

jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut, the tears slipping free, but the moment he flutters his eyelids open and meets you clearly, he doesn’t care.

his wide, tear-filled gaze takes you in. brows drawn up, your expression seems to mirror his. you’ve always absorbed people’s emotions to an almost extreme degree. when others cry, so do you. and when jeongguk cries, it feels like the whole world is falling apart.

but you can’t afford that happening, and you’ll hold its full weight on your shoulders to prevent such thing.

this time, you need to be stronger for him. swallowing the lump rising in your throat, you blink back your own tears and take a hesitant step toward him.

jeongguk, so much taller than you, seems to shrink before your eyes. right now, he’s the smallest, most fragile boy.

“baby,” your voice is a soft whisper, arms stretching open in a subtle invitation, one that he doesn’t need to be asked twice.

the moment you speak and break the quiet, the dam he’s been holding up crumbles. he crashes into you, hands wrapping tightly around your waist, his nose buried in the crook of your neck.

the impact makes you stumble slightly, but you hold him just as tight in return, focusing on his sharp breaths against your skin, wet with his tears, body trembling in your embrace.

your arms wrapped around his neck, you squeeze him hard, as if he’s a sponge that you’re trying to empty from all the dirty liquid. all the exhaustion, the anxiety, the guilt.

with the way he downright drops his full weight on you, you guide him to sit on the bench just outside the locker room. he slumps beside you, heavy and limp against you, seeking your warmth and comfort the way an addict seeks for the drug that’s able to keep them going.

you sit like that for a while, and you think it’s better this way. he has time to let it out against your chest, and you have the time that you need to compose yourself before you’re met with the full extent of his brokenness.

the second you see his tear stricken face, you think all of the effort was useless. you’re so, so weak.

jeongguk hiccups, lifts his face, his wide eyes flitting between yours like one would follow a tennis match at his peak point, searching for something, the smallest indicator of victory.

the tears make his cheeks red, and it adds to the frantic pleading he trips on, “b—baby, please. i don’t— i’m tired. wanna— home—“

“hey, gguk. ggukie, breathe,” you’re gentle when you cut him off, taking his face between your small palms to try and steady his panic, and mostly yourself. you’re fighting hard to not break too, to try and be the anchor he needs.

you take exaggerated deep breaths, hoping he’ll mirror you, and after a few moments his chest rises and falls in sync with yours, warm breath fanning over your lips.

imperceptibly, you feel his panic begin to ebb. his brows relax and his eyelids blink slower, regaining consciousness of his surroundings.

his hands reach up, covering yours as they rest at his jaw, squeezing them, and he exhales shakily, still not fully over his agitation, “i’m sorry. i wanna go home. i don’t— don’t wanna do interviews, don’t wanna see anyone. don’t wanna talk to coach. i just wanna be with you, please.”

his speech is hushed, pleading, his words slurred as if afraid you’re going to stop him, force him to go through the motions of what’s expected of him before he can beg further.

you brush his cheek with your thumb in a slow motion, moving him closer to you, your voice as careful as possible, “but, jeongguk… we can’t disappear without at least telling the others. coach will want you to answer—“

“please, love. please,” he cuts you, words trembling, “don’t make me go through this. i’m too weak now. i can’t.”

you’ve never seen jeongguk like this before.

it’s been over two years since he asked you to be his girlfriend. that night, he scored a goal for you. you knew it the moment the ball hit the net.

even with his teammates swarming him in celebration, his eyes searched for yours, locking on the moment he found you in the stands.

wrapped in your wool scarf, your face almost fully hidden, the way your eyes turned into crescents and your cheekbones so prominent was unmistakable.

the smile that you shared was sheepish, but brimming with meaning. carrying all those emotions you had both been tiptoeing around for so long.

for a while, your feelings had been caught in a slow dance, never fully picking up, but nonetheless comfortable with the motion.

jeongguk always found a reason to have you near, inviting you to practices and matches, because only your presence could give him the strength needed. and you always found a reason to show up.

even more when you easily fell into the routine that followed every encounter, evenings spent at your apartment, on your couch.

it was a schedule you soon came to love, with him making you laugh, an arm draped over your shoulder, your leg casually resting across his lap. the movies you would put on would quickly become background noise as his playful jokes turned into shared glances, quiet giggles, and stolen kisses.

kisses that felt like the ones teenagers share when they’re crushing on someone for the very first time.

kisses that didn’t evolve into anything more until that night, when he scored for you. it was unashamedly sweet, the feeling he gave you.

back at his flat, his face lit up with a grin so big it was infectious. the rush of adrenaline from winning the game and the joy of finally making you his girlfriend radiated from him.

it’s a stark contrast to his expression, now. it’s drawn with helplessness, clouded with a desperation that makes you ache.

he looks tired of fighting, of holding it all together. and it’s not just that— there’s a deep yearning, a frantic search, a needy plea to be understood, to be seen by you.

there’s nothing that truly comes more innately to you. it’s second nature, caring for him. knowing him. looking after him. tending to his physical and emotional scars. and you don’t want him to scrape his skin further.

you try to reason, “what— what about your things, don’t you at least want to—“

“i’ll ask taehyung to take my bag with him or something,” for the state he’s currently in, he still looks willing to do anything if it means getting out of here. and so, he begs again, “please. can we go home?”

you know you can’t say no to him. that’s not something that comes as good to you. not in your nature.

“this is not the way to your house.”

still in his soccer jersey, the uniform’s shorts touching his knees and holey socks high up his calves, muddy boots hurting his feet, jeongguk sits quietly next to you in the backseat of his car.

his chauffeur drives steadily, away from the hurt, and each mile puts more distance between jeongguk and the weight of the loss, the field, the pressure. he feels himself leave fragments of disappointment behind, back there.

it’s been a long time since it was just the two of you in his car. jeongguk would be the one driving, his left hand steady on the wheel, the right one always reaching for yours, a quiet confirmation of his love.

now, someone else takes care of the driving, especially after games, or in moments like these when jeongguk’s mind and body are too exhausted to handle anything more.

ever since the goal that changed everything between you two, jeongguk’s life took off. a big team recognized his potential and signed him, a moment that marked his breakthrough as pro in the football world.

then, it became a whirlwind. constant games, media attention, opportunities flooding in, and money pouring from every direction.

he bought a house — a mansion, really, — just outside the city, the kind of place he dreamed of as a small kid with big ambitions. everything about it is luxurious, grand, all jeongguk thought he wanted.

but there’s been something left behind, back in the quieter days when he was just a young player fighting for his place on this planet.

you met him before the fame, before his name was on the backs of jerseys and his face on billboards. you fell in love with the boyish version of him, the one who lived in a cramped flat, working tirelessly to make a name for himself.

you’ve been there through every step, enough to recognize the struggle in his eyes.

you so easily catch that flicker of awareness in him. the jolting confirmation that all of this is real, his orbs trembling. and when it hits, he retreats into himself, lets anxiety creep in.

he may not voice it, but you know the root of it. the fear of losing himself, of becoming someone else, of forgetting the version of him that’s grounded in simplicity and love.

jeongguk fears intertwining himself with what he always wanted will inevitably erase what he’s always been, the son of hardworking parents in busan, raised on sacrifice and dreams.

what he always had with you. quiet, uncomplicated. happy with the ordinary things, eating ramen on the floor of his tiny apartment, driving around just to talk about anything and nothing, reading quietly next to each other in the cafè you’ve introduced him to, your presence a comfort to him long before he realized he loved you as more than a friend.

jeongguk wants to hold onto that simplicity, and he wants you to be part of that. he wants you to stay by his side, to be the reminder of who he is beneath all the noise. what he wants to keep being.

because you’re his constant, unwavering, never changing. you’ve never needed him to be more than who he already is. you never look at him with the kind of judgment or disappointment that seems to follow him after every missed opportunity. there’s no pressure, no expectations of success.

in your eyes, he is just jeongguk— the same boy that approached you with a bad pun only to clumsily blame it on his drink. the one you built a familiar rhythm with, ordinariness always just enough for you. for the two of you, together.

you don’t need mansions, fancy restaurants, designer clothes. you don’t need grandeur. you’ll stay the way it’s always been, and the way you both want it to stay.

he quickly scans your face, letting your words register. your brows are furrowed slightly, pouty lips parted as if you’re about to tell the driver that he’s going the wrong way, headed somewhere other than the house he now calls home.

before you can speak, jeongguk interrupts you, his voice soft and suddenly self aware, “oh, i— sorry, i gave directions to your apartment. i just really wanted to be there with you.”

you blink at his fragile honesty. he had begged to be home, and now here you were, on the way to your own.

warmth spreads through you, and you can’t help but break into a big smile, one that eases the tension in his forehead, and mirrors softly in the grin that tugs at his pierced lips.

leaning in, you place a peck on his cheek, “it’s okay, baby. i’ve got so many of your clothes in my closet, there won’t be a problem.”

his low chuckle is comforting, and he scrunches his nose in that familiar way, shuffling closer to nuzzle into your shoulder. for a moment, the world outside fades. you’re hopeful as you think you can feel the weight on his heart lifting.

looking up, a teasing smile spreads across his face, “i wonder why.”

his playful shift surprises you, though you try not to show it. you want him to feel normal, like there’s nothing you should keep being sad over. your brows raise ever so slightly before you roll your eyes in mock exasperation, the fond amusement clear on your features.

it’s enough for jeongguk’s giggles to fill the car, an arm snaking around your waist, “it’s because you always steal my clothes.”

feigning shock, you gasp dramatically, swatting him lightly. he only laughs more, soft sounds bubbling up again, and you can feel love rushing through you, swarming frantically in your chest.

you play along with him, “no, it’s because you always leave your stuff behind after we— we…”

you trip on your words and pause when you realize what nearly slipped out, sheepishly averting your gaze to glance at the chauffeur, who seemingly looks too focused on the road to hear what you’re saying.

jeongguk’s eyes light up, his smile widening as his fingers teasingly pinch your sides, “after we what? say it, baby.”

you flinch at his ticklish touch, breaking into a grin and stubbornly shaking your head no. his laughter mingles with yours, bodies pressing tighter as he leans his weight into you, his nose brushing your jaw.

being this close to him, you inhale his scent. he still smells like adrenaline, mixed with exhaustion, sweat pearling his back. the feeling grounds you.

he hums lowly against your skin, his lips trailing wet pecks along your throat, “i miss doing that.”

your chuckle turns into a frenzied groan, and you steady yourself with your hands on his arm still squeezing around you, feeling your face heat up, “that was three days ago.”

”too long,” he mumbles, kisses slowly becoming more languid, savoring you.

when he pulls away from your neck, he doesn’t give you a moment to breathe before his lips find yours. the kiss is simple, sweet, but you can feel each beat of his pulse against your mouth.

you break the contact first, your hand slipping into his damp hair, gently brushing the long strands out of his eyes. you think out loud, admiring his perfectly framed face, “you need to cut these.”

but jeongguk isn’t currently interested in haircuts. he ignores your suggestion, his focus entirely on you, and his whispered words hold a kind of raw vulnerability, “i missed you.”

you hum, threading through his locks, “missed you too, my boy.”

that’s all he needs to close the gap between you again. this time, his kiss is more intent, deeper, as if trying to communicate what words can’t. his hands pull you closer, your chest arching into him, and in between the wet sounds of your lips meeting he lets a moan escape him.

you’re quick to swallow it, your own quiet noises vibrating against him before you put distance once again, softly tugging at his hair and finding his eyes lovingly, “let’s get home first, yeah?”

but he protests, a childlike groan reverberating in his throat, eyelids fluttering shut as he basks in the feeling of you against his lips. he attacks your cheeks next, trailing down, and down, and down, kissing you through your shirt.

then, it’s his fingers touching you under it, hand traveling up and kneading your breasts through your bra, only to slide around to trace the curve of your spine.

the sudden contact is overwhelmingly pleasuring, head thrown back on the headrest as quiet whimpers leave you. jeongguk is as hungry as ever, seeking for proximity no matter your bodies already molding with one another, his teeth scraping against your most sensitive spots, almost digging, eating, tasting.

and you want to let go, allow him to give you every last thing he’s holding onto, be selfish and take it all for yourself.

but you can’t when you know this is just another one of his escapes. he’s using this moment to drown out the chaos in his mind, to run from his pain, to bury his burdens and get high on a dopamine rush.

“baby, wait—“ in between gasps, you manage to get your voice out, but its whisper doesn’t seem to reach jeongguk’s ears, his long digits boring holes in the flesh of your bare thighs, prickling with goosebumps at his feverish touch.

in your own daze, you carefully take a hold of his face in your palms, lifting him up from the devoting motion of his lips on the edge of your shoulder, and the look in his eyes is hazed, inhebriated on the the burning of your skin under him, but it’s tinged with desperation.

behind his orbs there’s no other thought but to chase you, his only refuge, and your sweet smile only aggravates his crazed desire, trying to catch your mouth with his before you open it to speak, “i don’t want us to do this while you— you’re still mentally fragile.”

your worry is laced with love, it’s clear from the way it spills out of you, seeps from your delicate touch on his cheeks. but jeongguk’s eyes still widen in shock and shame, orbs shaking with panic.

his brows furrow in an attempt to conceal his turbulent emotions, but the city lights continuously flashing through the car windows only accentuate the glistening under his eyelids. he stammers, “i— i’m not— i’m… please. don’t reject me.”

the plea is shaky, and it makes your pulse race with agitation, fingers grasping his jaw with more intent as you’re quicker on your words than your own thoughts, “oh, honey, i’m not. look at me, please,” the way he flickers his gaze down only makes more panic flood in your veins, and you frantically search for him.

you manage to sound stable, whispered words fanning over his lips, “i just want what’s best for you, okay? do you trust me?”

he seems to lean into your touch, looking up at you through his lashes, brows still betraying him with the way they’re drawn up in sorrow. he hums in agreement.

you smile reassuringly, “perfect. then, i’ll tell you what we’re gonna do, hm?” when he nods, you continue, brushing his hair back through your calm words, “we get to my flat. take a hot shower. i make us something warm to eat. and then, if you still want to, i’m all yours. in our bed. sound good?”

our bed. the flicker in your boyfriend’s face doesn’t go missed. it’s fond, it softens his eyes, and it rushes down to his lips, struggling not to break into a grin. he pouts to hide it, and you can see he’s still ashamed by his earlier rush, his response muffled, “okay. i love you. i’m sorry.”

you coo, pulling his head to rest on your chest, drawing comforting strokes along his damp back, “i love you more. you did nothing wrong, baby.”

the both of you stay like that for a while. his cheek is squished against your breasts, lips parting to release quiet huffs, and your soothing motions run down his arm.

the quiet moment is interrupted by jeongguk’s phone ringing once again, loud and persisent, for the nth time in less than half a hour. he doesn’t even glance at the device when declining the call, and you catch the name flashing before the screen goes black.

it’s his coach calling. you stay quiet as he shuts off his phone completely, tossing it onto the empty seat next to him.

only a few moments pass before he looks up at you, his expression hesitant, a timid smile trying to mask the uncertainty in his eyes. you return his gaze with quiet confidence, nodding subtly, letting him know that you’re here with him— no matter what.

right now, all that matters is that jeongguk feels safe in your arms. you don’t care about the consequences he might face tomorrow. you’ll be there for him, just as you are now, when he needs you the most.

the moment you both step in your apartment, shoes messily discarded at the entrance (you’ll make sure to take care of his boots later), he trails after you like a lost puppy. he becomes your shadow, mirroring your every step with big eyes and a natural pout.

