#this is one of those times i regret not being good at drawing

[embracing-the-ineffable]

Breaking the Silence, posted by Neil Gaiman at 10:20 AM (1/14/25)

I haven't had a chance to process this yet, but NG has posted on his website:

Text below the cut if you don't want to follow the link (And a reminder to everyone, please be radically fucking kind to everyone as they process this in their own ways):

"Over the past many months, I have watched the stories circulating the internet about me with horror and dismay. I’ve stayed quiet until now, both out of respect for the people who were sharing their stories and out of a desire not to draw even more attention to a lot of misinformation. I've always tried to be a private person, and felt increasingly that social media was the wrong place to talk about important personal matters. I've now reached the point where I feel that I should say something.

As I read through this latest collection of accounts, there are moments I half-recognise and moments I don’t, descriptions of things that happened sitting beside things that emphatically did not happen. I’m far from a perfect person, but I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone. Ever. 

I went back to read the messages I exchanged with the women around and following the occasions that have subsequently been reported as being abusive. These messages read now as they did when I received them – of two people enjoying entirely consensual sexual relationships and wanting to see one another again. At the time I was in those relationships, they seemed positive and happy on both sides.

And I also realise, looking through them, years later, that I could have and should have done so much better. I was emotionally unavailable while being sexually available, self-focused and not as thoughtful as I could or should have been. I was obviously careless with people's hearts and feelings, and that's something that I really, deeply regret. It was selfish of me. I was caught up in my own story and I ignored other people's.

I’ve spent some months now taking a long, hard look at who I have been and how I have made people feel. 

Like most of us, I’m learning, and I'm trying to do the work needed, and I know that that's not an overnight process. I hope that with the help of good people, I'll continue to grow. I understand that not everyone will believe me or even care what I say but I’ll be doing the work anyway, for myself, my family and the people I love. I will be doing my very best to deserve their trust, as well as the trust of my readers.

At the same time, as I reflect on my past – and as I re-review everything that actually happened as opposed to what is being alleged – I don't accept there was any abuse. To repeat, I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone.

Some of the horrible stories now being told simply never happened, while others have been so distorted from what actually took place that they bear no relationship to reality. I am prepared to take responsibility for any missteps I made. I’m not willing to turn my back on the truth, and I can't accept being described as someone I am not, and cannot and will not admit to doing things I didn't do."

Here's information about yesterday's article, which he's responding to:

And another reminder to everyone, please be radically fucking kind to everyone as they process this in their own ways.

[gyudons]

despicable

updates as of 22 oct

Travis Dermott knew that he would draw attention with his actions in the Coyotes’ home opener against the Anaheim Ducks at Mullett Arena on Saturday. The Arizona defenseman just hoped that the spotlight might shine on the issue that he was addressing, not on him.

“You don’t really want to go against rules that are put in place by your employer, but there’s some people who took some positive things from it,” Dermott said. “That’s kind of what I’m looking to impact.

“You want to have everyone feel included and that’s something that I have felt passionate about for a long time in my career. It’s not like I just just jumped on this train. It’s something that I’ve felt has been lacking in the hockey community for a while. I feel like we need supporters of a movement like this; to have everyone feel included and really to beat home the idea that hockey is for everyone.”

“I won’t lie,” said Dermott, who is playing on a one-year, two-way contract. “From the outside, it’s easy to see that I’m putting my career on the line for something. I definitely went through some emotional ups and downs that night, not regretting anything by any means, but I’d love to have maybe done a couple of steps a little different by making sure that everyone was aware of what was going on before I did it.

“I don’t want to put my teammates or my coaches or my GMs or the equipment managers in any kind of bad light when it’s their job to kind of look out for something like this happening. It was definitely something that I did just by myself and was prepared to kind of deal with whatever repercussions the league decides to push towards that. I’m not going to back off and say that this battle is won, but we’re going to find better ways to do it.”

As Dermott noted, LGBTQ+ inclusion is an issue that he has supported for a long time. Without getting into specifics, Dermott said the issue is personal for him because it impacts people close to him.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t shed tears about this on multiple occasions,” he said. “So yeah, it’s something I’m definitely very passionate about.

“I’ve met a lot of people that from the outside, it looks like they have everything going right in their life and they have a smile on their face every time they talk to you. But sometimes when we get closer to people and get comfortable enough for them to open up to you, you can see that there’s some pretty dark stuff happening to some good people. It doesn’t take too many times encountering something like that for it to really change someone.

“I’ve been blessed to have some of those opportunities put in front of me to really change my view of what being a good person means; what being a good father and a good example and role model means going forward. You really see how people are hurting and it’s because of a system that maybe no one’s intentionally trying to be malicious about, but until you’ve really had that first-person experience seeing people hurting from it right in front of you, it’s tough to kind of take steps.”

It would be a surprise if the league handed down any sort of punishment. The optics alone would add to the public relations damage that the original ban created. Even so, Dermott reiterated his desire to bring the entire franchise into the fold before he takes similar actions in the future, but he also made it clear that he will not be silenced on the topic.

“It’s not like I’m shutting up and going away,” he said. “I know more questions are going to be coming. We’re just going to be as prepared as we can be to just spread love. That’s the thing. It’s gay pride that we’re talking about, but it could be men’s health. It could be any war. It’s just wanting world peace. Everyone’s got to love each other a little bit more.

“Like my parents said growing up, ‘How awesome would it be to be the guy that people look up to?’ That’s what really hit home when I was a kid, especially from my mom. You want to grow up and be that guy. You want to be the guy that’s having the impact on kids like NHL players had on you. If they had been racist or bigoted, that’s going to have an effect on you.

“With how many eyes are on us, especially with the young kids coming up in the new generation, you want to put as much positive love into their brain as you can. You want them to see that it’s not just being taught or coming from maybe their parents at home. They need to see it in the public eye for it to really make an effect.”

[luveline]

omg can I request a more timid luna lovegood reader with remus lupin?? I feel like he’s more serious, so she would compliment him well!! maybe the two of them falling asleep with one another and her dozing off while talking about bugs or something and he’s just like, wow I love her!!

“Oh,” he says quietly, more to himself than you as he pulls you to his chest, “lovely, I missed you.” 

Your pyjamas are made of a soft, thin material you favour and he can’t name. Your vest doesn’t cover much, but he’s covered you up with his arms and the blanket, and the space between you is roiling with body heat. “We were apart for twelve days.” 

“I know.” He could not be more regretful. 

“That’s almost three hundred hours without seeing one another.” 

“We spoke on the phone.” 