“take your uniform off, baby,” you gently instruct him while letting the water run from the shower head, adjusting the temperature until it’s hot enough for the both of you.

he slumps over on the toilet lid, eyes never leaving you as you move around the bathroom. when he lets them travel down your figure, a low groan escapes him.

you look so good in your skirt, the high socks triggering a weird, primal instinct in him, stirring dark fantasies that have him wishing you’d let him take you right there on the sink.

but he knows better than to mess with the plan you set earlier in his car for the both of you to enjoy the night, so he only allows himself to play with you a little, “can you do it for me? i’m tired.”

he really does seem tired, the exhaustion visible from the way his hands tremble slightly and his eyelids drop, but the look only adds to the lazy smirk spreading on his pierced lips. he knows what he’s truly asking for.

you narrow your gaze at him only to roll your eyes when he doesn’t look like he’s going to surrender any soon, grin only widening, and you pull him up by the jersey.

he complies, brows wiggling in teasing disobedience, looking down at you from his taller stance, “woah, commanding. i like it.”

“shut up,” you only murmur as you hastily strip off his sweaty uniform, throwing it right in the laundry bin. you leave him in his high socks and boxers, smacking his round ass playfully, “take these off yourself, mister.”

he’s ready to protest, to demand your touch back on him, but you shoot him a look with your raised eyebrows, “ah-ah. c’mon, and get in the shower, i’ll bring your change.”

before he can respond, you leave the bathroom. he whines childishly, slipping off his underwear along with the uncomfortable socks, adding them to the pile in the basket under the sink. he yells over the sound of running water, “you’re coming too, right?”

“yes!” you quickly call out from the bedroom, voice raised to reach him over the distance.

you know how difficult your boyfriend can be— if he hasn’t come to drag you in yet, you’re at least hoping he’s taken off the rest of his clothes. you foolishly hope he’s already in the shower, though the chances are slim if he’s not completely sure you’ll be joining him.

that’s why you move fast, grabbing his change of clothes from the drawer where you keep all his left-behind things. in your rush, you take one of his oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers for yourself, too.

when you return to the bathroom, you’re not surprised to find jeongguk standing in the middle of it, bare and waiting for you. his eyes light up when he sees you, taking the clothes from your hold and placing them on the counter, “i was about to come and get you.”

you scoff lightly, trying to fight the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, but it’s no use. especially when he reaches out to pull you closer, fingers working at the zip of your skirt and sliding it off with ease, his own grin warm on his expression.

you gently push him toward the shower, pretending to scold him, “i can do this myself, thank you. now get in, silly.”

with a disappointed, and very adorable huff, he finally obeys, stepping under the hot steam of water. you can tell by the subtle way his shoulder relax that the heat soothes him, but the tension doesn’t completely ease from his muscles.

he tracks your movements attentively, taking in the way you strip yourself completely bare, and only when you step in the small cabin and close the sliding window door behind you he sighs in relief.

jeongguk engulfs you immediately, positioning you both directly under the cascade of water. it blurs your vision slightly, your bangs flattening on your forehead.

you push them out of the way, your hands then finding his own hair to slick it back, allowing you to see the fondness in his eyes clearly.

you look up at him through wet lashes, chin placed on his toned chest, and his own is dipped low to meet your gaze, take in the smile spreading and making your dimples show.

it grows bigger when he sheepishly scrunches his nose, the love seeping from your orbs suddenly overwhelming, and you press a gentle kiss to his adam’s apple before pulling yourself away, voice a whisper, “let me take care of you.”

jeongguk doesn’t argue, complying when you ask to hand you his shampoo. you’d originally bought it as a joke during one of your grocery runs together, picking it off the shelf with a laugh and pointing out the label— johnson’s baby shampoo, made with honey and wheat extracts, and on sale too. you’d exclaimed how it was so jeongguk, and he’d let you try it on him as soon as you got home.

the joke had stuck, and to your surprise, he ended up liking it more than you did. now, it was the only shampoo you used on him whenever he stayed at your place, a small tradition between the two of you.

as you work it into his damp hair, jeongguk’s eyelids flutter shut. he eases into your touch, body going loose as your fingers massage his scalp with the perfect amount of pressure, the kind that always seems to make him melt, the one that could immediately put him to sleep.

you wash it off and repeat the motion once more, taking your time. only when his hair is thoroughly cleaned do you reach for your vanilla body wash, moving on to carefully lather it over his skin.

tracing every line of his body, you watch the way he softens more with your touch, unconsciously swaying closer.

you’re slow, deliberate in your motions, letting your hands run over his shoulders, down his arms, across his chest. his skin is warm and slick under your palms, and every now and then he lets out a contented sigh.

the sounds get fuller when you finally reach his back. you press a little harder, working out the knots you can feel lingering there. he groans softly, his head falling forward slightly, droplets of water dripping from his hair onto your face.

“feel good?” you ask quietly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

he nods, his voice low and drowsy. “yeah, feels amazing.”

his moans grow unrestrainedly louder, eyes rolling back, and you would tease him for it if the sight of him like this wasn’t having its own effect on you.

biting your lip, you press your fingers deeper into his muscles, and suddenly his hands grip your waist, tight enough to startle you.

it has your mouth opening unconsciously, brows furrowed at the sensitivity. you almost give in when his palms slip further down, resting on the curve of your ass, and for a moment you consider the temptation, but the triumphant smirk on his face immediately pulls you out of your daze. your own fingers work to move his hands to rest at your shoulders.

you manage to sound stable, but you can feel the slight shake in your voice, “hands up here, mister.”

“oh, c’mon,” he has the audacity to whine, the sound muffled by his pouty, and so inviting lips.

you almost cave at the sight of him, his eyes wide and pleading. but you know better. if you let him push the boundaries now, things won’t stop here, and the careful rhythm you’ve set will be forgotten.

it’s not just him you’re trying to hold back— it’s yourself too, especially when his gaze almost breaks through your resolve.

you shake your head, trying to gather your composure, suddenly turning off the water and sliding the shower door open.

jeongguk groans in protest at the contrasting cold air hitting his skin, but you promptly step out to reach for your bathrobe and wrap it around him.

pout stubborn on his lips, he follows you out the shower, but instead of arguing further, he surprises you by engulfing you both in the same robe, pressing his chest against your back.

his arms circle you, and he starts rubbing the spongy material of his sleeves against your body, trying to dry you both at once.

you snort, amused by his antics, “what are you doing?”

“i’m drying us.”

“this will take us forever—”

“no, see? i’m already done,” with ease, he slips out of the robe, laying it over your shoulders and tying the belt snugly around you.

then he casually walks over to grab his change of clothes, pulling the t-shirt over his head despite the fact that his hair is still dripping with water.

you roll your eyes at the sight of it soaking into the fabric and gently push him to sit on the toilet lid, “don’t move. you’re still wet, god.”

“that’s what she said,” he wiggles his brows, eyes gleaming with immature delight as he grins mischeviously.

you sigh, struggling not to laugh at his pun. instead, you wordlessly grab the hairdryer and start running it through his damp locks.

he obediently leans into you, closing his eyes and resting his head against your chest as your fingers run along his hair. the warmth from the device makes him nuzzle even closer, his posture fully relaxed between your legs.

once his hair is dry and his clothes no longer clinging to his skin, you finally shut off the hairdryer, giving his now fluffy locks a final pat.

the time it took to dry jeongguk allowed the bathrobe to work its magic on you too. you quickly slip into his boxers and one of his many stussy t-shirts you picked randomly, tying a towel around your hair.

you prepare to head out of the bathroom, but before you can his hand gently stops you, gripping your forearm, suddenly towering over you when he stands up, “where are you going?”

“to make us dinner.”

“i’ll do it. you should dry your hair, or else you’ll get a headache.”

“but—”

“no but. you already did enough, baby. i’m okay, i swear,” his voice softens, and the fond look in his eyes makes it clear he won’t let you argue further. he doesn’t even let you respond, stepping out of the room and heading to the kitchen.

a smile tugs at your lips, and you take a deep breath, the comforting scent of vanilla and honey still lingering after he leaves.

you’ve always appreciated jeongguk’s attention to detail. he knows how long it takes you to care for your thick, long hair and also remembers the countless nights you complained about your head hurting from leaving it damp. he always listens, even to the smallest things.

twenty minutes later, you’re warm and dry, stepping into the kitchen where the delicious smell of soup greets you. jeongguk is behind the stove, stirring a pot and softly whistling as he tends to another pan on the burner.

when he notices you, his eyes brighten, trailing over your legs and the way his t-shirt sits just above your thighs, revealing glimpses of his boxers. as you approach, he grins, “what’s a pretty woman like you doing here, alone?”

you’ve been with him long enough to know this is just the start of one of his playful roleplays, so of course you instantly know your line, “i have a boyfriend, actually.”

“oh, really? is he here too? can he fight?” his voice drops lower with every step you take towards him, with the last words coming out as a growl as you stand in front of him, looking up into his eyes.

you snort, “you’re so dumb.”

he stays in character, raising his eyebrows, “no, tell me. can he?”

you hum thoughtfully, pursuing your lips as you pretend to consider, your eyes wandering before settling on his again, “yes. he’ll break your nose.”

he chuckles, feigning surprise, “god, he sounds tough.”

“he is.”

with an arm snaking around your waist, he pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear, nose tickling your lobe, and he whispers, “but i just want you so bad, young lady. don’t tell him, hm?”

his mouth is on yours next, molding together in a sickeningly sweet, lingering kiss, and you let him find your tongue with his own, your front arching against his.

with your arms wrapped around his neck, you part slightly, your eyes jumping on every corner of his face. your voice is thick with pure love, “do you feel better, big boy?”

jeongguk smiles, presses it against your forehead, “so much better, thanks to you. i love you.”

“i love you more,” you momentarily lose yourself in his expression, and you have to blink harshly to pull yourself out of the daze before you fall too deeply into your emotions and start waxing poetic, letting your heart run as wild as the love in your veins.

you move from his hold, busying yourself with setting the small table in your kitchen, grabbing the usual pink glass for yourself and the yellow one for him.

he chose them himself a long ago, said pink reminded him of the way you blushed at his every action, and the yellow symbolized a sunflower always turning toward its sun, because, “that’s how i’ve felt ever since i met you.”

as you arrange the glasses, you almost forget what you were about to ask, but the faint ring of your phone from the bedroom reminds you, “is your phone still off? coach has been calling me.”

his brows knit slightly, betraying his otherwise calm demeanor, but he doesn't meet your eyes, focusing instead on plating the soup. “can we— not talk about it? just for tonight?”

a small gasp escapes you at his quiet plea, and you rush to his side to help him, taking the plates from him and placing them gently on the table, your words hushed, “of course, baby. i was just worried you might want to hear from him. i don’t care about all of that, i only care about you.”

a sheepish smile breaks through his composure, his front teeth worrying at his lip piercing. he looks up at you, lets himself be coddled by the warmth of your gaze, and he sounds just as timid as he looks, “hm. that’s what i wanted to hear.”

you shake your head fondly at his vulnerable side, motioning for him to sit with you, “silly. come, let’s eat, and then we can get some sleep.”

even after swallowing the burning soup, jeongguk still finds a way to tease, nudging your foot under the table with a mischievous grin.

"you’re not getting any sleep tonight," he quips, his voice low with playful intent. you roll your eyes and kick him lightly, making him yelp in exaggerated shock.

it becomes a game of back and forth, his dirty jokes pushing boundaries just enough to make you question if he’s actually serious. there’s a part of you that selfishly hopes he means it, but the side of you that knows him inside and out knows better.

sex for jeongguk isn’t just a casual thing, especially after a night like this. for the two of you, intimacy is more than physical— it’s an act of devotion, a way to connect deeply when words can’t express everything.

it’s never about distraction or escape, but about grounding one another, the flicker of something real and tender at the core of it.

tucked under the covers, waiting for him after he convinced you he could handle the dishes himself — arguing that picking a movie was just as much work — you’re not surprised by what he says when he finally enters the room.

“baby… i think i’m happy with just cuddles for tonight. that okay with you?”

you break into a big grin, brimming with unspeakable feelings for the man standing at the foot of your bed, for which you spread your arms open, “of course, sweetheart. come here, you big child.”

he doesn’t need to be told twice, instantly burrowing himself against the warm sheets, intertwining his limbs with yours. he nestles his head on your chest, sighing contentedly as if he’s found the safest place, “i love you. have i said that already?”

“a million times. and i’m never sick of it.”

“say it back.”

you snort at the insistence in his tone, words muffled by the fabric of your shirt, and your fingers unconsciously play with his straight locks as you swing one of your legs around his waist, your voice a whisper above the shuffling, “i love you more.”

he tilts his head up, chin resting on the softness of your breasts, “no, you don’t.”

brushing his bangs away from his eyes, you smile fondly, “i do. believe me.”

he huffs in faux protest, narrowing his eyes. but he gives in as quickly as he tried to argue, his cheek settling back to rest just where your heart beats, its steady beat lulling him into calm along with your gentle strokes along his nape.

jeongguk doesn’t resist it, doesn’t fight your love. accepts it as the purest form of closure he can get for himself, “hm. okay. i love you.”

[ccrisntok]

Your Masterminds, Whit Young, and Ace Markey! (mm! whace au)

(Spoilers lol)

what normal fellas ahahahahaha (I have poured my entire soul into these two there is nothing left of me)

A basic summary of their relationship:

Whit has spent like, over a year manipulating Ace into being complacent in his plans. In his own eyes, Ace is a sorta-stupid lacky, who he's constantly love-bombing to keep obedient. Although, he is a bit glad for the company... it was sorta empty when Ace was "dead" and they couldn't really talk. And maybe Ace almost dying from his fake execution was a bit disturbing. But he's sure its nothing! (He fell in love with him like a moron.)

Ace has fully fallen in love with Whit. He's not happy about it, but it happened. As a result, he's basically ruined any semblance of his own morality, just so he doesn't lose Whit, or the affection he knows is mostly performative. He's more than happy to kill his fuck-face classmates, after a... bit of prodding, and honestly, he'd do anything Whit asked at this point, even die. He'll still complain about it, though.

i tried to be as original as humanly possible, but I'm def giving credit to @talkativeanonymous, @acethehorseishere, and @a-blog-for-kat all for inspiring these two in one way or another (esp. a-blog-for-kat lol).

anyway there's the art, here's the promised lore. warning for like a million words. I'm serious. It's 1,400 words. you can stop here i don't blame you.

also sorry for the odd looking bullet points, didn't realize you couldn't have gaps lol!

This au operates on a probably un-canon assumption that I pulled out of my ass. That is that Mai Akasaki is both a student in the class of 27, and that she is the "time loop" student. She is usually a part of the killing game, but she isn't this time, for reasons I'll explain in a sec.

This specific loop, Mai is attempting to dissuade the (usual) mastermind from wanting to start a killing game in the first place. That mastermind is Whit Young.

She goes about this by trying to curb Whit's main reason for his descent into despair, his resounding loneliness, by giving him championship. Charles hasn't softened up to the others in any regard yet. But that wasn't the main reason, unbenouced to Mai.

In this loop, and this loop alone, Mai sets Whit and Ace up to be friends. She hopes they can help each other, since they usually end up more or less alone in their school life.

Surprisingly, it works. They get along decently well, although a codependency starts to develop on Ace's side.

Around this time, Whit takes up an internship at XF Future, which Mai doesn't realize. He innocently wants to explore other job options, "Matchmaking" not really being a stable career forever.

Obviously FX Future isn't a normal Tech Company. Whit starts to change, in a barely noticeable fashion, the longer he works there.

Ace notices Whit's contacts start looking a lot more vibrant after Whit takes a couple weeks off school for a "company trip." He thinks it's... sort of pretty.

(Whit's time at XF Future showed him a side of humanity he didn't realize existed. Insane levels of greed, using the concepts of "ultimates" to guide a stupid pubic where the Government wanted them, generally a dystopia. It feeds into his existing detachment from humanity, until he hits a breaking point, setting his sights on ending the "Ultimates" concept by killing the newest class in the public eye, including himself.)

(XF Future develops a new sort of technology, prosthetic "eyes" that basically turn you into a living remote control, able to connect to an entire building if its connected via a computer system. Security cameras, doors, fucking air conditioning- everything.

(Whit offers himself as the test dummy, and it goes perfectly.)

Anyway, Mai decides to talk to Ace, since she's starting to realize he's becoming a bit... softer after hanging out with Whit so much? And hopes like, for once, he'll actually accept help for his mountain of problems.

He doesn't take this conversation very well.

Mai, with knowledge from dozens of loops, accidentally brings up an extremely traumatic event, simply mentioning the name "Tyler" once.

In a blinding mix of rage and horror at Mai's knowledge of the event, that Ace has literally never even spoken about in this timeline, Ace shoves her away from him.

She falls backwards, and splits her head on a desk, killing her instantly.

Ace, in a horrified frenzy, calls Whit, literally his only friend.

Whit shows up. Ace expects him to freak the fuck out, call the cops, or something like that... But he doesn't.

Whit simply tells him they were going to hide the body together, not even remotely caring about Mai's death.

yeah that's a little fucking weird, and its terrifying, but going to jail is scarier sooo Ace goes along with it!

After this, Whit wraps Ace into uncharacteristically cruel pranks against some of their classmates and others at Hopes Peak, oftentimes resulting in physical injury.

He acts like these are completely normal and funny, while Ace is both freaked out by it, and sort of enjoys enacting pain on people he didn't like.

Along the way, Whit notices Ace starting to fall for him. Horrible news for Ace, since Whit plays into those emotions by becoming much more physically and emotionally affectionate. Which he doesn't enjoy, like, at all... not a bit...

Whit convinces Ace to assist him in greater and greater acts of violence until Whit just straight up kills someone (not a classmate, a stranger.)

Ace is of course tied into everything way too deep to stop now, and after all this... he doesn't really want to. So he stays as Whit's accomplice for months, up until Whit's weirdo behavior arrives at the idea of the killing game. He references the "First Killing Game", which Ace had never heard of.

The idea is a bit intense for Ace, but at that point, he didn't have anything beyond Whit. If it took this to stay with him... He'd do it. Even if in the end, they both were going to die.

So they get to work!

Ace had been taking engineering classes at Hope's Peak in hopes of getting out of jockeying, and he'd helped his family build sheds and shit since he was a kid, so he focused on the construction and executions.

Whit wired the building an all-encompassing computer system he could control, as well as stealing "Mono-TV" from XF Future, a robot he can fully control to be the "host" of the game.

He also steals the "mind wiping" technology from XF Future. It's weirdly easy to steal stuff from this company, hm? It's almost like they aren't protecting it...

Whit also uses another piece of experimental biological technology... on Ace.

A screen connected to his brain, a lottt less invasive than Whit's eye surgery. It doesn't impact Ace mentally, it just gives him the ability to produce visible projections for easy construction, communicate with Whit remotely, (and give Whit a way to always know what Ace's condition.)

The screen is unclipped when the game starts, but the brain implant is still connected to Whit, so he can detect Ace's condition.

After kidnapping the class of 27 and wiping their memories... It all starts. A killing game, streamed live to the entire nation.

Whit and Ace start off as a part of the class, interacting with the others like normal, a pretty decent show. Things go roughly as planned, putting everyone in the positions Whit wanted them. Untilll... chapter 2.

Ace gets his ass jumped, and almost dies prematurely. This is fine, Whit privately makes sure the wounds properly cleaned, but it does fill Whit with an... ominous feeling.

Ace still kills Arei, a part of the plan, and gets "executed", so he can more easily upkeep the executions and such behind the scenes.

After the screen playing the fake execution turns off, Whit checks to make sure Ace didn't get injured in his running around... but can't detect anything.

At all.

Ace's heart wasn't beating.

He actually, seriously, had a fucking heart attack.

(Ace's heart attack was for a combination of reasons. Firstly, his heart was actually in pretty bad condition as a result of his eating disorder, something Whit had figured was "over" by now. It wasn't!)

(Second, in that moment, the idea that maybe, just maybe, Whit could have been double-crossing him came to Ace. What if Whit loaded the guns? What if Ace's use was done, and Whit was finally getting rid of him? It was terrifying because he could die, and terrifying because... It'd make sense. It was all that ever happened to him.)

So he had a heart attackkk lameeeeee

This makes Whit tweak the fuck out, internally. (lol pretend his spooky ass sprite happens AFTER the execution, not before. shh its all made up its all pretend)

After Levi gets taken to the infirmary, Whit drops Charles off at his room as quickly as he can, then fucking BOLTS IT to a hidden passageway in his room to the like... Mastermind area, with the execution chamber.

Whit manages to resuscitate Ace in time, barely. And even after that, he's in pretty bad condition. But he's conscious and mobile.

Whit gets him as comfortable as he can, and after spending the night, he sort of... has to leave. He does some tweaks to Ace's brain screen thing, creating a functional heart monitor that Ace (and he) can watch.

As often as he can, Whit sneaks off to the Mastermind area at night to make sure Ace doesn't fucking die in his sleep. But Ace gets... decently better quickly, and returns to his duties overseeing the killing game.

Whit still visits almost every night to make sure Ace wakes up, which he can't really explain to himself. Ace was... supposed to be disposable anyway. Why would it matter if he died?

Anyway yeah the rest of the game happens. No clue there.

In the end, Whit and Ace come out as masterminds (happy pride).

I have a comic planned for how the end goes, soooo... that's it!

holy fuck! my fingers! hi the whole 2 people who made it down this far... uh... did you like my lore.....? do you want me dead now for having you read 1,400 words of two evil homsexuals...? 😅 love you thank you im sorry.

[weebsinstash]

I know it's dumb but I keep thinking about the whole applemedia x reader soulmates idea but it occasionally drifts into "what if they're not poly or ever become it over time BUT they're chill with sharing you BUT for the rest of forever they keep being super competitive over your affection" type shit and. Just.

Imagine Lucifer getting you pregnant and you think it's this, one time thing because, oh wait yeah he's the Devil, that makes sense, and he's lording over the other two that you and him are gonna have a baby, that now he has this extremely special connection to you and there's a piece of you and him now, and maybe you had wanted to be a parent anyways so they also see how happy it makes you

Then the new tiniest Morningstar is born and, you know what? Vox and Alastor ARE jealous. They're just. Forced to third wheel watching you and Lucifer with your new baby and, of course they still get included in things too, but... they hold your baby and suddenly they're painfully aware they can't have one with you, which starts to suck when spending time with you and Lucifer's baby makes THEM kinda want a baby of their very own too 🥺👉👈 they can't help it that your baby is a piece of you and it's just so cute and precious to them and they wanna love and protect it forever

I just started thinking about. The scenario being that everyone just assumes you got pregnant because Lucifer was the father but it turns out to actually be, either soulmate magic or whatever or, you as the mom have this unique special power and, thus. You get knocked up again by one of the other ones. Imagine sitting there in the OBGYN having your magic ultrasound and whatever and Lucifer finds out he's not the dad. It's less anger and more shock, confusion

I keep thinking of cute scenarios, like... you and Lucifer have your little baby and like months and months later Alastor is watching you cook at the stove with the baby in a sling as you talk to them and kiss the top of their little baby head and, it makes Alastor feel all warm and tender and sentimental, watching you be a little homemaker with your little baby, cooking a delicious hot meal... and then later that night you're just so tired from working so hard all day, and he's all too happy to tend to you now, pampering you, getting you whatever you please, leading to some cuddling, which leads to... other things...

Boom. Pregnant again. Everyone thinks it's Lucifer's until the first prenatal check up where it turns out to very obviously not be his. Vox is jealous in a very "well why them and not me" kind of way but he's also a sort of "ugh, snot nosed kids" kind of guy and tries to maintain a facade that, actually he's just so based and cool being the only one who ISN'T a dad

...until one day you're walking around your living space and you poke your head into a room and, there's Vox, showing some or his trading cards to you and Lucifer's daughter because she liked the pictures and he's answering all her little questions of 'what do these ones do'. In another instance, Vox achieves the most personal victory over Alastor by getting his and your son into video games and you walk in and your little boy is in the tech mogul's lap with the controller in his hands, "so then I use this one, right?" "Well, I dunno, remember what I taught you about the type system? I dunno if that one would work very well, little buddy" and you're just, melting a little, and you talk to him about it later, how you've noticed him bonding with the little ones, kind of teasing him a little bit about, 'is he going soft', 'wouldn't he want a little boy or girl to run up to him all 'Daddy this level is too hard can you help me beat it'' and stuff like that and, maybe he's even 🥺 insecure. He doesn't really have much experience with this kind of thing. He's not Lucifer or Alastor and, what if you don't think he's a good dad? What if his kid doesn't like him? What if he messes up and you hate him 🥺

So of course maybe you're even a little baby crazy because you know he wants one and, you might joke a little that, "it's only fair each of you gets at least one right :)". But. Then. Boom you're pregnant but, different! Cause now it's twins and Vox is gloating to the other two about 'his magic cock' and. They're both just. Almost like little kids, it flips this switch in them like, "well why does Vox get TWO kids, that's not fair 🥺"

You could still be in the delivery room holding little Gas Pedal in one arm and Radiator Fluid in the other and you're just watching the three of them, "well, I've wanted another baby for a while! I was just... being patient!" "You snooze you lose, asshole!" "Well there was never any formal agreement upon stopping at just one child each, so-" "oh, oh what, so you're both just gonna make another kid just to get one over on me? You're so petty, fuck both of you!" "Pettier than you having twins to beat us?" "That doesn't even make sense!" "Oh, so you admit it WAS out of your power then?" "Oh fuck you!"

You're just looking into the camera like you're on The Office because you've already endured several years of them being like this and you suppose This Is Just How Your Life Is Going To Be Now. Your new horny chaotic loud obnoxious lovable life as you now have to convince these three not to turn your body into a clown car as their baby fever and competitive edge spirals out of control forever and ever

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦

Kenji Sato x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐔𝐥𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.7k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Coach’s daughter AU, Fluff, lots of shameless flirting, teasing, secret relationship

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Over coffee and conversation, Ken finds solace in a café, far from the chaos of the baseball stadium.

Ken had never felt his heart gallop this intensely before. Not even during his rise to stardom with the Dodgers back in LA could compare to the thrill and anticipation coursing through him right now.

This was more personal— unpredictable in a way that no game or spotlight could prepare him for. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t chasing a title.

It was a moment with someone special that made everything else feel secondary.

Tucked away in a quiet street of Tokyo’s lesser known district, the glow of the neon signs reflected off slick pavements as he watched you navigate the path, weaving between parked bikes and stray vending machines.

The faint hum of the distant train was the only sound that filled the night’s silence.

“Ken!” your voice rang through the empty streets, bright and familiar. As you drew closer, Ken couldn’t help but notice how the muted lights reflected in your glossy eyes, giving them an otherworldly sparkle.

He didn’t say anything until you were close enough for you to hear him without yelling.

“You made it…” His lips curled into a smile, meeting your gaze with a tender look. “Did you get enough rest? You look a bit tired.”

“Barely,” you confessed, a playful tilt painted on your lips. “I’ve been counting down the minutes until I can see you again.”

Ken was used to fans clamoring for a moment of his time, expressing their excitement to see him. But something about the eagerness in your voice and the slight bounce in your step sent a flutter through him.

He glanced around, checking that the streets were still empty before reaching out to cradle your cheek.

“You’re so clingy.” he teased, still holding his grin.

“I would’ve kissed you right now if we weren’t in public.” you shot back with a small smirk.

Ken leaned closer until his face was eye level to yours, his voice dropped to a heated whisper

“I wouldn’t complain if you did.”

The impulse to close the distance simmered under his skin, but the risk of being seen was enough to keep him rooted.

“But I also don’t want an angry mob of your dad’s supporters coming after me after catching us in a compromising position.”

Your smile faltered, replaced by a shadow of worry. “Right…my dad. I don’t want anybody from the press finding out either.”

“Yeah, the press…” Ken’s expression hardened, his tone turning bitter.

The media always lurked, threatening to expose what little happiness he could claim. He wished he didn’t have to sneak around like this.

He envied those who could show affection openly, like some of his teammates who left games with their families in tow. The normalcy forever felt out of reach for Ken.

“Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like…” he murmured, eyes drifting past the dim glow of the distant lights. “If we dated openly, without worrying about your father, or the fans, or the media.”

Ken rarely admitted these things, but seeing how you aligned with his unspoken thoughts made it easier to voice his fragile feelings— especially about your relationship.

“What could the fans do anyway? It’s not like they could control your life.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ken said with a hint of edge. “There are some intense fans out there that take their idols' personal lives way too seriously.”

Ken didn’t want to think too deeply about a situation blowing out of proportion. If rumours began, he knew all too well how quickly fans would start prying on your life, looking for any reason to judge.

Even the slightest flaw could unleash a tornado of online harassment. He didn’t want to bring that sort of trouble into your life.

His jaws clenched, a grimace flashing across his features before he shook the thought away.

“I’m more worried about dad. If he ever found out about us…I can’t even imagine how he’d react. Especially after that latest press conference. He came home moping,” you said, the last words trailed into a tired groan.

“I know, I could’ve handled it better.” Ken chuckled, before it was shadowed by guilt as he remembered his altercation with Coach Shimura. “I hate when the press digs for gossip.”

A low rumble of an approaching car snapped him out of his thoughts. Its headlights illuminated the empty street, casting fleeting shadows over the both of you, before disappearing down the narrow road.

You take a hold of Ken’s hand and gently tug him forward. “Come on, let’s head inside.”

You slip into a small, dimly lit cafe— a hidden gem that seemed to be empty from the outside view. It’s secluded places like this that makes your relationship feel safe, untouched by the eyes of the world.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries enveloped him, a silent call of the rare moment of peace you shared.