“It’s not the same,” you say. Remus would have to agree. 

He feels like he can sleep well for the first time in those three hundred hours, knowing you’re alright, happy, and fed within arm’s reach. He really can’t decide what he missed most, your smell, your hair, your nose as it rubs against his throat. It must’ve been this, your weight on his side, and the sound of your voice as you murmur intricacies into his skin. 

“I caught fifteen bugs while you were gone, that’s more than one every day… I kept the ladybug, but then she exploded into even more ladybugs. I noticed she laid eggs in the tank but I wasn’t expecting them to hatch so quickly… it was…” Your lips curve into a smile against his neck. “It was only a few days, baby. So many bugs.” 

“I’m sure she lived a very good life.” 

“She’s still alive, I think. I let them out into the back garden, I wasn’t expecting to be responsible for so many.” 

You fold an arm across his chest and kiss his chin, to his sleepy delight. Your presence is lulling him to sleep, once slow sentence at a time. “I’m sure she was just as happy in your tank as the outdoors, lovely,” he says. Your tank being a very large space that you customise to whatever bug you’ve found. You do your research, and you give them long, healthy lives. You’re kind, and you keep them only to watch them and love them. 

“You know ladybugs are beetles?” you whisper. 

“I didn’t know that.” 

“Mm-hm,” —you kiss his chin again, soft and with warming breath— “there are five thousand different species of ladybugs. Thousand. And they’re all different colours and sizes and…” 

You rub your nose into his cheek.

“I missed you so much,” you say. 

“I missed you too. I missed your voice.” Remus rubs your back, feels your top ride up. He draws a line along your naked spine. “Tell me more about the ladybugs, please? I was almost sleeping.”

“If I tell you and you fall asleep, you won’t remember.” 

“Can you tell me again at breakfast? Would that be okay?” 

You sound pretty sleepy yourself as you answer. “Okay, I’ll tell you twice, but only because you asked me so nicely.” 

Wow, he thinks, feeling the length of your back in sluggish drags, I love her.  

[hihomeghere]

Dreams | Arthur Morgan/Reader

Word Count : 1.1k Summary : Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you Warnings/tags : Cursing, fluff, mention of infidelity, just Arthur being a sweet guy <3

He knows he shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t be having these thoughts, because all they are just dreams. They’re never going to become a reality. Not when they’re constantly on the move, running from place to place. He sees the way it affects Jack, poor kid, not knowing what the hell is going on. And his daddy doesn’t exactly help him understand. 

He can’t even say he would be a better father, he wasn’t before. 

Hell you two ain’t even married yet, and he’s not that much of a fool. Not anymore. His regret for not marrying Eliza weighs heavily on him most days, even if he didn’t love her in that way. Now you on the other hand, he loves you more than anything. More than this stupid gang, more than life itself. He would happily lay down his life if he knew you would be happy, safe. 

When these thoughts enter his head, he can’t say. His days sort of blend together, making it hard to pinpoint. Although seeing you interact with Jack doesn’t help. 

You are so sweet, so motherly, hell you even mother the younger folks in the gang. Soft touches, kind words, but internally strong. You have all the qualities he finds attractive in a woman. Somehow you fell for him just as hard as he fell for you. 

But he ain’t a fool, he knows this ain’t the right time or place. So instead he writes down all these dreams in his journal, his safe place. The place where he can say anything without being judged. He dreams of little girls, he didn’t know how to interact with Isaac. Too afraid of being his own father. Girls seem less daunting, and a little you would be perfect. He already has one angel, what’s one more?

He comes up with the name while north of Brandywine Drop. The bright purple flowers caught his eye just off the trail.

Violet.

Violet Beatrice Morgan.

His heart sings, scribbling the name down in the margins of his journal. He finds himself writing VM in his journal, smiling foolishly to himself. It’s beautiful, his precious flower. 

It’s not like you meant to snoop. You were looking for Arthur, since he was nowhere to be found. You entered his tent, which in reality wasn’t much of a tent at all, finding his journal open. You walked over to it, looking over the worn page. There were the normal doodles he drew, along with his flowing hand writing. But one thing stood out to you, a pair of initials circled by hearts. VM.

You furrowed your brows, you couldn’t think of anyone you knew with the initials VM. Those definitely weren’t your initials either. 

With your curiosity peaked you flipped through a couple more pages. VM was written everywhere, along with those damn little hearts. 

You felt that little green monster grow inside you the further you looked into his journal. Biting your cheek so hard you could taste blood. It did nothing to quench the fire inside of you. 

“Darlin?” Arthur called walking into the so-called tent. You dropped the journal back onto the table, turning to face him. “There you are.” He grinned walking towards you.

“Here I am.” You said forcing a smile.

“Hosea said you were looking for me.” He said softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Anything you need?”

“Must have forgot.” You said with a noncommittal shrug, “I ought to get back to work.” You nod walking past him. Arthur furrowed his brow at your attitude. Did he say something to offend you?

Then his eyes fall onto his open journal. His stomach drops at the sight. Jesus, you saw. You saw all of it. You were probably thinking the worst, seeing the initial surrounded by hearts. How was he gonna fix this?

You stomped off to the edge of camp, trying to wrack your brain as to who this VM could be. And why was Arthur drawing hearts beside the initials? Maybe you had this all wrong, Arthur would never do anything to hurt you. He was a good man, a man you could trust. Wasn't he?

“Y/n!” He called trailing behind you, a crestfallen expression on his face. You stopped at the tree lining, biting your lip as you turned to face him. “I can explain.”

“I’m sure you can.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I-“ He sighed looking down, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a low curse. 

“Who is she?” You asked clenching your jaw. He furrowed his brows looking up at you.

“What?” He asked, his hands settling on his hips.

“VM, the girl you keep drawing hearts around. Who is she?” You were blunt, something he loved so much. Always telling it like it is, never leaving him to guess your feelings. A small smile spread on his face, which only made you more mad. “Seriously, you think this is funny?” You hissed, taking a step towards him. Arthur only had one choice, to tell you the truth. 

“Violet.” He said softly, reaching for you. “Violet Morgan.” You let him wrap his hand around your forearm, pulling you close to his chest.

“Who is Violet Morgan?” You asked, swallowing thickly. He sighed, looking off to the side, wetting his lips.

“She’s uh-“ He shook his head, a nervous smile on his lips. “She’s not exactly real, not yet at least.” He said. 

You shook your head, brows knitted together, “Not real? The hell you mean, not real?”

“I-“ He rubbed the back of his neck looking down, “It’s uh- shit.”

“Spit it out Morgan.” You huff throwing your arms up. 

“I thought of a name,” He explained, “A name for a girl if we- if we have one some day.” He said with a shrug, his cheeks flushed, almost as though he had been in a scuffle. 

Oh.

If we have one some day. 

“Oh Arthur.” You said softly, a smile spreading across your face. Feeling suddenly very foolish for doubting your man. “That's so sweet.” You took a step forward, tilting his face up to look at you. 

“Yeah?” He asked, looping his fingers in his gun belt. 

“Yeah.” You repeated, nodding. “Jesus you had me scared you were gonna tell me you found someone else.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Never. There ain’t no one else in this goddamn world that could replace you.” He said his hand reached up to cup your face. “You’re uh- you’re it for me darlin.” His bright blue eyes peered into yours, love and affection pouring out in his expression. 

“When we have our girl.” You said brushing away a stray strand of honey brown hair, “Violet will be a perfect name.” He grinned, wrapping a hand around your waist.

“Guess it’s settled then.” He said as he leaned down to press his lips against yours.

[inklore]

just a taste

premise: meeting luca after work doesn't usually end up with the two of you in an intense lip lock, both of you knowing once you start it's hard to stop. but that's what offices are for, right?

pairing: luca x (f)reader

word count: 3.1k

contents: literally barely any plot here, oral (f rec), unprotected p in v, coming inside, established relationship, doing it at the workplace, teasing, dirty talk, pet names.

note: i know the bare minimum about this man because i’ve never seen the bear but those tattoos, the accent, the hair?? fill me like an eclair is all i have to say ok!

The cool breeze of the night air almost makes you regret not just heading straight home and slipping under the steam of a nice long shower and grabbing the first blanket you see on the sofa and planting yourself there for the rest of the night. Await your boyfriend's arrival under the comfort of cotton and cushion that he’ll surely plop down next to you on after he’s kicked off his shoes. His cold fingers finding you under the blanket to pull you close to his side, a string of kisses pressed along the side of your neck before finding your lips. The smell of yeast and sugar—embedded in his skin at this point—making you bury your nose into his collarbone. 

But this was a ritual for the both of you. 

You finishing your studies and then meeting him after work. 

The two of you walking home together, barely making it through the threshold of your place before lips and clothes were being pressed together and thrown to the floor. Luca’s soft laugh at needing to shower. Thus always leading to your face pressed into the wall of the shower and Luca’s fingers digging into your hips as he thrust inside of you. 

So that nibble of regret doesn’t last long when you come to a stop in front of his work. The makings of anticipation pull at the corner of your mouth as you grab your phone from your bag and start to text him to let him know you’re out front. 

A text that’s barely on the last word when the breeze of the door is hitting you and making you look up, ��you can go in. He's in the back.” a co-worker you’ve met a dozen times, but his name slips your mind as you give him an appreciative smile and thank him as you slip through the doors as he walks out. 

You could enter the kitchen a dozen times—a million, a billion—your nose filling with that sweet aroma, Luca bent over a table, a dish, fingers deep in a ball of dough, the monochromatic uniform making his tattoos stand out on his skin like the most beautiful canvas, and you’d never get over the view. 

Over how your insides react when you see him in his element.

See him doing what he loves. 

It’s like the first time every time. 

Just like the first time he dragged you into the kitchen after your tenth date. Showing you his own version of paradise. His love. His joy. The way his face lit up when your eyes brightened when you bit into the scone he had made—saved—for you. The euphoric sweetness a good dessert can do to one's brainstem is still a scientific mystery to you, but you’d gladly leave the research to the experts if you could experience it forever. 

Taste Luca’s creations forever. 

That memory seems like ages ago. Now well into two years of your relationship. 

Nothing seems to fade with Luca. 

Your first times feeling just as tortuous to your fluttering insides as the tenth or twentieth time around. 

It knocks you off kilter in the best way. 

And when you look over at Luca after dropping off your bag and sweater in an open chair, you can not help but laugh when he finally looks up from cleaning off the surfaces of the metal tables and that stone look of him being in chef mode falls from the creases of his face and his features melt into something soft. 

He doesn’t say anything until his arm is around your midsection, drawing you in. “Hi, beautiful.” He smiles as your lips meet in a long kiss. Kissing you as if he hasn’t seen you in days, as if he has spent the entire day waiting for this moment and this moment alone. “How was your day?” 

“Not as good as it is now,” you tease. Hand in the back of his hair, pulling his mouth back to yours. 

The hum that makes your lips buzz and that lands on your tongue as he backs you up so your back is pressed into the doorframe makes anything you could tell him about what happened in your day lackluster. Incomparable. How could you possibly think of anything worthwhile—how could anything be as worthwhile—as his tongue moving along your bottom lip, his hand at the side of your neck, his thumb rubbing a small circle into your skin? 

It couldn’t.

"Let me finish cleaning up," he smirks. Thumb and pointer reaching for your chin, squeezing it, luring you in for one last kiss before returning to cleaning and leaving you dazed in the doorway.  

And if you didn’t know how seriously Luca takes this, from the ritual of making pastries to maintaining a stern, clean kitchen, you would tell him to hurry. Complaining that it is not fair for him to kiss you like that and then make you wait for him to finish, but the payoff was always worth the wait. And you love Luca’s love for his craft. Love him in this element—watching him and seeing him go into that little part of his brain that makes him go into boss mode. 

The stern gentleness of it all. 

It’s breathtaking to watch.

It’s art.

He’s art. 

So that’s what you do. 

You push off the doorframe and enter further into the kitchen just to watch him. 

“How was your day?” You ask while watching him write on the white board in the corner. 

“Good. We got a new guy who came in.” 

“Is he any good?” 

“Better than he thinks he is.” 

“I bet you brought out his best. You always do.” You smile at him when you watch him shrug off the compliment, not missing the twitch of the corner of his mouth. Ever so modest. 

Wordlessly, he puts the cap back on the marker and sets it against the metal of the board, walking over to one of the refrigerators and pulling out a small bowl of something green and white. 

Something that looks too beautifully crafted to eat, let alone eaten by someone who might not fully understand what went into making something so decadent—something that looks like it would be served to someone with a gold card, not someone who eats boxed mac and cheese for dinner twice a week (which Luca always tries to make fancier than Kraft ever could). 

Luca hands you a spoon, “told him the only critic that mattered was sharing a bed with me.” You make a face, the both of you knowing how outlandish that sounds when the food genius himself is standing in front of you. The critic who mattered to a lot of people more than the girl who was sharing his bed. 