The cafe itself was modest in size, with wooden chairs and tables neatly arranged beneath the dim ambiance lighting.

There were a few patrons scattered here and there— a couple sharing a quiet intimate conversation near the window at the high table, and a few students hunched over textbooks.

Sparse decorations adorned the walls: faded vintage poster advertising sodas and sweet treats with its vibrant colours faded over time.

At the centre of each table sat a miniature cherry blossom tree, the soft pink petals contrasted against the dark wood.

Together, you crossed the cafe's interior, where a lone worker was wiping down the countertops. The glass display case in front of you showcased an array of cakes and pastries, though the selection was limited at this hour.

“You gonna order anything?” you asked, eyes scanning over the hanging menu above the counter.

“Yeah…a latte and maybe a cake, too,” Ken paused, gaze flickering over the cake display before shifting back to you. “You want anything?”

“I’ll probably get a bowl of anmitsu,” you mused, turning to meet his eyes. “What kind of cake will you be getting?”

Ken hums in thought for a moment, leaning in closer to the display. Rows of desserts were neatly arranged.

Fluffy cake rolls on the tile shelf with their swirls of cream peaking our— flavours ranged from strawberry to matcha. Slices of chiffon cakes in pastal colours on the middle shelf. And finally, tiny containers of pudding at the bottom.

“Not sure yet,” he murmured, his mind wandering over the cake display. His smile took a slight wicked edge as he added. “Maybe a cake I can feed you a bite of…”

The image of him holding out a spoonful to you flashed through his mind, followed by your lips closing around it. His imagination reeled, and he caught himself chewing his lower lip, a faint flush creeping up his neck.

Just as his thoughts threaten to wander further, your voice pulls him back to the present.

“Their chiffon cakes are always good.” you said, gesturing towards the pastel cakes.

“Yeah?” Ken followed your gaze to the neatly placed cakes. “But they’re crumbly. I’ll get cake all over your face.”

“It’ll be worth it though.” you teased.

Ken chuckled, glancing at the display again and taking another moment to look at the options again. His eyes shifted to the pastries with their delicious golden crust glistening under the light.

“Maybe I should get something messy, then,” he leaned in close to your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper again. “Like…one of those cream puffs with the sweet, sticky filling. I could lick it off your lips.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out an exaggerated gasp, swatting his chest. “Shhh! You can’t say that out here.”

“Why not?” he grinned, voice lacing with his smugness. “No one’s paying attention to us.”

Despite your playful scolding, Ken’s chest swelled with satisfaction and his ego soared.

He was aware that he shouldn’t push things too far, especially in public, but seeing how flustered you were and your stunned expression was too irresistible not to enjoy.

“Still…what if someone was eavesdropping on us.” you said, a hint of caution in your voice as your eyes darted briefly towards the other patrons.

“Then they’ll just hear me flirting. Harmless isn’t it? Doesn’t matter if they know how badly I want to taste the cream puff from your lips.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“What? I can’t tell my girlfriend how badly I want to kiss her?”

“Hmph, just order already.” You crossed your arms with mock indignation.

“Alright I’ll order for us, you go and find us a seat.”

His eyes followed your form as you weaved through the tables, your movement unhurried but purposeful. You found a table in the corner of the cafe that offered both privacy and a clear line of sight to the entrance.

Ken couldn’t help but hold his gaze at you with the cafe’s lighting cast a warm glow over your features.

Dragging his focus back to the task at hand, Ken stepped up to the counter and placed the order— a latte and a slice of cake for himself and a bowl of anmitsu for you.

Ken watched as steam erupted with a high-pitch hiss from the milk frother, the aromatic scent of the coffee mixed with the faint sweetness from the pastries.

The barista poured the milk into the latte cup with grace and precision, creating a delicate foam on top. Besides her, another worker arranged your anmitsu, layering the sweet toppings before placing it alongside with a spoon.

When the tray was finally ready, Ken paid and carefully carried it across the room. The clinking sound of ceramic cups and murmurs of the patrons accompanied his steps.

Setting the tray down on the table with a small smile on his lips, he slid into the seat across from you, feeling the soft cushioned chair beneath him.

Your eyes swept over the content of the tray before landing on the cream puff besides the latte. Your brow arched in disbelief. “Oh my God, you actually got it.”

“I did. Why? Did you think I wouldn’t? You thought I was bluffing?”

“Well, yeah. You’re always bluffing.”

The corner of his lips curled into a smirk at your surprise. Ken pushed your amnitsu closer to you before claiming his own plate. A faint whiff of the dessert’s sweet and rich scent rose to his nose, stirring his anticipation.

Picking up the fork, he scooped a bit of the cream cake and popped it in his mouth. He deliberately closed his eyes and let out an exaggerated, drawn-out moan of pleasure at the taste.

Even with his eyes shut, he could feel your gaze burning into him. He even took it a step further and started licking the cream off his lips.

When he opened his eyes, he found you pulling a face and he couldn’t help but give you a cheeky grin. “It’s delicious, by the way…”

“Hmm, it does look good.”

“Come on…you’ve been staring at it long enough. Have a bite.”

Ken took another spoon full of the dessert before holding it out to you. The moment you leaned in to reach for the spoon, he felt his heart spike and his senses on high alert— taking in every single detail of your action.

His eyes never left your mouth as they parted and closed delicately around the fork. He felt the fork grow lighter as you took the bite.

His focus stayed on your tongue flicking across your upper lip to catch the traces of cream and powdered sugar.

Witnessing it happen in real time was far more tantalising than his imagination— the sight was intoxicating.

He swallowed thickly, forcibly pushing the heat stirring in his chest.

A heat pooled in his gut, seeing you chew on the cake thoughtfully, completely oblivious to the effect you were having on him.

Ken inhaled sharply, trying to ground himself as he reached for a napkin. His hands trembled more than usual as he leaned forward and dapped the corner of your mouth to wipe away the cream you’d missed.

But instead of pulling back after, his thumb lingered, brushing over your lower lip— the same lips he had kissed feverishly in the past. The contact was light and featherlight but enough to make his stomach flip.

You froze under his touch, meeting his gaze. Your lips parted slightly to speak.

“Light and fluffy…”

“Mhm…” Ken hummed, completely distracted. Though he wasn’t sure if he was thinking about the cream puff you just had or the softness of your lips.

“Do you wanna try mine?”

Ken blinked rapidly, snapping out of his trance. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from your lips, the warmth of your skin fading too quickly.

But his attention turned to your bowl of anmitsu, taking in the vibrant layers of fruit, glossy jelly cubes, and the soft mochi balls.

“Sure…looks delicious.”

Taking the spoon you offered, scooped a piece of mochi and fruit from the bowl.

The fruits were cool and refreshing in his mouth, and blended with the mochi which gave a pleasantly chewy texture.

He handed the spoon back to you, still chewing on the mochi. You pushed the fruit and the mochi around in the bowl with the spoon meticulously.

“They put a lot of mochi in this.” you commented.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised.”

You reached for the brown sugar syrup that came with your anmitsu and poured it over the bowl. “Try it now.”

Ken scooped another bite, now coated in the syrup. The sugary bursts mixed with the fruits tang, and he let out a low hum of approval at the sweetness. “Hm…it does taste better.”

“Too sweet?”

“It’s already sweet enough, though I think you’re sweeter.”

“Corny.” you said, dragging out the word to emphasise your disapproval, though the faint smile on your lips betrayed you.

Ken chuckled at your reaction, he knew you were only disguising the effect his words were having on you.

He propped his elbow on the table, leaning his chin against his palm with his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“It’s only corny because you get flustered every time. Did you see your face earlier? When I was talking about the cream puffs?”

You only rolled your eyes at his words, a grin forming on your lips now. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“So, you’re only putting up with me because I’m cute?”

“And maybe because you’re a star player and super rich and whatever.” you replied, twirling the spoon through the anmitsu and waving your hands dismissively.

Ken tilts his head, the back and forth banter bringing a warmth in his chest. Being with you like this— relaxed and unguarded— was a relief in ways he rarely allowed himself to think about.

Having conversations like this with you felt refreshing knowing he would tease and you’ll do it right back.

He tapped his finger against his chin in a mock pensiveness before responding back. “Right, so you’re telling me it's my money and status you’re after, not my dazzling personality or good looks?”

“Oh, that too, I guess.”

“Is that how it’s gonna be, princess? Pretending you don’t secretly like me for more than my money or looks.”

“And what if I said yes?”

“Well,” he said in mock contemplation. “I’d have to work extra hard to win you over. Though I’d say that I'm pretty confident I have a head start.”

“I think you might need to focus on getting on dad’s good side first.”

Something struck inside him at your words— like a whiplash. The mention of your father always hit differently, a reminder of the uneasy dynamic that lingered between them. Ken let out a short sigh, his chest tightening.

It was still a sore spot for him that Shimura initially disapproved of him and his less-than-stellar past behind— though it wasn’t unexpected.

Despite everything Ken had accomplished back in LA— leaving his troubles behind and earning his respect in the field— it seemed his reputation preceded him.

Shimura, along with his teammates, had always treated him like the brash American kid trying to catch up, even though he came back to Japan to prove him among his own people.

With you, however, it was the opposite. You didn’t see him as an outsider or just another player in your dads team. You made him feel like he belonged.

That contrast made moments like these jarring, as if he was living two different lives— one as your boyfriend, and the other as a player constantly trying to win over your father.

Ken’s tone shifted quickly to be more serious, exposing his vulnerability in his words.

“Yeah…I’m trying, princess. It’s just, I don’t want to screw things up and risk not being able to see you again like this.”

Ken took a sip from his latte, the beverage now lukewarm against his tongue, but his mind was elsewhere and far from the cozy warmth of the cafe.

He knew he shouldn’t be dwelling on the ‘what-ifs,’ not when he was on a date with you. But as he sat there, he couldn’t ignore the nagging thoughts that pulled him under. How different would his life be if things had turned out another way?

What if his mother had never taken him to LA? If he’d stayed in Japan, would Shimura still look at him with the faint edge of distrust?

Would he see him different— one who wasn’t marked by a childhood spent feeling like an outcast in a foreign country?

Ken’s jaws clenched. He had spent most of his life in America, trying to fit into a culture that didn’t quite know what to do with him. The bullying had been relentless, the teasing cutting deep in ways he hadn’t fully healed from, leaving the scar of isolation.

Friendships were distant at best. Romantic relationships were practically nonexistent. For a long time, he felt like no one truly saw him.

Even the rise to stardom with the Dodgers hadn’t changed that much. Sure, people admired him, celebrated with him— but it still felt hollow and fragile.

None of it felt real, not like this. Not like you.

He glanced at you across the table, your head down as you inspected your dessert in front of you. If he’d never returned to Japan, he wouldn’t be sitting here right now, sharing this quiet, intimate moment with the only person who truly sees him.

Still, a bitter reminder lingered in the back of his mind. Would he have risen to stardom at all if he hadn’t gone to LA? Despite how brutal it was, the isolation and struggles had shaped him— it made him resilient-driven.

Without those years of grit and loneliness , would he have had the means to lead the Giants to victory? Would he have been ready to take his father’s Ultraman duties when the time came?

Ken sighed again, finishing off the last bite of his cream puff before taking another sip of his latte. It really was strange, the way life worked.

The very things that had made him feel out of place— his complicated family history, his American upbringing, the expectation of following his father’s footsteps— had somehow led him here, with you.

However, the weight of those ‘what-ifs’ still pressed onto his chest. His life with you— a fragile happiness— was precarious. He couldn’t shake the fear that one wrong move could send it all crashing down.

Being caught in the act by your father. It made his throat constrict with anxiety. He already knew that Shimura didn’t trust him. What if that made him believe that he wasn’t good enough for you? That he couldn’t take care of you the way you deserve?

He took another sip from his latte, though it did little to sooth the knot in his chest.

“You know,” you began, not looking up from your bowl as you stirred the syrup into the anmitsu, “being with you makes it easier to forget about everything else.” you said, not looking up from your bowl as you spoke.

Your words caught him off guard, but the tension in his shoulders started to melt. His stunned expression softened, replaced by something gentler.

“Yeah…that’s part of why I like you so much. You make me forget about everything.” His cheeks flushed slightly how openly heartfelt he was now as the words left his mouth, but he didn’t shy away from their weight. “It’s like…you make me want to be a better man.”

He reached out and let his fingers skim across the back of your hand— a subtle touch that carried all his unspoken emotions that he struggled to articulate.

You paused, looking up at him. “I don’t think I can imagine your struggles…especially considering your money and fame overshadow all of that.”

“Everyone thinks that it's easy.” Ken’s lips quivered into a humourless smile. “Being a player admired by thousands. I guess some parts of it are great. But there’s still a lot of stress and pressure.”

He glanced down at the flakes of his cream puff on the empty plate with his thoughts flickering like the steam rising from his latte.

Expectation pulled at him from every corner of Ken’s life— like a massive tree, sprawling yet burdened.

The roots that ran deep were from his fathers influence. They were planted firmly in the soil of his childhood and enchtranched his upbringing and identity.

The roots were unshakable, just like his fathers legacy of being Ultraman— something he was expected to fulfill.

No matter how far he had gone, across the Pacific to LA, he’d never truly escape those roots. Even now they wound tighter around him, tethered to the ground he was expected to nurture.

Then there was the bark— the protective layer. That was Coach Shimura and his teammates. It shielded him from the eternal storms, but it wasn’t invincible. It still demanded so much from the tree itself.

Shimura’s expectations weren’t harsh, but they were heavy and carried their own weight. The bark was strong and steady, but sometimes, it felt like it was tightening. As if holding the tree too firmly in place.

But it was the branch of the tree that weighed him down the most— the fans and the public image. They reached far and wide, growing outwardly. Branches were supposed to flourish.

But how were they expected to grow if you don’t cater to its needs. That’s what it felt like for Ken.

One wrong move; one bad game, and they could snap off. Every game felt like a performance of those branches, trying to keep those intact, making sure they don’t fall under pressure.

But no matter how strong they appeared, Ken knew how easily they could break.

And then there were the leaves, fragile and fleeting— the opinion of the critics, the headlines of papers, the ever-shifting opinions on social media.

Leaves changed with the seasons. One day could be lush and green, full of praises and admiration. The next, they withered and fell, leaving the tree bare and exposed. Their praises were temporary and their critics were choppy.

Though the leaves were less permanent, they still needed care and their loss could hurt the tree entirely. However, Ken couldn’t stop the seasons from changing or the wind from blowing.

Ken swallowed thickly, his eyes glued to the table as his train of thoughts spiraled further. Being that tree sometimes felt like he was stretching thin, trying to meet the demands of every root, branch and leaf.

And then there was you.

You weren’t a part of that endless tree. Not another branch to hold up, nor another leaf to nourish. At least, not yet. But the fear gnawed at him, dark and persistent, whispering at the edges of his mind.

What if you have expectations too?

You hadn’t said much or demanded anything, but it was only natural, wasn’t it? Relationships are always built on unspoken agreements of needs, hopes, and desires.

What kind of boyfriend did you want him to be? What were you looking for in him? Would he ever be enough?

It wasn’t that he doubted your feelings for him. It was the pressure he felt to be the person that you deserved.