But it still brings a smile to your face. 

“Did he think you were utterly insane for such a statement? I think eating greasy takeout two nights in a row is five star dining.”

He chuckles, “you���re the only critic that matters to me.” His palms come down on the edge of the metal table between you as he leans against it. “The only important one at least. Try it.”

The swoop that runs through you from his words, from his eagerness to hear your thoughts on a dessert you do not even know the name of, but know you will appreciate more than anyone else because it came from someone he admires, makes your cheeks heat up. 

And when it touches your tongue, when that euphoric sweetness overcomes your tastebuds, you don’t think the English dictionary could come in handy with describing the taste. The goodness of it. Compliments, which you know Luca and his fellow chefs have heard many times before and then some. But still bring that artist's joy to their chests when your eyes widen and you look at them in something akin to shock. 

The moan you let out makes him grin.

“Good?”

“Is he single?” 

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” His arms cross over his chest, a playful brow raised.

You take another bite of the dessert, “I think you might want to start looking for another job.”

“And a girlfriend?”

You nod, “with something that tastes this good, I would give him my social security number easily. Oh my god.” You dramatically moan around the spoon, the action doing little to hide the simpering look on your face.

“Here I thought I was the only one who could make you spill such confidential secrets.” Luca strides across the table, coming to stand at your back. His lips pressing against the back of your neck and the top of your shoulder. 

Finding its home where your collarbone meets the junction of your throat, where he lets his warm breath blow against the known sensitivity there, then presses his lips to it. Making your back push into his front, your body melting against him. 

A soft noise lays dormant at the tail end  of your throat, making a ghost of a smirk etch against your skin from his mouth as he murmurs, “and the only one who can make those noises come out of you.”

Your voice is breathy when you say, “so much for being humble.”

"When it’s the truth, I do not need to be humble." His lips trailing to your ear, fingers running up the back of your exposed thighs, pulling up your skirt until they are at the apex of your hip, skating forward and close to your clothed mound. “Am I wrong? Should we see?” 

The spoon in your hand lucky you don’t have superhuman strength because it would be crushed in your grip right now. 

Luca’s fingers splay themselves across your pelvis, toying with the top of your underwear. “Hmm, awfully quiet now. Where’d my mouthy girl go?” An airy chuckle tickles your ear as he lets it out, “humbled are you?” 

There’s a teasing sneer forming on your mouth before it does a 180 and morphs into an ‘o’ as Luca’s fingers push into your underwear, the pad running through the clear as day arousal that’s been making your thighs clench uncomfortably since your kiss in the doorway. 

When the finger moves against your clit there's no covering up the gasps that fall from your lips. Or the way your ass grinds against the erection that’s pressing up against it. 

“Who’s humble now?” He teases. A cheeky grin on his face when he pulls his hand out from your underwear, bringing his finger to his lips and sucking it into his mouth. Making your cheeks heat even more when you turn to look at him. Your teasing turns needy as you give him that look, the one that always makes him drop whatever he is doing and have his body on yours within seconds. 

You both know that making it home now will feel ten times longer. Ten times more agonizing in the cool air with your warming bodies.

With you soaking your underwear and him hard against his zipper. 

So when he says “office”, all you can do is chew on your bottom lip in eagerness as you make a beeline towards it. Luca closer behind you than you expect when you hear the door shut seconds after you’ve entered and his mouth immediately on yours, your ass hoisted onto the nearest surface. 

Luca’s fingers making quick work to pull down your underwear, your skirt bunched at your hips. You fully expect him to pull himself up from his knees after slipping the lace from your ankle and tossing it to the floor. You expect him to come back up and slide inside of you quick and easy, but instead he’s trailing kisses and bites into your thighs. 

Blue eyes look up into yours, and he must see the need in them—that glint that tells him all you want is for him to be inside of you right now. The heady woes of foreplay just torture at this point. 

His teeth sink harder into your flesh, making you gasp. “I’ve worked hard all day; don’t I deserve a treat? A taste of the best dessert out there.” 

And how could you argue with that?

You can’t.

Not when his tongue runs from the bite mark in your skin to your wetness. Spreading you around him as he licks a stripe up your pussy. Your grip on the metal your ass is under hard and tight enough to leave marks against your palm. 

And as crude as it makes you sound, as obscene and cocky as it comes off your lips, you will never hold back from telling Luca that his talent as a chef will never outweigh how good he is with his mouth and cock. 

He’s multi-talented and it’s a blessing and a curse to your insides. 

“Oh, fuck. Luca,” your head hangs between your shoulders. Your fingers in his hair, the heel of your shoe pressed against his back—his apron long gone, leaving him in that navy blue—his fingers digging into the side of your thighs as he keeps you against his mouth. 

The mouth that’s switching between sucking your clit between his lips and rolling his tongue against it. Eating you like you’re the best dessert his tongue has ever had the pleasure of tasting. 

It never takes him long to get you there. To make your chest heave and your nerve endings light up, as if they are about to make you panic from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that is completely taking over your body. 

His fingers have created beautiful, mouth watering food, just as they’ve made you completely lose your mind. Your legs shaking around his head. Your back involuntarily bows until it hits the metal surface of the desk you’re perched on. 

It’s when he slips two fingers inside of you that you completely lose it. The sob that pulls itself from your lungs feels red-hot in your throat as your fingers grip the strands of his blonde hair as you come against his mouth. Your hips riding out your high. Rolling against his tongue in a languid way, drawing out the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

Your body still reeling and alight with that desire-train that still has it wanting more. That heavy ache between your legs that wants to be filled. To be fucked by something bigger and thicker than a finger.

Your mouth comes down on the tabasco tattoo below Luca’s wrist in a gentle kiss, one of your favorites of his, when his hand comes to cup the back of your head to pull you up to him. 

His thumb runs from your cheek to your chin, where he pushes it up, so you’re looking up at him and he’s looking down at you as he stands between your legs. Your nails run along the tattoos along his arms, up his bicep, and to the nape of his neck. A fire burning in his eyes when your fingers run between the strands back there. 

“Tell me,” he says close to your lips. He’s checking in. Seeing if you’re too spent for his cock, seeing if there's more you want. If you want to wait until you get home. If you’re ready for him now. 

“It’d be cruel to not fuck me now.” You say it in a half-tease-half-serious tone. 

“Ooh,” he murmurs against your mouth, his tongue clicking against his teeth. “I don’t want to be cruel.” You can feel his other hand move between the two of you, undoing the button of his pants and messing with the zipper until he’s pulling himself out of them, hard and leaking. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t give my girl what she so desperately needs?” 