To always be charming, supportive, attentive. To make time for you despite his demanding career.

For so much of his life, he had been judged by the outside world— his performance, his persona, his wins, and his losses. The thought of being seen by you that way made his throat tighten.

What if one day, you grew tired of him or wasn’t getting what you wanted from him and left? The thought alone of the empty space you would leave behind broke his heart and made his mouth dry.

It was worse than losing a game, worse than headlines calling him a failure.

Even with the lighthearted conversation and teasing you just shared earlier, his doubts were almost impossible to shrug off.

His mind were a battlefield of his insecurities and worries, but the warmth of your hands that pulled him out of his dark thoughts startled him.

You brought his hand and gently kissed over his knuckles. “Even if things do turn out bad for you, I’ll still think you’re incredible.”

The affectionate gesture unravelled him, nearly spinning him off his axis from being flustered— his mind momentarily going blank.

It wasn’t just the kiss— it was the conviction in your voice. The quiet, unwavering way you said it.

He let out a quiet sigh, his eyes half-lidded as he leaned a little closer to you. The warmth of your kiss still lingered on his hand.

“You always know how to make me feel better.” he murmured, his voice carrying a sincerity he rarely let show.

“You’ll still have all of me, even if you mess up. And I know you’ll do the same.” You brow arched as you added, “Right?”

Ken tilted his head, an amused smirk played on his lips at your remark at the end. The tension in his chest was replaced by fond amusement.

“Of course I will. You think I’d trade you in for someone else?” his voice lowered, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made his next words feel like a vow. “I'm not letting you go princess…not for anything.”

At that moment, the weight of the world seemed distant, as if the noise of expectations and pressure had diluted to a low hum.

He was so focused on looking at you, Ken didn’t notice you sneaking your hands across the table to reach for his coffee mug until you announced it.

“I’m taking a sip from your coffee.” you said, already snatching the cup.

Ken blinked, catching up to the present. “Hey…that’s mine.”

“I don’t have anything to wash down the mochi.”

“Hmm, can’t say no to that.”

Your face scrunched slightly in distaste after you took a sip. “You don’t put sugar in coffee?”

Ken shook his head and chuckled at the face you made. “No…I like the bitterness of the coffee. It’s more enjoyable that way.”

“I suppose the cream puff makes up for the sweetness.”

“No cream puffs for you any time soon if you keep stealing my drinks.”

“I don’t want anymore anyways,” you huffed in feigned offends. “Too bitter.”

“Awh what’s wrong? Can’t handle the taste of something that’s not over-sugared.”

“It’s not that…how do you drink that raw with no sugar?” your nose scrunched in mock indignation.

“I’m just used to it, I like the stronger taste of my coffee.” he glanced down at his coffee mug before looking back at you. “How could you drink something that’s so sweet?”

“It won’t be too sweet. The sugar just cancels out the bitterness.” you said, matter-of-factly.

Ken only rolled his eyes, responding with an exaggerated sweet tone. “Sure, princess. It’s not too sweet…just enough to make it a sugary drink instead of actually having a coffee taste.”

You pushed the mug back to him, waving off his dramatics. It was almost cathartic how the conversation could go from heartfelt and tender to teasing and flirting, like a flip of a switch.

With you, it always felt right, like stepping into the sun after being caught in the rain.

Ken shook his head at your dismissal, lifting the mug to take another sip of the latte. He didn’t mind the bitterness, especially if it meant sharing more moments with you.

Your eyes flickered past him, freezing on something near the cafe entrance.

“Crap.” you muttered.

Ken’s brow furrowed before turning to see where you were looking. Blood rushed in his ear the moment he spotted his teammates walking through the door.

Their presence wasn't loud or disruptive, but rather casual as they made their way towards the counter. The familiar jerseys and laughter sent a jolt of panic through him and a look of slight trepidation crossed his face.

“Crap…” he echoed your words, quickly turning back to you. “I think that’s our queue to leave.”

What were the odds? The cafe was in a quiet area, far from the usual hotspots, and yet here they were. His shoulders stiffened as he scanned the room, trying to gauge if anyone had spotted you.

Ken stood up first, his chair scraped softly against the floor. They weren’t looking in your direction but it was only a matter of time if you both stayed there any longer.

His voice lowered in your ear. “Come on.”

His hands found your wrist, lightly gripping it as he guided you towards the door without being noticed.

“They haven’t seen us, yet.” you said, glancing nervously at the group.

“Let’s not give them the chance.” His voice was barely audible, and his grip on your wrist tightened as you both made it to the door.

The air in the cafe felt heavier with every step. Ken’s pulse quickened and he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder.

The brass of the door handle was cool against Ken’s palm as he pushed it open. The cool breeze brushed against his face, a welcome contrast to the tension that had knotted inside.

The cafe, once a warm refuge that provided comfort, now felt like a minefield— every glance a potential threat.

Ken scanned the area of anybody potentially following you both. The buzz of distant traffic and the rustle leaves were the only signs that greeted you. Once he was satisfied, he let out a loud sigh of relief.

“So, where to now?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“We should probably get off this street and go somewhere else more quiet…and private.”

Ken turned down the corner, his strides confident but unhurried. The two of you emerged into an empty car park bathed in the dim, orange glow of streetlights.

Everything else felt insignificant now, far from the predicament from the cafe or the traffic beyond. Ken led the way toward the far corner, where a sleek bike rested— its polished surface gleaming under the lights.

“Is that your bike?” you gasped, taking in the sigh that was in front of you.

“Yeah, that’s my ride.” The pride was evident in his voice and his expression, seeing the look on your face.

“It’s beautiful.” The genuine awe in your voice sent a ripple through him.

He didn’t say anything, only gave the bike a fond pat before throwing his leg over it and settling into the seat.

“You up for a quick cruise?”

“You sure?”

“Of course. Have you ever been on one?”

“No….” you admitted sheepishly, your eyes darted to the floor out of shyness. He felt a hint of his male ego spike at that, his eyes roaming at your figure.

“Well,” he said, shifting forward on the seat to give you room. “I guess I’ll be your first ride, then. Hop on— I’ll take care of you.”

You hesitated for a moment, your hands brushing against the cool leather of the seat.

“Have you ever had a woman ride behind you before?” you asked. Ken didn’t miss the flicker of doubt in your voice

His hands tightened on the handlebar, looking back at you. It wasn’t the question that threw him off but the way you asked it.

He recognised the insecurity, the way it slipped out almost against your own will. And it hit him harder than expected.

The idea that you might think he was the type to collect fleeting connections and one night stands stung.

“Of course not.” His voice was steady, stripped of its usual tease. “You’re the only one I’d ever want to give a ride to.

You let out a small, nervous laugh at that. “I guess I’ll be your first, too.”

Ken chuckled, patting the seat behind him. “Damn right you will be.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but making you feel secure in this moment felt more important than anything else.

Ken’s joyrides were something sacred— his personal retreat from the noise and chaos. The familiar rumble of the engine had always been his companion, a constant source of solace.

It wasn’t something shared with anyone. Ever.

But now, as you stood next to the leather seat, it struck him how different this felt. Letting you into this part of his life was like cracking open a private door, one he’d never let anybody step into.

The thrill of it sent a flutter through him, both exhilarating and unnerving.

You finally took your seat behind him, and the shift in weight sent a wave of awareness through him. He swallowed hard when it suddenly hit him how close you were behind him.

Then your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and he felt his nerves spike. The heat of your fingertips grazed his abdomen sent little sparks of electricity through his body.

It wasn’t fear he was feeling but an intensity he wasn’t prepared for.

He let out a shallow breath as he felt your body pressed even closer. The sight of you behind him in the side mirror was enough to draw in a quick breath.

With a flick of the kill switch, the bike roared to life beneath him. The vibration and the sound broke the stillness, carrying you both out of the car park and into the Tokyo streets at an incredible speed.

The neon glow of the city painted streaks of light across the dark streets, and the hum of the traffic blurred in the background.

It was just you and him with the quiet rhythm of your trust that kept him grounded.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @despacito-uwu16 @roserfz27

[astralis-ortus]

.𖥔˚ masterlist

game for two ⋆ husband!bc × gn!reader | 0.8k | fluff — guess who just got his old yearbook in the mail?

love, am i home? ⋆ bestfriend!bc × gn!reader | 0.6k | angst — how can you tell it's not simply an infatuation?

sunday, sunday, sunday ⋆ husband!bc × fem!reader | 1.1k | fluff — now, and every sundays to ever come. i want to spend them all with you.

ways to say 'i love you' ⋆ a bang chan headcanon | 0.6k | fluff — an awkward phrase for him, so he resorts to showing his affection instead.

streetlights and warm nights ⋆ a bang chan headcanon | 0.5k | fluff — date nights are always fun with chan.

weighted blankets and projector ⋆ a bang chan headcanon | 0.6k | fluff — as long as you're happy, then chan is happy too.

aisle 4 ⋆ ex!bc × gn!reader | 0.5k | angst — i could give you my all and it still wouldn’t be enough.

it feels impossible (it's not impossible) ⋆ bestfriend!bc × gn!reader | 2k | romcom, fluff — 'cause you are the one i was meant to find.

everything will be okay ⋆ a bang chan headcanon | 0.4k | hurt/comfort — everyone deserves a chan in their lifes.

safe with me ⋆ boyfriend!bc × gn!reader | 0.7k | fluff — there’s a reason you shouldn’t (or should?) trust minho.

against the world ⋆ boyfriend!bc × fem!reader | 2k | angst, fluff — for as long as i love you.

placebo effect ⋆ boyfriend!bc × fem!reader | 1.2k | fluff — maybe the actual remedy is his smile.

this lifetime ⋆ a bang chan headcanon | 0.3k | fluff — in every dream and any reality, as long as you're by my side.

just 5 minutes ⋆ husband!bc × gn!reader | 0.4k | fluff — spend every morning with you.

tiny bed ⋆ husband!bc × gn!reader | 0.3k | fluff — spacious home sounds nice, but you're nicer.

beyond forever and eternity ⋆ husband!bc × fem!reader | 0.8k | fluff — love cannot survive on luck alone.

agent(s) of chaos ⋆ boyfriend!bc × gn!reader | 1.1k | fluff — there's a reason why you love game nights with your boyfriend's second family.

you're always enough ⋆ boyfriend!bc × fem!reader | 2.3k | angst, fluff — losing you was not an option.

care for you �� boyfriend!bc × gn!reader | 1.1k | fluff — to keep you safe is my priority.

thunders of rage ⋆ boyfriend!bc × gn!reader | 1.1k | fluff, comfort — even through the worst days, you're still my priority.

a little sweet fix ⋆ boyfriend!bc × gn!reader | 0.9k | comfort — sometimes what you thought was right might not be the best way.

you are my sunshine ⋆ a bang chan headcanon | 0.6k | slice of life, fluff — you'll never know, dear, how much i love you.

every version of you ⋆ a bang chan headcanon | 0.4k | slice of life, fluff — time could heal everything; as long as you're willing to work for it.

lifetime worth of luck ⋆ husband!bc × gn!reader | 0.3k | fluff — omelet with fries for dinner, anyone?

don't ask ⋆ 'friend'!bc × gn!reader | 0.4k | angst — pushing me further, pulling me closer, some sort of chemistry.

gummy bears ⋆ college student!hj × gn!reader | 1.8k | fluff — art school is hard—at least having a muse makes it a little easier.

spoiled ⋆ boyfriend!bc × gn!reader | 0.5k | slice of life, fluff — it really is in the little things he does.

when it's less-than-ideal ⋆ boyfriend!bc × gn!reader | 0.9k | comfort — you can't judge a relationship only based on its good days.

guess i missed you too much ⋆ boyfriend!bc × fem!reader | 1.2k | fluff — that's what being in love does to you.

don't like me less ⋆ boyfriend!bc × gn!reader | 1.3k | comfort, fluff — even when i'm not everything you wanted, please don't like me less.

i'll keep you in a photograph ⋆ crush!sm × fem!reader | 2.5k | romance — it's just a silly little crush.

form of affection ⋆ boyfriend!bc × fem!reader | 0.8k | fluff — everything feels… new.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[theoneandonlycoralinejones]

Some General Ericson's Kids Headcannons

Louis

Despite it being the zombie apocalypse, he still takes a great care in his appearance. Maybe this could be tied back to his insecurities, but he generally just finds comfort in looking nice. He kept a few colognes from before, and maybe even still has a few hair products. Of course he’d had to be resourceful to make them last this long, probably pours water into the almost empty cologne bottles to make them last longer. He also just dislikes being dirty in general, always wiping down his clothes and typically taking breaks to freshen up. 

He wants to keep the artistic spirit alive, even in the apocalypse, and he really admires people who feel the same. Everyone knows he loves piano, but when somebody actually shows interest in it he can't help but get giddy. He can ramble about musicians and songs for hours and hours and hours, and if you ever found him some new records or sheet music you'd officially be his new favorite person; ever.

Definitely was an only child; his parents put all of their focus on him, watched his every move. He was expected to get good grades, go to a good college, get a hard well-paying job afterwards. He was definitely spoiled money-wise, but his family lacked in the love and affection department. 

Violet

I’d like to think that if she ever got the chance to, she’d try to give herself a piercing. Obviously it’d be unsanitary and sort of implausible during the apocalypse, but if you think about it, all she’d need would be a needle, the piercing itself, and some sort of disinfectant, so it could possibly happen. If she did get one, probably an eyebrow piercing or a septum. She definitely isn’t the type to care too much about her appearance, but she would feel super cool having a piercing. (She wouldn’t say it though, lol)

Violet lacked any sort of hobby in the game, and this upset me. (Ruby has gardening/being a nurse, Louis has music, Tenn has art, Mitch has weapons, Omar has cooking, Aasim has writing, etc.) I feel like if she had a hobby it'd be something she'd do in secret, maybe poetry or writing songs. She definitely is the type of person to bottle her emotions up, so writing poems about it would definitely be a nice way to cope with them. She’d never share her poetry with anyone though, it's just her thing; she's way too embarrassed of it. 

If she was able to listen to any music she would definitely like indie or punk music. (Pavement, she would LOVE pavement) She’s definitely the type of person to crush on more alternative people, so I could see her trying to get into goth music just to impress a girl she likes. 

Marlon

It's obvious that he's definitely got some hefty mental issues going on, he's the type of person to bottle things up forever till he just blows up. He panics a lot in tough situations, scrambles to fix things himself, but has a hard time making things work out alone. I'd imagine his parents were probably perfectionists of some sort; who pushed a lifestyle he didn't want onto him and he tried hard to succeed for them but could never be enough. Eventually one day he acted out, sick of being forced to live a life he didn't want to live, and then was sent to Ericsons's.

A lot of people hate Marlon, for reasons that are obvious, but I really don't think he was a bad guy. He was simply misguided, and made mistakes. 

Seems like the type to smoke or drink as a way to cope. Did it more often before the apocalypse and when it first started but cigarettes and alcohol are pretty much nonexistent near Ericson’s now so he was forced to quit. 

Mitch

I see many people sort of stereotype Mitch as just this guy who likes carving knives and making bombs, which definitely is true, but I think there’s much more to him. He has a very rebellious personality which leads me to believe he probably grew up in a home where being rebellious was necessary to get any attention from his neglectful parents. They are in the boarding school for a reason, so he probably was the type of kid that almost burnt down his house or something.

Definitely seems like the type to be a big softie once you get to know him. Certainly not the type to be all soft in public, but if you're spending time one on one his more gentle side will show. 

Ruby 

She has such a motherly vibe to her, so caring and sweet. Even hands out some tough love when needed. I think that's one of the reasons why she likes the greenhouse so much, she loves to take care of things; plants included. (Obviously she also liked it because of Ms. Martin, but yk)

She's certainly not the type to accept compliments easily, she just can't imagine that when people compliment her they're telling the truth. I'd imagine that the reason she punches Aasim If you dare him to kiss her is because she thinks he's playing a prank on her or something; she just finds it hard to believe that somebody would like her. (I love her, Ruby is my bae omg)

[lady-ashfade]

The Sketch Of Sin.

Astarion Ancunín x Artist!Reader Drabble

I have not played the game yet so forgive if I get anything wrong, this is just based off of the things I have seen.

Warnings; Suggestive, Teasing, me just being a simp, s*xual themes, just him being him.

Astarion has always allured people in on his looks, his past making it known he was attractive. The cocky man says so many times just how hot he is and how he could have anyone on their knees. But...He often wonders what he actually looks like. It's been forever since he’s actually saw himself in the reflection that he forgot what he truly looked like.

Days after fighting and traveling through the world, wounds and brushes covered your body as you ache from exhaustion. The arts are what you relax with in your tent to take the worlds weight off your shoulders. Many sketches, of the many views you have encountered over the months or people you surround yourself with filled the thick pages. You tried to keep it hidden from others of the talent you possessed, so you hid the book underneath your pillow.

Of course, it didn't stay hidden with astarion visiting your tent. He had a urge to visit you and he did just that, needing to see his pet that made him very happy. Much to his disappointment you were no where in sight. A sigh left his lips and walks towards your bed to await for your arrival. He threw himself of the bed and crossed his feet, smirking as he thought of your sweet face being surprised.

His hand reached underneath the pillow to give him some support but something hard hit his skin. Frowning his brows in confusion he took ahold of the object and pulled it out, a book now resting in his hands. "What is this?" He asked with a amused tone, hoping it was a diary of some sort. Astarion was impatient as he yanks the book open waiting to see the words written but non met his eyes, only scratches.

Beautiful artwork.

His amusement turned to awe at the thought of you being this talented. He looked through the pages and remembered each place you had drawn, but your eyes saw them in a much brighter light. Then he saw the companions he worked with, all of them smiling and in heavy details. He was sucked in and couldn't take his eyes away from the book, you were magnificent.

His fingers turned the page and he was met with someone so familiar yet unknowing. With each detail he took in he began to realize it was him he was looking at, more pretty then he remembered. Was this what he looked like? Or, was this how you saw him? His chest filled with confidence and pride.

He heard the flapping sound of the tent opening and he looked up to see you, his pretty little pet. Your face widen in surprise for a moment and then to the book in his hands, him loving every second. You had not a clue of what to do. "Darling, come and sit." He leaned up to pat the place next to him.

"What do you have?" You asked taking a few steps forward and he could tell they were slowed and hesitated. He chuckled, taking his eyes away from you and back to the book. "Clearly something you don't want me to have." His smirk only grew as you huffed and crossed your arms, glaring at him.

“Don't be that way, you left it all alone- Not even a good hiding spot. Tsk tsk, thought you'd know better.” You flushed and hopped onto the bed to take it from him, but failed miserably. His arm pushed you back and his other holding the book away from you. His laugh filled the tent and warmed your ears, but not taking you away from the embarrassing moment.

"Give it back.” You demanded. A thin line on your lips as your eyes dimmed down, along with the brows above meeting them halfway. “And way would I do that?" He was having too much fun messing with you by the sound in his voice. He was teasing you.

"Come on, it's private and I want it-" stopping your sentence he pressed his lips to yours and grabbed ahold on your chin with two fingers. As mad as you were at him... His affection was never worth giving up. He pulled away only a inch from your lips and breaths against them, "You captured me quite well, my darling pet."

The compliment made your cheeks feel warm and body tempered rise up at the praise. He was aware of the effects he had on you, even the slightest of ways. His hands meet your chest and push you back onto the bed, his body moving away from you and off the bed. You mumbled in confusion but he shh'd you.

"I want to pose for the next one." You watch him undo the shirt he had on ever so slowly then push it above his head. No matter how many times you see his body it always leaves you wanting more, to worship the ground he walks on. He eyes found yours as he reached just below the top of his pants, a glint of mischief shining in his pupils.

"Think you can handle that, little pet?"

[charlie-lec-stories]

The Socca Fiasco // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Charles feels like he doesn't do enough compared to his partners so he decides to make a traditional Monaco dish for them. What could go wrong?

Warnings: None, just Charles being adorable and two curse words.

Author’s Note: This is a story that it's actually part of a sort of series. Little story time: A few years ago a friend of mine got into a polyamorous relationship with a girl and a boy. He motivated me to add this relationship concept to a longer story I wrote. Since I've never been in one, I decided to write short stories with a domestic vibe to practice and get more comfortable with how to write the dynamics of such relationships as accurately as I can. This is where this comes from. All of the Charles x Max x Y/N stories are part of the same universe, you could say, like they are all stories about different situations the three of them go through. I hope you all like some domestic Lestappen x Y/N. Rate: PG

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It was a tradition for them to have Max make Stroopwafel for breakfast, it was the dutch's way of showing affection, since he wasn't exactly expressive with words or romantic gestures on a daily basis. He would usually wake up earlier than Charles and Y/N, having been always a morning person, and take command of the kitchen to make sure his parters had a good breakfast. "It's the most important meal of the day", he always said whenever the other two refused to eat in the morning. Charles was the worst when it came to food, he would always complain that eating so early made his stomach feel funny and that he needed some time before he could actually eat something. Max came up with a plan, to make sure Charles would eat, he would make something Charles liked for breakfast, that way the monegasque would never refuse to eat in the morning ever again. His plan worked, and with the addition of the Stroopwafel to their breakfast menu, Charles started to eat every morning without making a single complain. That's how the tradition started and Max loved it, he felt like he could tell his partners he loved them, without having to actually say it, something that made him feel kind of awkward.

To the breakfast tradition a new ritual was added when Y/N started to cook a traditional dish from her country every Sunday. She had traveled back to her parents house for a few days and noticed that she actually missed those Sunday family gatherings that used to occur every week when she was younger. Her family would spent the whole day together, playing board games, watching movies and listening to music. The point of Family Sunday was to create wonderful moments together to remember forever. And she remembered them all with love. With that nostalgia settled in her heart, she decided that she wanted to keep that tradition alive with her new family. Every weekend she would buy everything she needed to make the meal and dedicate the Sunday morning to cooking. Charles and Max had their own roles, Charles taking care of the getting all the board games they had in the house and setting up the table, while Max was the one that prepared the brewages and picked the movie or vinyl that would play in the background. Family Sundays were their favorites because they could manage to celebrate them anywhere in the world, all they needed was a grill for the food, some board game and music. If it was race weekend, they had dinner and if it was a free weekend, they had lunch. They spent some Family Sundays in hotel rooms, simply cooking their meal in the hospitality of Red Bull or Ferrari and then taking it to the room to eat it together. Y/N really liked those moments, it made her feel like they were officially family.

Charles, at some point, started to feel like he wasn't doing enough. Max made breakfast, Y/N made Family Sunday meal and he was always enjoying what they made instead of doing something for them. He wanted to do something, he wanted to give them as much as they gave him. He wanted them to know that he loves them. With this idea in mind, he tried to cook pasta a few times, but it didn't end up well. Max had ended up banning him from the kitchen because he was sure that Charles would burn the apartment down. Pasta was off the table and it was the only thing that Charles knew how to cook, even if he didn't do it well. He expressed this concern to his brothers, who instead of giving him some cooking ideas, suggested him to just simply express his affection with other actions. Charles refused, he wanted to make something and he was going to do it.

"I'm just so bad at this, Maman". He complained to his mother on the phone. "I mean, Y/N isn't that good, but at least she can pull something off! I'm not asking to cook as good as Max, I just want to do something right". His mother could hear the stress in his voice. She actually believed that Charles didn't need to cook anything for his partners, they already knew that he loves them and that he shows that love through different methods. Still, she decided to please her son's wishes.

"Okay Charles, I'll send you a recipe for Socca. It's an easy dish and you'll have no problem making it". Charles' spirits lifted quickly. "It's beginners level of complexity. You'll be fine"

"Thank you, Maman! You're the best. I love you!".

It was summer break and Charles had been practicing the recipe for three months. He did it at the Ferrari hospitality every week and it was his most sacred secret. He wanted it to be a surprise so Y/N and Max couldn't know about it. It took Charles a lot of effort to hide his cooking practices, but he was finally ready to cook Socca at home. His skill with the dish had improved a lot, he had to admit that the first ones he made were so bad he couldn't even eat them. His younger brother, Arthur, even gagged when he tried a piece once.

"Charles, if you feed them this, you'll end up single". The younger Leclerc said as he spit the food in the bin.

"Oh Lord. 'How to loose not one but two lovers in one go'. I can see that Buzzfeed article". Charles glared at Lorenzo, his older brother, who was laughing at Charles poor attempt of Socca while he threw that comment.

But, his Socca upgraded since then and while Max and Y/N were out for a jog, Charles told them that he wasn't feeling like running and stayed home. He had an hour until they were back, more than enough time to cook and surprise them. Only four ingredients were needed: Chickpea flour, water, extra-virgin olive oil and sea salt. Once he had everything on top of the kitchen island, he started to mix everything in a bowl. He whisked until there were no lumps in the mix and then set a timer to let the batter soak for thirty minutes. The oven at home was nothing like the one he used to practice with so he had a few set backs when trying to turn it on, but he finally did it and then placed the pan inside to make sure it'll preheated before pouring the batter on it. In the meantime, his mother called to know what plans they had for that weekend. Charles loved talking to his mother so he sat comfortably on the couch and proceeded to tell her all of his summer break plans while he waited for the batter to soak. After a few minutes, he went to the kitchen for a glass of water and when he looked at the kitchen counter he noticed that the timer wasn't working. Slightly panicked, he took the phone away from his ear and check the time of the call. He had been talking to his mother for twenty minutes and before that he had trouble with the oven, but how long did that took him? He didn't know. It was quite a struggle, maybe it actually took him another ten minutes. With a rushed apology and a promise to call later, he hung up and decided to concentrate on his task.

"Well, I'm sure that has to be ready". He said to himself. Sighing, he opened the oven to take the pan out, he forgot to grab a kitchen towel and ended up burning his right hand. An instant hiss left his lips and he dropped the pan. "Putain!". Charles cursed under his breath, he grabbed the kitchen towel and picked up the pan again. A lot more stressed than he expected to be when he started cooking, he poured the batter on the pan, put it inside the oven and closed it. Twenty minutes later, Max frowned the moment he set a foot inside the apartment, turning towards Y/N who was looking at him with the same expression. There was a funny smell coming from the kitchen and he knew that it wasn't good sign. Keeping Y/N behind him he walked into the living room area, Charles was nowhere to be seen, but his singing was in the air, clearly coming from the bedroom. Max went straight to the kitchen while Y/N went to the bedroom to look for Charles. She was about to turn on the light of the hallway when Max yelled from the kitchen.

"Schat, don't touch anything!". Charles peaked his head through the bedroom door and his eyes met with Y/N's, they smiled lovingly at each other, but Max's dutch curse words quickly caught their attention. Charles jogged to her side and pecked her lips as a silent greeting while the two walked to the kitchen.

"Max, what's wrong?". Y/N asked while the dutchman opened the kitchen window as wide as he could. "Did you find the source of that smell?"

"It's the oven, it was leaking gas". He looked at Charles. "Charlie, you turned on the gas but never lit it up".

"No! I did, I swear!". Max shook his head.

"Don't turn on any light, let's just open all the windows and let the wind from outside renovate the air". Charles went to the living room and sat on the couch, huffing and with a frown on his face.

"I don't get it!". Y/N sat next to him and grabbed his hand. "I lit it up".

"Sometimes closing the door to harsh or an object hitting the oven can kill the pilot light". She explained. Charles remembered the pan he dropped.

"I am stupid!". He said, his accent thick. "I dropped the pan when I burned my hand. That must have done it".

"You burned your hand!?". Max and Y/N asked worried, Max running to stand in front of him and checking on his hands.

"It's nothing". Charles assured them, embarrassment filling his chest. Max kept looking at his hands anyways. There was a small red mark on his right palm. Y/N went to the bathroom and grabbed a lotion for burns from the first aid kit. She gently ran in over Charles' palm, him letting out a sigh of content at the cool sensation against his burned skin. "I am stupid".

"You're not stupid, don't say that". Max looked at him sternly, he hated when Charles called himself that.

"But I am! It took me three months to learn how to do the easiest dish in Monaco, which already proves how useless I am, just for me to fuck it up when I finally try to do it for you!". He was pissed so the other two left him get it all out. "You always cook for me and I can't even make a fucking Socca for you, I just wanted you guys to feel like I love you... I suck".

"We do feel like you love us, Charlie". Y/N said as she caressed his arm. "We know that you love us".

"But I never do anything for you". Charles said looking at his lap.

"That's not true". Max sat criss-crossed on the floor in front of Charles. "You always try to cheer us up when we have a bad day, and you always know what we need without having to say it. I think that's something important to add to a relationship".

"That's right". Y/N agreed. "Who cares if you can't cook? You still took the time to learn how to do it just for us. You spent three months learning something that it's hard for you all to make us happy". She ran her hands through Charles' hair and he looked at her. "That makes me feel really loved".

"You mean it?". Charles asked looking between the other two. They nodded eagerly.

"We do". Max's voice assured him quietly. Charles smiled.

Maybe Charles was doing more than he thought.

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Well, I hope you like this one!

[skitskatdacat63]

Happy 5/14!!!!

Aaaaahh not sure if this is my best work 😭 I just really wanted to draw smth for vettonso day but my brain hasn't really been functioning well LOL so I kept dreading working on this, especially bcs its so important to me, y'know? I hope it's good????? I'm happy with the concept, but I was just so unsure on so many of the angles and it was killing me. I did the color thing bcs I thought it'd add something interesting to it :) since I didn't paint it as I usually would

Anyways! Process!

Now I will explain all of them:

Boy king au is where it all starts of course. I think their relationship is the most developed in this compared to the others, but at the same point, they just start from such a different point, especially affection-wise. All of these kinda have a power dynamic, except the last one, and this is the most imbalanced. Fernando is being subservient, the only part of Seb he may kiss(in public lol) is his hand.

Matador au next. They hurt themselves when they try to be affectionate, because they live in the culture of a sport of violence and death. The sword separates them, their love for the sport keeps them apart, in fear that they hurt each other. Seb, yet again, looks down upon Fernando. Seb haunts Fernando's whole career, the constant overhanging presence. Also aside from that, shame that you can't see his three musketeers look bcs of the black background 😔

2012 core!!! I think this one is pretty easy to understand. Both of them often kiss their trophies, more so than any driver. So they're both trying to claim the wdc trophy by kissing it. Maybe you guys should just get rid of the trophy altogether and claim each other! But yes, just like the sword in the matador au one, the trophy and their ambitions divides, keeps them from ever bridging the vast gap between them, at least at that point in time.