Luca smirks when you laugh into his mouth, “the worst kind.”

With one last kiss, lick, and nip at your lower lip, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, making your thighs shake. Nails dig into his skull as he soaks up your oversensitivity to coat himself before going lower and slipping inside of you in one slow, fluid motion. 

Your mouth hung open at the stretch, and your breath caught in your lungs. Your foreheads resting against each other as you let your walls accommodate his girth, both of your breaths heavy. The pounding you can feel between your legs—that you’re not sure is coming from him or you or something more poetic and overwhelming like your conjoined bodies aching as one, like a heartbeat aches for a chest cavity when it’s torn from a body. 

The two of you need this. 

Need each other. 

When Luca starts moving, you know the two of you are both completely fucked. Spent and so full of desire that you know your time in this office is just the start of a long night of tangled limbs and wet mouths. 

The sounds you are making against each other's mouth are breathy and intoxicating. His tongue in your mouth swallows every mewl and moan he coaxes from your body with each stroke of his cock. 

His fingers find the back of your head again, not allowing you to even think about leaving his mouth. 

You think you see stars when his palm finds the back of your thigh and pulls your leg higher on his hips. Think you could let this man completely consume you, and you’d still never be satisfied. Never get over how good it feels to feel his hips drive deeper into you, to feel the head of his cock hit that spot inside of you that makes his name roll off your tongue like a prayer. 

“Who’s pussy is it, baby?” 

"Mm'fuck," you are not sure if he is still playing the game of you leaving him for the new chef or if his filthy mouth is attempting to completely destroy you—which is nothing new when he has you coating and tightening around his cock like this. 

When you say his name, when you whine it into his mouth like a pathetic desperation, the erotic noise that it’s met with makes you cling to him tighter. Makes you press yourself closer to him. The movement makes the outside of his pants grind against your clit. 

“So beautiful,” Luca murmurs. The octave of his voice grows lower and choppy with heavy breaths the closer he gets. Neither of you lasts much longer when his pace picks up. The grip the two of you have on each other is hard and rough, enough to tear and leave marks that you’ll later kiss with gentle lips, unlike the passion that’s coming through with the hard kisses your mouths are giving as you both come. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” He breathes into your mouth, twisting your insides even more. 

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♰ ₥ØĐɆⱤ₦ ĐɆ₥Ø₦₴ ♰

♰ Pairing: slasher!yunho x chubby!fem!slasher fucker!reader

♰ Genre: smut/dark romance/horror

♰ Summary: With a ruthless, brutal killer on the loose the safe thing to do would be to stay as far away from dangerous men as possible. But you've never been the kind of girl to play it safe and when danger comes in the form of a man like Yunho, how's a girl to stay away?

♰ Word Count: 3.4k-ish

♰ Warnings: Yunho's a literal serial killer, neither of you die but someone does, sorta vivid description of a limb being chopped off, voyeruism in a way, slasher fetish, sadism, masochism, dom daddy Yunho, choking, restriction of movement, a lil nipple play, penetrative sex, sex covered in blood, dirty talk, scratching, hickeys, other forms of marking, creampie, manhandling, pet names (baby, princess, good girl), you're both kinda psychos...obviously.

♰ A/N: I'd like to say, "Oh, I wrote this because Halloween is coming up!" but, no, I didn't. I'm just a slasher fucker, okay? A part of this was inspired by one of my favorite horror movies and if you can guess it then let's get married. Love you forever.

On a side note, thank you @dawn-iscozy for suggesting Yunho for this. I didn't regret that decision for a solitary minute.

There’s a killer on the loose. A brutal, wicked man who stalks the night preying upon unsuspecting victims. Some say he only goes after those he perceives as having done something wrong. His own perverse way of balancing the scales, righting the wrongs that the cops don’t have the balls to fix.

Others say it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. Your chances of being butchered are all the same, sinner or saint. One thing’s for sure, once he has his sights set on you not even god himself can save you from the fate that awaits. You’re gone in the blink of an eye, never to be seen again. At least not in one piece. 

You’ve heard the warnings a thousand times over but none of them struck fear into your heart. On the contrary, you have quite the erotic fascination with his art as he calls it in the letters he leaves behind. There’s something about what he does that taps into a fetish for danger that you dare not tell another living soul about. You want to play with fire, scorch the tips of your fingers in his flames. That’s how you ended up here, straddling the lap of a man who claims to be the killer your sick little heart yearns for. 

You met at a club. The kind where people go to indulge their wildest fantasies, no matter how depraved. You were wandering around alone in a tight latex mini dress that fit the richness of your curves like a glove. You had your hair pinned up the way you do now, waterfalls of curls spilling down to frame your face. Expertly applied black lipstick adorned your kissable lips, drawing men in enough that they’d lose their minds thinking of all the things that pretty mouth could do. The man beneath you was among them. 

He spotted you from across the room, your figure bathed in red neon light as you sat at the bar plotting your next move. You let him buy you a few drinks, loosening you both up enough that secrets began to spill as freely as the vodka in your glass. “I wanna know if I tell you a secret, will you keep it?” the dark haired man whispered in your ear, a hand hovering dangerously close to your inner thigh. You swore that you would, hand over your heart. And that’s when he confessed. Your clear fascination with the man known as the Seoul Slasher had prompted him to reveal himself to you. 

You couldn’t believe it. A real live serial killer, an absolute monster, so hypnotized by you he was nearly drooling down your cleavage. Going against every self preservation tactic they taught you in school, you invited him back to your place for a bit of fun. An offer he excitedly accepted. For a man whose entire modus operandi is control, he was more than happy to relinquish it to you. In no time you had him spread out on your bed, arms and legs handcuffed to the bed frame. 

The entire room’s dark save for the flickering wicks of a few candles sprinkled about the room. You run a hand down his bare chest, sharp nails nicking at his tattooed flesh. He hisses at the sting, grinding his hips up against your core to add some pleasure to the pain.

You let out a giggle, fingers teasing the waist of his pants, “Tell me how you did it.” You flash your doe eyes, tightening your plush thighs around his hips. 

“How’d I do what?” he asks, far too preoccupied with your body to hone in on your words. 

“Those last two guys you killed. I wanna know every gory detail. You can tell me while I ride your cock.”

Your words certainly aren’t falling on deaf ears. He heard you loud and clear. He takes a calculated pause before providing you with a less than satisfying answer. “I used a butcher knife. Chopped them up real easy. Some of my best work I’d say.”