The conclusion! Aka what I wish we will get at Imola 2024- kidding kidding. But it is 2024. Finally there is no conflict between them, there's no big thing keeping them in conflict, they can finally come together. Finally they can touch, there is no gap to bridge, they can appreciate each other, and appreciate what they failed to in years past.

The thesis is basically that they always have their aspirations between them, and their aspirations happen to be basically the same thing. Until those are resolved, the gap between them is too vast for them to recognize and/or find any commonality. How do you get along with someone when you're both fighting for the same thing? How do you get along when it feels like one of you is winning more? How do you get along when there's such a vast gap?

In boy king au, it's going to take a while before they both feel settled about the issue of the throne. That's what makes that au interesting, they're trapped in this state of non-closure and they have to actually solve their issues without the matter of one of them simply removing themselves from the equation. They have to find a way to get over themselves and their aspirations, because like it or not they're stuck with each other. I think with the hand kissing, it represents how Fernando, at that point, is only willing to play along with the game if it's tradition, and he often won't budge in other ways. Yes, I will show subservience, but only in this detached, formal way that I don't connect personally to. He's still holding his own bitterness over meaningfully appreciating Seb. Though it's not like Seb isn't at fault. It takes a while for him to not hold things over Fernando, and constantly humiliate him. One day they will meaningfully show affection, and it won't be some sort of power play.

I think matador au is pretty similar to real life, and the 2010s era(it's basically just their actual plot line but in the context of bullfighting.) They're forever going to have this big elephant in the room, and it only really gets resolved when one of them leaves the sport. Once they're not fighting directly against each other, they realize what they've been missing out on and what they were not appreciating for so many years beforehand. They finally come together because they can't just rely anymore on the sport keeping them together. They actually have to make that step to be in each other's lives, rather than just taking their presence for granted.

Also the text on the comic. "We keep missing, and missing, and missing, and finally kissing." It's basically: we keep missing the point of it all, we keep failing to appreciate each other presence in our lives and in our own individual grand stories. But when we're not forced together anymore, we have to make the choice to come together again ourselves. We keep missing what we actually need to do. Missing each other in favor of our aspirations. Etc etc. One day we will finally embrace and there will be nothing keeping us apart.

[leelesbo]

so this may be a bit of an odd request lol. im not personally into tickeling, but my partner is. i find it really attractive how into it he is, and am super willing to participate for him, but as hes into the lee and ler sides of it, sometimes when im taking the ler role, i sort of run out of ideas on what to say and do LOL. it doesnt come naturally to me like you all who actually Do have the fetish. i basically just picked your blog randomly cause we're the same age and you seem to have experience with it and i dont think he follows you already, but i was hoping you could offer some advice or ideas on good things to say and do that may not be obvious? i'd ask him but he gets so flustered over it that its basically impossible HDFJKGKDFHGL

this is the cutest sweetest ask omfg i would LOVE to help out. i love yapping about tickling you came to the right person (this turned out to be really long so it’s all under the cut LMFAO)

so for teasing, a lot of the times it really depends on Who you’re teasing!! for instance, im not personally a huge fan of the whole “coochie coochie coo” “tickle tickle tickle” thing bc its just Way too babyish and infantile for me, but ive found a lot of people in this community really like it and it flusters them a lot!!! if youre unsure, typical teases like that couldn’t hurt to try!

ok i said “tickle tickle tickle” didnt work on me but Actually in the right context that absolutely could work bc the simple act of Hearing The Word is insanely flustering. fr, if you just keep repeating how ticklish he is, asking if something tickles, maybe even figure out a way to force Him to say the word it should work. there’s smth about knismos where our brain overloads hearing that word and it’s even so hard to say, it’s extremely flustering being forced to say it!!

also, focusing on spots and Talking about how that particular spot is affecting them is killer. if you’re tickling his ribs and it’s making him giggle more than belly-laugh, point that out!!! “oh you really like the ribs, don’t you? you’re giggling so much you can’t even talk! try! go on, tell me how much it tickles!” for me and a lot of other knismos, tickling is a lot about feeling Analyzed. experiment with specific spots and see how differently it affects him. verbally take notes on the differences!

also, emphasize how much he’s enjoying it even if/when he’s Begging for you to stop or move spots. knismos love to pretend we hate it, it adds to the fun of the whole thing. but don’t ONLY emphasize that he’s enjoying it, also throw in how horrible it must be!! how he’s too ticklish to take it, how it must be so bad if he’s screaming for mercy.

(i literally keep thinking of new things to add this is going to be so long sorry)

AND AND AND!!! POINT OUT HOW FLUSTERED HE IS!! how red his face has gotten, how he keeps repeating the same thing over and over bc his brain is fuzzy and he can’t Speak Properly, maybe he can’t figure out what to do with his hands, or he keeps trying to hide his face! LET HIM KNOW U CAN SEE EVERY LITTLE REACTION!!! it’s about the attention to detail babyyyy

tickle teasing can also go beyond the actual Act of tickling. tease him when you aren’t even tickling him!! wiggle your fingers his way, throw the word in casual conversation (“what you said earlier really tickled me”), poke him when ur out in public!! little things :3

when you Are tickling him, make him tell you what spots tickle more. make him help you! maybe choose two spots at a time, tickle one spot and then the other, and make him tell you which was worse (this ofc will take Many trials and retests juuuust to be sure he was right the first time 😌). use different methods and make him choose which is worse! hands or teeth? feathers or raspberries? the list can go on and on and you’ll both be sure to have a lot of fun testing out the varieties of the game lol

okay so i could literally keep going FOREVER but ill stop here for now bc ive already written a fucking essay!!! if you want more i’d be elated to go again, my brain is constantly on Tickle Mode so im always happy to yap about it!!

anyway, hope this helped!! hope you guys have fun, im happy to be of service :3

[yuri-is-online]

omg... we talk about yuu here?? we love yuu here???

I could talk about yuu forever, they're infinitely more interesting than any of the boys to me (not sorry). I know for a lot of people yuu is just kind of their pawn for this epic fantasy world and they don't even think about the ramifications, but me personally I would descend into insanity if I got isekai'd into magical teenage boy hell. deep down I know this freak is traumatized to the nines and likely severely depressed.

one of the most important things about yuu's character is that they feel helpless. they can't perform magic in a world that's almost completely reliant on it, for one. as you've pointed out, they have no true autonomy. they have no government documentation, no family, nowhere to go, hell, they're not even a full student. they have no real hope of going home, and most of the nrc boys don't even seem to particularly care about that (if anything, I assume a lot of them would selfishly want yuu to stay, regardless of yuu's own wishes). the rules of this world are still unclear to them, and people don't really seem to acknowledge that.

can you imagine how lonely that existence would be? sure, people like yuu. they have friends. but as you've pointed out, no one (with the exception of adeuce, maybe) really seems to care about how things effect them specifically. yuu is manipulated, exploited, physically hurt and almost killed like, a bunch of times, bullied, harassed, and on top of everything, completely helpless to it. despite having friends who supposedly care about them, no one really seems to think about yuu's feelings on magic and the multiple life-threatening incidents they've experienced in their short time at nrc. as someone who has ptsd, I can't imagine that yuu would walk out of all that completely mentally unscathed.

as you've pointed out before, yuu is treated like any other student. their experiences and circumstances are never really taken into consideration, and they're expected to just... go along with things like everyone else. sure, equality is nice, but that doesn't really help yuu's case. yes, realistically, yuu is not totally helpless but good lord someone needs to help them out. someone needs to empathize with them, and defend them, and at least try a little to help them navigate this terrifying reality they've been expected to... just adjust to with no help. with their lack of autonomy, they're pretty much at the complete mercy of the people around them. yuu is lonely and I stand by that.

and on top of all of this, they have a massive amount of responsibility dumped on them constantly. yuu is a sort of mediator. they solve problems, usually ones that other people create, and never really by their own will. they arguably live in pretty shitty conditions and have no way of making money. they have to not only babysit grim (bless him tho), but also literally everyone else, while also trying to keep their own shit together. I mean, they're still technically a student. and a mini-housewarden. and crowley's errand runner. and they just got here a few months ago. psh.

yuu feels helpless, but they aren't treated as such, and so no one really extends a helping hand without ulterior motives. as much as ace and deuce want to help, they're also teenage boys and have their own tiny worlds to attend to. while people can be nice, no one seems to really want to understand, or care, about yuu's mental health.

anyway. I love the boys but in my heart I know that my yuu wouldn't be able to handle all that. me irl already deals with feelings of loneliness and crushing responsibility and misunderstanding and helplessness. twst is not a choose your own adventure type game and the tiny choices yuu gets to make don't really affect the story (which is oddly symbolic).

but like, listen. if I was zapped to another universe where I'm completely alone at a school full of teenage boys, most of which who couldn't care less if I lived or died, and one day I was sent on a trip to a city that painfully reminded me of home and some catholic-coded freak started being really considerate and empathetic to me for no other reason besides just liking me and genuinely being appalled at my circumstances, I would help him destroy magic. idc. I wouldn't even think twice about it. I stand by the idea that rollo feels some kind of affection for yuu. this would affect all of the diasomnia book because I would literally not want to leave and they'd have to drag me out of fleur city screaming and crying and clawing at the floor. poor malleus would be crushed.

anyway. haven't caught up to diasomnia yet so I may be way off. feel free to answer this or not! sorry for my weird english byebye!! love your posts

Yes we talk about Yuu here! They're the goat and I am so sorry I took forever to respond to your ask! Your English is wonderful you just had so much to say I had to really think on it σ(￣、￣=)

>deep down I know this freak is traumatized to the nines and likely severely depressed.

I think this is a very reasonable assumption to make about Yuu. While how well they take being isekaid to "magical teenage boy hell" (that's such a funny way to put it) is something up to each player's interpretation I like to write Yuu as being prone to bouts of longing for their own world, if for nothing else than wanting to feel something familiar to them. Which you point out in the rest of your ask!

I think one of the reasons people loved Rollo so much is that he was finally someone who acknowledged all those little things about Yuu's situation that we wanted to see talked about. He is someone we can realistically sympathizing with Yuu's situation and would treat them with a degree of care the other boys might not notice they needed. I have... played around with some AU stuff for him in my spare time and the conclusion I have come to is that I think he would try to avoid asking for Yuu to help him in his plan to destroy magic. He wouldn't want them to be implicated, and his plan is a sort of personal penance for his inability to save his brother. The idea that someone would want to help him, let alone someone as perfect as Yuu, isn't really something that would cross his mind. Besides, I don't think he would trust Yuu to help him immediately, he doesn't know them all that well at the start of GloMas.

Mental health tends not to be something focused on in isekai stories. I do think that our limited choices (i agree it is fittingly symbolic) have shown a Yuu who is slowly starting to feel the lack of control they have over their situation and are starting to feel stress over it. Ace says that he wants Yuu to be able to go home, as does Deuce, but I do think they both would be equally as happy if Yuu got to stay. They enjoy their friendship and love them a lot, if the story happened in more of a vacuum I could see both Ace and Deuce picking up on Yuu needing the extra support, but with how many things have happened over our school year they haven't had much time to sit and think to themselves about... much of anything really. But that doesn't exclude Yuu from feelings of loneliness or isolation; some of the most painful types of both is when you are surrounded to people and yet still feel unable to scream.

As for Malleus... well these aren't Diasomnia spoilers but if I understand his platinum jacket card correctly he can't stand seeing other people be happy when he isn't so. If Yuu were genuinely happy in Fleur City and he was left alone... oh he'd be so unhappy about that he would be beyond crushed.

[auriidae]

more of these guys :] (part 1) (part 2)

classpect thoughts under cut! yippee

these absolute fools gave me SO much trouble. i changed each of their classes and/or aspects like twice while drawing this lmao.

pearle was going to be a rage player initially! i had her down as one for the chaos — yknow, ‘red’s my favorite color’ and all that. but the catch ended up being that in this au, as rage represents in-game chaos and bloodlust, it only exists while the game is in effect, and so rage players don’t have much dominion over stuff that happens after that period ends (which has all sorts of delightful implications for grienn’s character, but anyways). meanwhile pearle definitely continues playing and also grows as a character even in times of peace. i was thinking in terms of comparing her arc in double life to secret life in particular — ‘she left the tower’ and all that, yknow? she went from being terribly isolated and functioning on a completely independent scale, winning only for herself, to being a key member of a team and finding a purpose in helping them. which is pretty incredibly space-coded, in my mind! my personal qualification for space players is that they’re destined to be lonely, often physically separated in some way from others, for a while but not forever — because space is about creation, after all. and if you look at being a witch from the perspective of reinvention — what pearle manipulated or reinvented here was herself. she found her place in the story and the person she wanted to be. witches are also some of the most powerful characters in terms of specifically manipulating their aspect, i think, which is great because i’ve heard she's pretty great at pvp lol

ignore that martyn’s color palette is not particularly great it’s hard to unify the design of a character who is super rustblood-coded but also inextricably linked to the colors green and yellow of all things. i’ll redesign him later. anyways! at first i had thought there might not be any light players in this session — since light is about sort of seeing through the laws of the game and often deliberately defying them, as well as having a certain degree of control over narrative agency due to this. and because, yknow, the life series is a minecraft youtube roleplay series, realistically the ccs aren’t going to be playing any characters that go out of their way to completely ruin the game or refuse to play it by the rules altogether. but then i started thinking — and i don’t know an awful lot about martyn’s character so forgive me if i’m going a little bit off the rails here — does martyn want to understand? because if he as a character tries to understand and affect his destiny even though he’s ultimately limited by the nature of the story itself, then he could totally be a light player. so that’s where i was coming from here. think about how he won limited life in the end, for instance — not by playing into what the game itself had been leading up to, but by acting on and finishing his own story. he’s a knight because i do think knights are a certified Narrative’s Little Guy class — they persevere through so much pressure and often also have that sort of dual persona thing, both of which are particularly endearing to an audience. it’s hard work, keeping up with the narrative and fulfilling his own quest for understanding while he’s at it!! but he does it!!

renn is Such a blood player guys he is such a blood player ohhh my goodness. playing the game in terms of your relationships with others, right? basing how you go about it on allies and interactions, and being a leader above all else? i’d say that’s pretty ren the dog coded tbh. i don’t have too much to say here because i think seer of blood renn is pretty self-explanatory — he sees the entire game as a game of relationships and ties. he has a lot of knowledge about this field specifically, and shares it with his allies in the way he helps direct them and keep them alive. the reason he’s blood instead of light is because he puts his allies over knowledge, i think — he’s far too busy dealing with all that stuff to speculate for too long what the purpose of it all might be, and that would detract from his goal (of winning alongside others or dying nobly), anyway.

again questions abt them are open forever always :3

[maybeimamuppet]

for the au ask game… had to think really hard for this one but—

how do you think things would be different if regina didn’t get hit by that bus??