“Oh” you pout, shoulders dropping. You fold your arms across your chest, your disappointment hanging heavy in the air. “You really shouldn’t lie, you know? It’s a nasty habit.”

“Lie?” he scoffs, a nervous smile creeping across his face. His deception has failed and he doesn’t have enough brain cells to save this sinking ship. “I’m not lying, babe. I’m telling you. I used a butcher knife.”

You point an accusatory finger at him, applying pressure right between his eyes. “Dirty, dirty, liar” you sing, “You aren’t the Seoul Slasher.”

“And how would you know?” he asks, unjustly offended at the fact that you aren’t stupid enough to buy his bullshit. 

You lean in close, the warm flames of the candles reflecting in your eyes like hellfire. “Because I’m already fucking him and he’s not too happy about you going around pretending to be him. It’s just bad manners.” 

His smile grows more strained, his nervous laughter tickling the tip of your nose. He can’t tell if you’re serious or not but this is getting a little weird. Even for him. You watch him for a moment before erupting in soft, sweet laughter that mocks him. Reaching underneath your pillow you pull out a gag and shove it right into his mouth, shutting him up for the first time tonight. 

“Baby, I’m done playing now!” you call out like a housewife announcing that dinner’s ready. 

You sit back up, climbing off of him, and skip your way over to the dresser on the other side of the room. You hop up, feet giddily swinging back and forth to the tune of heavy footsteps descending the hallway. The man’s eyes dart over to the closed bedroom door, his heart thumping out of his chest. You can make out a few muffled protests but you dare not take it out. There’s nothing he can say that interests you now. Not that it ever did. 

When your best friend first told you that a guy at the club was going around claiming to be the Slasher, you couldn’t believe your ears. Especially not when the real one was sleeping peacefully beside you. Further investigation proved that your best friend had been telling the truth so he had to be dealt with. Then another popped up and another. This one will make for the 4th and you must admit, as annoying as identity theft is for your boyfriend, you get a kick out of luring them here. 

They always start out so cocky but once the gag’s in and those footsteps come, getting closer and closer at an agonizing pace, they’re not so confident anymore. At first they freeze up just like the corpse they’re soon to be. The shock does need a few seconds to set in. And then they panic, screaming through the gag and tugging at their bindings, their bodies writhing like a fish out of water. This one’s no different than the others. You can guess his next move like a film you’ve watched a dozen times and all of it’s in vain. 

Sweat slicks his brow as the door creaks open and your face lights up like the Fourth of July. You breathe a sigh of relief. There he is. You’ve only been apart for hours but it feels like an eternity. A tall figure steps out of the shadows into the candlelight, revealing a handsome man in tailored black pants and a black button up you pressed yourself. His sleeves are rolled up, tucked just below the elbow where a pair of long black latex gloves begin. He spares the unfortunate soul strapped to the bed a passing glance before approaching you. He leans forward, palms flat on the dresser, caging you in. 

“Did I do okay?” you question innocently, always hungry for the praise he never fails to feed you. 

Yunho nods, gloved fingers stroking your soft cheek, “Oh, my good girl. You did more than okay. What would I do without you?”

Taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, he tilts your head up, capturing your lips in a kiss that would soak your panties if you were wearing any. He takes a deep breath as he pulls away, not wanting to but knowing that time is of the essence.

“Did he touch you?” Yunho’s jaw tenses, gloved hands flexing to warm up for the night’s events. 

You peek around him to check in on the dark haired man. His face is wet with tears and he’s sobbing all over your new gag. You pray he hasn’t pissed himself. You’re not in the mood to have to buy a new mattress again.

You look back to your boyfriend and nod. “In the car he put his hand on my thigh.” 

“Thank you for telling me, baby,” Yunho says, kissing you on the forehead. He turns around, eyes darkening as he approaches the foot of the bed. “I’ll start with his hands.” 

Kneeling down, he slides a large case from underneath the bed and pops it open to reveal his tools. The spread is a pristine assortment of autopsy tools, not a lowly butcher knife in sight. He delicately runs his fingers over them, settling on the fine toothed bone saw. Your gaze never leaves him as he rounds the bed, aligning the sharp teeth of the saw with what you’ve come to know as the ulna. The bone right on his inner forearm. 

Yunho grinds the saw against it and the man’s arm tears open, tattered pieces of flesh splintering off to the side as he carves his way through tough tendons. Blood gushes from the man’s arm, drenching the brand new sheets in a river of crimson. Yunho’s movements are precise and purposeful. The saw taps bone as the body below him convulses violently, the pain beyond anything you can imagine or ever care to. 

Your boyfriend pauses, glancing over at you, and you know it’s about that time. You open one of the drawers beside you, fishing out your phone and a pair of over ear headphones. You sync them up, hitting play on your favorite song, and smile lovingly back at him.

He can’t be as brutal when he knows you’re listening. It’s one of few things about his profession he’s never quite been able to bring himself to expose you to. Even with the man’s cries muffled, being dismantled brings sounds out of someone that could give the most vile person nightmares. You can watch all you want but you won’t hear them.

It’d be easy to say that you weren’t like this before you met him. You were a sweet, delicate flower and this charming psychopath came along, corrupting your young soul. But a girl doesn’t get wet watching her boyfriend dismember people because she had her purity corrupted.

You were never innocent, you’d simply presented yourself as such. Yunho just freed you from the prison of feeling guilty about what got you off. Power. Not being at the mercy of anyone. Yunho treats you like a princess. You’re never left wanting for anything. Your every desire is satisfied. So what if your Prince Charming comes with a body count? Nobody’s perfect. 

Yunho makes quick work of the body. After the slice to his second arm the man’s already at death’s door and the severing of his knees puts the final nail in the coffin. Yunho tosses the body parts to the ground like the limbs of an old doll. Breathless and blood soaked as he licks splatters of scarlet from his lip, he goes in for another cut.

You’re the only other thing he looks at like he does his work. The excitement of the kill is borderline orgasmic, dopamine coursing through his veins with every gruesome cut. Once he starts he has to keep going, chasing his high until it’s finished and the body’s nothing more than scattered pieces of an impossible puzzle. 

Shoving the torso to the floor, he steps back to catch his breath, waving to get your attention. You slip your headphones off, setting them down to navigate the landmine of limbs and entrails to reach your love. 

“You need some water, Yunie?” you ask, throwing your arms around him. The blood weighing down his clothes sticks to your arms, cool against your skin. It used to feel a bit strange but after a few times you’ve come to find it refreshing like a cool shower on a hot day. 

Yunho shakes his head, a dazed look in his eyes. Usually the adrenaline begins to die down after that final cut but it’s only getting more intense. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he salivates over you like a man on the brink of starvation. “No, I need you. Right now.” 

His lips crash into yours at a thousand miles per hour and you don’t even attempt to stop him. Why would you? Bloody gloves cling to your dress, stripping you of the material. You rip his shirt open, sending buttons raining down onto the slippery hardwood floor. Yunho’s hands ravenously explore your body as you rid him of his pants, painting your plush figure in blood like a canvas. 

Attempting to feast upon your body through gloves is as close to torture as he’s ever come so he tears them off, groaning in delight as his bare hands sink into your pillowy ass. He picks you up, tossing you back on the bed, your breasts bouncing marvelously as you land.

You grin watching your boyfriend stare down at you like an absolute animal. His body’s everything dreams are made of, his flawless, rigid cock already leaking in anticipation. You spread your thighs, teasing him with the arousal dripping from your entrance. Bringing two fingers between your legs, you stroke them between your lips, spreading yourself open for him.

“You want it?” you moan, back arching as you pinch your sensitive clit. 

Yunho positions himself between your legs, palming his cock above a pussy that’s clenching wildly at the ghost of what could be. He places a hand on your thigh, admiring the view. You in a sea of blood toying with yourself for his pleasure. What a sight to behold.

“You aren’t teasing me are you?” he asks, gripping your thigh tighter. His voice is low and rough, feral in every way. 

You bring your slick fingers up to the head of his cock, coating it on your juices. “And what if I am?”

You motion to get up, your brain set on tasting his cock on your tongue, but Yunho’s quicker than you, grabbing your wrists and pinning your arms over your head. His free hand wraps around your neck, the veins of his arms pulsing as he applies the right amount of pressure to leave you breathless but not in pain. 

“Do you want it?” He bumps his cock against your slit, missing on purpose to drag it between your folds. Your body shudders as much as it can with his full weight on you. 

“Mmhmm” you hum, knowing he won’t hurt you but loving that you’re completely at his mercy. 

“You know that’s not enough, baby” he smiles, squeezing your throat tighter, “I need to hear it, princess. Tell me you want it. Beg for daddy’s cock.”

He presses his throbbing tip to your entrance but this time he arches into you, giving you the head and nothing more. The stretch of that alone is disorienting, a wave of heat rushing through you. Releasing his hold on  your throat, he brings his lips to yours, parting them to taste the desperate pleas that spill out. 

“I want you to fuck me, Yunie. I’m so needy for your cock. I have been all night” you whine and his tongue traces your lips. You taste delicious. He inches into you, feeding you a little more then stopping. A little more then stopping. And your body jumps with every motion, pitiful sounds pouring from your lips onto his. 

“Fuck me” you beg, an undeniable brokeness in your tone, “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck…” Your voice trails off, eyes rolling back as he bottoms out. He lifts off of you, still holding your arms in place above your head, and thrusts into you ever so gently. You clamp down around him tightly enough that it’s hard to move, your pussy's too needy to let go. 

Yunho grins, cupping one of your breasts, “I didn’t know watching me kill got you so hot. You’re sick, you know that?” He pinches your nipple harshly and you squeal, twisting in his hold. 

“I know” you moan, blowing him a kiss, “But so are you.”

“Fuck, I love you” he growls, pulling you under with another dizzying kiss.

His thrusts grow harsher, your warm, spongy walls drawing him in impossibly deeper. His fingers knead the tender flesh of your breast as he brings his tongue down to soak your bud in equal parts blood and spit. Taking the bud between his teeth, he wraps his lip around it, suckling at it without losing his rhythm between your legs. 

“Yunie. So good. So, mmph, aah…” you’re moaning but he gives one particularly hard thrust to your cunt, knocking the words right out of your mouth. 

You want to touch him so badly. To dig your nails into his back while he fucks into you. To run your fingers through his hair, tugging at the deep brown strands as his tongue swirls around your bud.

“Touch” you pout, wiggling your hands. 

Yunho pops your bud free of his lips, licking his way up your breasts, across your heated skin, along your neck, until you’re eye to eye. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna touch you. Please, daddy” you plead. You’re so helpless. So beautiful.

Yunho watches you squirm, feigning indecision. After an agonizingly long contemplation, he turns your arms loose, the redness on your wrists marking where he held you. Your hands are drawn to him like magnets, scouring every inch of him they can reach just to feel him.

Your nails find his back, digging into the flesh. Yunho buries his face in your neck, moaning at the sensation. “Harder” he whispers, fingers knotting in the sheets beneath you. You dig your nails in deeper, breaking skin, and he’s on the edge of a whimper, the sensation nearly too much for him. 

Slipping an arm around your back, he keeps you flush against him, sinking into you over and over. Your mouth falls open, eyes squeezed closed. You’re saying something but nothing’s coming out. Only whines and moans, the occasional fractured piece of his name.

There’s no bracing yourself for a cock this long and thick. You just have to take it, let it destroy every bit of you until there’s nothing left. A sense of euphoria surges through you and your legs instinctively lock around his waist. 

“That’s it” he coos, fawning over the string of hickeys he’s left on your neck, “Be a good girl and cum for me.” Yunho grabs for your wrists one last time, locking them above your head. He pounds into you so hard the bed creaks, maybe even moves a few inches. “I wanna feel you gushing around this cock.”

Suddenly your breath hitches and your body feels weightless. It’s as if you’re floating above yourself. Watching this gorgeous man fuck you into the mattress like his own personal whore. And you are. You’re more than happy to be. Your senses come back to you in a rush of ecstasy and you’re trembling, crying out as you do exactly as he said. Creaming, gushing, dripping down his length. 

Yunho pulls back, kneeling between your legs to drag his cock out and glide it back in. He goes all starry eyed at the sight of his cock glistening in your cum and soon he’s spilling inside of you. Your needy walls milking his cock of the warm, white liquid that overflows from your delicious pussy.

His hand comes down on your plush belly, enjoying its softness as he feeds you those last few strokes. You’re still moaning weakly when he finishes, laying back on the bed and pulling you on top of him. 

Curled up safe and warm in his arms, you bask in the afterglow, thoughts of the man your boyfriend dismantled little more than a distant thought now. But ultimately it’s difficult to ignore. Especially when your eyes drift up and you notice something dangling in the corner of your eye. 

“Yunie” you say, lightly petting his shoulder. 

Yunho strokes your hair, looking down at you lovingly, “Yes, baby?”

“I think his hand’s still attached to the handcuff.”