<3, sunny

send me an au and i’ll tell you about it!!! it was supposed to be five facts about it but i like to yap

ALRIGHT i’ve been thinking about this one for like three days i am not in a space to answer this well but this sitting in my inbox is haunting me so i’m gonna go for it lol

i think the easiest way is to sort of go through and say how i think things would be different for each characterrrrr??? we’ll see lol

to start with, overall, regina getting bussed is sort of the catalyst for everything coming back together. it both is and is not the climax depending on which characters journey you’re focusing on.

for example, regina getting hit is what makes her soften. it gives her a chance to step back and realize she doesn’t want to die being the kind of person she was. it’s what kickstarts her (at least supposed) redemption arc. we never actually see that happen but it is strongly implied at spring fling. without the bus, i like to think she still would’ve come to her senses eventually. but it’s entirely possible that she wouldn’t. or maybe she wouldn’t until they’re all in their thirties or forties or fifties or god knows when.

for janis, that means she’s left with this leftover, hardened, jaded middle school trauma to eat away at her forever. she’s already cynical and, again, jaded. she’s already affected by it. already needed significant therapy. already is made mean and manipulative and vengeful by it.

for janis i see her track going one of two ways. she either manages to heal on her own, realizing regina will never give her the closure she needs and so desperately wants. she gets more therapy, works on herself. develops strategies and learns how to identify the damaging thoughts rooted in this trauma and cope with them and turn them into something healthy. she really falls into her art and educates herself and makes herself into something wonderful with all the broken pieces.

OR she continues down the path of manipulation and anger and spirals. she tries but can never commit to anything serious, be it jobs or relationships or whatever. she has a long string of failed experiences with both. damian is the only thing keeping her away from living under a bridge and dying of some sort of overdose.

for cady, regina getting hit is the beginning of the end for her. it’s the moment the ivory pedestal everyone has had her on shatters and she falls back to their level. she’s hit hard, but again, it leads her to important self reflections and realizations. we get to see more of her redemption, like taking the fall for the burn book and getting to apologize to ms. norbury and janis and damian, along with her speech during stars.

without that, again, i see her going one of two ways. she continues as she is. nobody dares to bring up that she’s just a clone put in regina’s place. she’s queen of the school and she loves it. she has power but no depth. she and janis and damian never speak again. gretchen and karen follow her exclusively out of fear. aaron still wants next to nothing to do with her. she has no deep, genuine connections with anyone for however long it lasts, whether she keeps it going through college and into the rest of her life or whether it ends at graduation. either way, the effects linger with her and she struggles to form genuine relationships and she lives a very isolated, lonely life.

OR she comes to the realization on her own at some point, whether internally or someone dares to call her out. whether before they graduate or well into her adulthood (similar timeline to regina) and she devotes herself to making amends. similar to janis, she leans hard into academia and channels the drive and the desire to control into becoming very successful. she still worries that she hasn’t actually been forgiven and works extra hard to keep her friends and other loved ones close.

for gretchen, the potential of losing her “boss” is what sparks her realizing she has much more power and worth and value than she thinks. with just how anxious and sheeplike her character is in canon i find it hard to believe she would ever truly come to this realization on her own. i think she’d come close with a lot of therapy and self-esteem work, but i think having one, concrete, solid moment to shock her into it is vital for who she becomes as an adult. it’s what prompts her and karen to drop cady and learn how to do their own thing.

if regina had never been hit i see her basically just continuing as she is. following cady or eventually returning to regina and doing her bidding. maybe someday she’d get fed up and realize she deserves more and better, or maybe not.

for karen i think a lot of the same things as gretchen. she and gretchen are sort of a tag team, so i think they go through and would go through a lot of the same things. i think karen has a little more oomph but doesn’t quite know how to use it or know whether she should. i think she’s much more likely to eventually leave cady or regina’s side on her own and realize how poorly she’s been treated for however long. and who knows, maybe that would be enough for gretchen to go too. i think she does know in canon that she deserves better but she stays because it’s safer. so maybe at some point she decides it’s not worth it.

for regina i think it’s. pretty obvious lol. she has her whole downfall which i think had the opposite effect to the bus. i think that on its own would make her FUUUUURIOUS. i think she would become vengeful and vindictive and bitter and sullen and try and try again to snatch the crown back from cady. no matter what it takes, and i have no idea whether she’d ever succeed. again, i like to think that at some point, eventually, she’d work on herself and make amends and become a better person, but i think dying scared her more than they can show in a movie/musical that isn’t about her. i think, again, it’s a catalyst for changing and becoming a better person. and i think it takes time, and that’s why i’m glad the bus happened when it did because it GIVES her that time to do whatever she can and what she needs to do to apologize and improve while she still is surrounded by the same people she hurt the most.

she either is One Of Those Rich People (really angry but good at their job lawyer or corporate bitch everyone beneath her hates or some shit) or she does make an improvement and makes some genuine friends and maybe has some relationships that benefit all parties. or maybe both!!

in conclusion, as horrible as it is, i think the bus needs to happen when it does and i think the strife and the weird healing it brings is BEYOND necessary holy shit. i think it almost single handedly shapes who they all become as adults and the way they connect with each other and other people around them, and i’m very glad we got the canon we did :)

but make them lesbians

[lumiambrose]

Blue lock matchup for @i-am-so-strange

I ship you with...

Michael Kaiser

So I’m going to be honest; this is one of those matchups where I thought of Kaiser since the beginning and my brain refused to think of anyone else.

So Kaiser it is.

Maybe it’s because I see you in one another that I’m so compelled to match you two together.

The tendency to look down on others and be straightforward compliments Kaiser. Both of you holding yourself to a standard and not being willing to settle for less is very respectable.

You both also have a tendency to keep everyone at arm's length. Of course I believe in due time that you will open up to each other, but the buildup takes forever.

If you couldn’t guess already, slowburn. Such a long slowburn, but the wait is worthwhile with Kaiser.

It’s hard to imagine who would make the first move between both of you, but ultimately I’d have to imagine you taking the step. I can imagine the straight neutral look on your face as you ask for his number. He thought you were funny and decided to give it to you.

If he is one to want a relationship, I can picture him being very loyal. He wants to protect what little he has left to himself. And if you’re part of it, he will treasure you dearly.

Heavy on the acts of service. I refuse to believe that Kaiser can express his emotions, especially love, since this would be his first time experiencing it. So he makes up for where he lacks with small acts that might not mean much at first, but mean way more than words could ever say to him.

Quality time too. Being in your presence is calming to him and I expect he has the same effect on you. It’s not like you have to actively be doing something with him. You could be playing a game and he could be reading, it’s all the same to him aslong as you’re by his side.

I feel like you would try to get him into whatever manga you’re reading and he would hate it (supposedly). 9/10 times you’re met with a no and that’s that. But what you don’t know is that he’ll read up on the manga in private, learning all the nitty details and characters so that on the 1/10 chance that he agrees, he can bitch and complain about it being “too predictable”, which leads to the two of you fangirling about the manga.

Call him out on his fangirling and he will start pouting.

That being said, of course he’ll fund your manga and nendroid collection. (Unless you want nendroids of other blue lock stars, then cue more pouting)

One key moment that I can imagine between the two of you is you coming home from a shopping trip with your girlfriends and instantly fangirling about this new nendroid you got, only to reveal that it’s of him. Spending the rest of the day giving it all your attention as you clear out space to display the mini him. (bare with me i know nendroid kaiser doesn’t exist yet)

Now Kaiser isn’t particularly clingy, but giving a figurine of him more attention than the actual him? Unforgivable. Poor boy goes through the five stages of grief all to ultimately start clinging to you, begging for your affection.

Which is how you ended up having one of the best cuddle sessions since. (+ obtained some nice information ;) )

You mentioned that you like receiving gifts. You’re in luck. For his partner, Kaiser would spend his entire salary if it means seeing you smile. It’s become routine to see your boyfriend come home after a long day with any sort of gift in his hand. Most of the time, it ironically isn’t anything over the top, maybe a pretty bouquet of flowers, you’re favourite cake from your local bakery, or the next volume of your manga. But that’s all so he can savour your reaction when he goes all out.

Typically saves the more grand gifts for dates or special occasions. Always so neatly decorated and wrapped for you to discover. These type of gifts typically range from jewellery to designer clothes, bags, shoes or even vacations.

He loves seeing you in fancy, “corporate” clothes, so you bet he’ll be funding most of them.

“I saw these shoes and thought they would look good with the suit you wore yesterday.”

Or “This bag really matches your vibe.” Those type of excuses.

Honestly, it’s more that he likes the contrast of your ever so formal business outfits and your dark purple hair. It feels so… you.

Aesthetically, the two of you compliment each other nicely. And Kaiser will match his warderobe to match yours. Having his fair share of lavish suits and smart fashion whilst still having a collection of hoodies and loungewear which he swears gets smaller by the day…. wonder why?

That being said, he does like seeing you in his clothes. Makes you feel more his. In general, he’s very uptight on protecting what he has, and seeing you in his clothes just reminds him how precious you are to him.

On a more challenging side, during the beginning of your relationship, you’re bound to encounter plenty of miscommunication. Whilst you may be straightforwards, Kaiser lacks the words to express his emotions, which can result in arguments.

They don’t typically last long, both of you can suck it up and apologise, although verbal apologies from Kaiser are seldom. When apologising, he’ll do something like leaving a note on your bedside table if he has to leave for work before you wake up, paired with some pretty flowers.

I feel like with your help he does learn to express his emotions verbally in due time, but that takes a good few years. He’s never had anyone teaching him etiquette so it’s an astranged topic for him. He finds it slightly off-putting, but if it’s you, he’s willing to try.

The “I hate everyone but you” type of boyfriend.

“analysing media texts is also my hobby lol” Lucky for you, he fucks with that, hard. We all know Kaiser enjoys learning about psychology so I headcanon on a lazy weekend, when both of you have nothing to do, simply pulling out a laptop and scrolling through social media. Hypothesising and debating with each other on whatever topics you may come by.

Also more of a personal headcanon, but Kaiser sucks at cooking. I mean, yes, he can cook, but it’s not like he ever had access to recipies and proper ingredients as a child and once he joined BM, they provided all his food anyways. Between the two of you, you definitely do more cooking, though that doesn’t stop him from lending a helping hand when he can.

His big arms snaking around you whilst you’re preparing dinner to whisper into your ear. “Kann ich helfen, mein Schatz?” (don’t quote me on this. german is my second language and DEFINITELY not my best)

Have fun cooking with an attention hungry dog following you around.

Though this man is a fast learner. Give him a few months and he’ll be cooking you five course meals. Or even cook together with you.

You two definitely try cooking something new at least once every week. He also takes you out to try new food too once every week.

Dates are a must. Need I say more? This man has money and wants to flaunt you so you better be ready for it.

Whilst he typically opts to take you out for dinner, sometimes he’ll have other things planned in mind.

His favourite date to this day is when he once took you to a football field and taught you how to play. Or tried to.

Even though you failed multiple times and almost backed out, he found it adorable, going through all of this for him. He’s a good teacher though, so once you accepted your mistakes you definitely learnt a thing or two.

Pretends to be a crazy fan when you try his Kaiser impact and score a goal.

The date would’ve been perfect if you didn’t get jumped by a group of kids near the evening. After endulging them for a bit the two of you snuck away and just proceeded to sit there and laugh together.

I’m so not jealous…

[flowersandbirdsflyingfree]

ive read a couple of your recent posts about postal dudes, and im literally just thrilled with them! i would also like to participate in such an initiative.

i am a very tall girl, which is why i have a small complex. i have dark skin and a rather elongated face and the corners of my eyes are lowered, so many people tell me that i look like a borzaya x) i have long hair about up to my buttocks, they are blonde dyed. i have a pair of piercings – a nose wing and a bridge. i have dark eyes. i rarely do makeup, and if i do, i usually paint my lips black and put black eyeliner on my eyes.

speaking of clothing style, i prefer something ordinary, i cant name a specific style, for example, some kind of black t-shirt and jeans extended from the knees, something like 80s fashion lol.

by nature, i can hardly describe myself, but i have a low awareness of responsibility for my actions due to a diagnosed antisocial personality disorder. i also quite like sarcastic jokes and banter, i am pleased when my jokes are understood and not offended. i dont see any special criteria for my partner, i just would be pleased if he sincerely loved me and didnt look at anyone other than me, unfortunately, due to unsuccessful experiences in the past, i sometimes get a feeling of jealousy.

I also love Tarantino movies and my favorite band the prodigy

HELLO!! I’m so happy you could join in! I’m actually having fun myself because Postal is forever engraved into my brain!!!

I match you with:

Postal 2 Dude

Well, for starters, a lot of your interests match with his! Dude likes Tarantino films as well. His favorite if he had to choose would probably be Pulp Fiction. His favorite movie of all time, however, is Brian De Palma’s Scarface. Movie night dates are a great way for you to bond. Plus, he doesn’t have to stress if he puts something on that will push the envelope in terms of content

Your fashion sense sort of matches Dude’s so you guys look like you’re twinning! I think he likes 80s fashion. And he definitely thinks your blonde hair is really pretty. You know he finds every bit of you to be beautiful the way he gazes on with deep affection.

Dude feels like your struggles are very similar to his. He too tends to just act first, think later. It’s not fun to live with the consequences. But he lets you know you aren’t taking on life alone. He’s a ride or die kind of person. He won’t waste his time with people who aren’t in the long haul and by God you’re his partner in crime.

He knows how it feels to be betrayed. Hell, most of these jackasses are out to eat you alive! In his philosophy at least. Rest assured, if you earn the Dude’s trust, his loyalty is stronger than tungsten. “I can’t believe someone who lose a babe like you. You don’t have to worry about me going anywhere, dear.” Also… imagine his situation. His ex-wife left him for a Jewish mad cow demon. He gets it.

Despite his usually abrasive personality, he loves you. And he will show it in the best way he can. Banter is a love language, so the fact you can keep up with his sarcasm is good. Nothing offends him because he believes everyone should get roasted in some way. This includes being offensive to strangers on purpose for rage-bait. How else do you handle the daily grind?

He’s big on acts of service too. Do you want him to pick something up at the drive-thru? He’ll get you a treat. Is there an annoying errand you dread doing? Put it on his yoke and let him do it. You’re worth all the effort.

Another love language is definitely quality time. He’ll have his arm around you wherever you two go. You can blast The Prodigy while night driving around and seeing where the night takes you both. Maybe you two could go for a diner date, or maybe you’ll just kiss under the desert stars. Or maybe cause trouble at one of Uncle Dave’s parties. Anything’s fair game!

I can also imagine you guys going to a Best Buy in the mall and cranking the most obnoxious music on high blare with the test speakers. You high tail out of there before you get kicked out. Dude’s final trouble is grabbing the intercom phone and yelling “Mike Hunt to the register! Mike Hunt!”

Life is rough but you make it so much better. Over time, he loosens his tense nature. You’ve helped him tremendously with that. He will be all tough in façade but he truly is grateful you can handle him and his bullshit. Dude can’t believe you showed him he can even feel real love. All he wants is to be by your side. Just you, Champ and maybe Uncle Dave. That’s all he’ll ever need.