[paintingwhiteceilings]

❃Seventeen and spotting their S/O during a concert❃

A/N: sooo like a lot of you I will be going to Lollapalooza in Berlin in September to see Seventeen. I am very excited to get the chance to see them live after having been a carat for such an incredibly long time. Anyway, hopefully, I will see some of you there! Let’s have a great time together and be extra loud for the boys!

To celebrate Seventeen’s acknowledgement of the European continent, here is a small prompt about them spotting their S/O during their concert. This prompt might be a little short as I am slowly getting back into writing and creating 13 different reactions takes a lot of time so bear with me as I find my footing again!

 Scoups/Seungcheol:

❀ Coups will be all smiles the moment he spots you in the crowd. You had kept it secret from him that you would be attending, and now it finally makes sense to him why you had been so weird when he asked you what you were going to be doing tonight whilst he was gone.

❀ He tries not to draw too much attention to you being there, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. However, he is having a difficult time not glancing in your direction and subconsciously wanders near to where you are sitting whenever they are not dancing.

❀ The moment he sees you are cold, he makes sure to hand over his hoodie to you. For good measure, he donates his bucket hat as well; what if your ears get cold? You know what, he is going to ask the staff to hand you some hot packs, just in case.

❀ He goes hard on the sexy parts of the songs, giving it his all. He wants to impress you; you better bring some holy water.

Jeonghan

❀ At first, you might assume that Jeonghan is completely unaware that you are in the crowd, watching him perform. There is nothing to indicate that he has noticed you as he continues to perform as he normally would, cool on the outside.

❀ However, in actuality, Jeonghan spotted you almost immediately and is absolutely thrilled to see you; he is just more subtle with it than some of the other members. Throughout the concert, he tries to communicate his excitement mainly through small gestures, only noticeable to those who know him well. For instance, he will walk past your spot, giving you a cheeky wink or be a bit more energetic with the members.  

❀ He also starts teasing you by making obscure inside jokes and references to funny stories during talking segments, subtly mentioning some of your embarrassing moments he witnessed.

❀ He will try to convince Seungkwan to force you to sing the Aju Nice high note for his own enjoyment, laughing when you fail.

Joshua

❀ Joshua always felt apprehensive about inviting you to his concerts, not because he didn't want you there but because he didn't want to pressure you into attending. So when you decide to surprise him by attending without telling him, he turns all mushy.

❀ He sends you small, soft smiles throughout the concert. The smiling doesn’t cease during the performances either; Joshua keeps smiling even during songs where smiling doesn't really fit the concept, as he is supposed to be all sexy and mysterious.

❀ During the vocal ballads, he seeks you out in the crowd again. Throughout the song, he makes eye contact with you, expressing his love for you through the lyrics of the song.

❀ When he is asked to sing a song he recently has been listening to during one of the talking segments, he will make sure to sing a snippet of your favourite song.  

Jun

❀ Jun is so focused during the concert that he doesn't initially notice you in the crowd. The other members have to point it out to him; Seungkwan gently nudges him during one of the talking segments, bringing your presence to his awareness.

❀ Rather than getting smiley or more energetic, Jun, instead, gets a bit shy when he makes eye contact with you. He suddenly regrets all the weird stuff his members made him do during the talking segments of the concert.

❀ Once he eases up, though, his happiness at seeing you outweighs his shyness. The members notice he is extra energized during the concert, continuously bouncing around the stage during the Aju Nice encore.

❀ Somewhere during the concert, DK and Hoshi convince him to wave in your direction. Thus, you get the cutest, most bashful tiny wave, followed by him hiding behind a laughing Mingyu.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

❀ Okay, where the other members would probably keep their relationships private for as long as possible, Hoshi probably would not be able to keep your relationship secret for long. This man is the king of spoilers, and if fans weren't aware of him being in a relationship before the concert, they for sure know about it after.

❀ He is another member who initially doesn't notice that you are there until another member points it out. Woozi didn't even intend to bring it to Hoshi's awareness; he had merely noted that you had seemed to enjoy their performance of Hot, making Hoshi realize you had been there all along.

❀ His energy explodes the moment he spots you in the crowd. Everything is cranked to the max; he is performing at 200% and is running across the stage as if his life depends on it. Hoshi wants to make you laugh, regularly checking whether his unhinged joke or skit landed by glancing in your direction.

❀ Throughout the concert, he sends exaggerated gestures your way. He continuously is horanghae-ing in your direction and blowing kisses, not bothered in the slightest that technically he should be keeping your relationship on the down low.

Wonwoo

❀ Chances are that this man is too blind to spot you in the crowd. Wonwoo has admitted that he never wears contact lenses on stage and, thus, cannot see anything or anyone in front of him. Consequently, if it hadn't been for Mingyu pointing you out to him, Wonwoo would never have known you had attended the concert.

❀ As a result, he momentarily puts in contact lenses just so that he can see your smile. However, rather than feeling energized by your presence, he is another member who gets painfully shy upon spotting you.

❀ Whenever his eyes meet yours, he freezes for a second, giving you a tiny smile and the tiniest nod before quickly looking away. He has been having trouble focusing on anything but you; his eyes keep seeking you out whenever they have a talking segment, not listening to a single word his members are saying.

❀ Wonwoo, at some point, seriously considers removing his contact lenses, especially when Mingyu notices why his friend is getting so flustered and distracted, teasing him about it.

Woozi/Jihoon

❀ Woozi has the best poker face, for the most part. Although you can tell by the small smile that graces his face throughout the performances that he has noticed you, he mostly seems unaffected by your presence.

❀ The other members, however, do not let him get off all that easily. Throughout the concert, they tease him, bringing up inside jokes between the two of you or teasingly commending him on his well-written romantic lyrics. His lyrics are so ingenious, wherever did he get the inspiration from?

❀ Due to all the teasing comments about him being a romantic guy and making romantic songs, he gets a bit shy when singing his ballads. Most of his love songs were written about you, and he can't help but avoid your gaze as he feels the burning, knowing stares of his fellow vocal unit members. Woozi feels a bit too embarrassed at saying his poetic love confessions out loud in such a public space.

❀ Still, his shyness does not keep him from wandering to the area where you are sitting, checking whether you are having a good time and ensuring that you know he appreciates you attending the concert by giving you a small smile and wave.

DK/Seokmin

❀ DK is so oblivious to you being there; it isn't that he hasn't seen you, but he hasn't noticed it is actually you. He even pointed you out to Minghao, remarking that he had found your body double. Of course, Minghao scolded him for not being able to recognize his own partner.

❀ When it finally dawns on him that you took the time to attend their concert, he starts to tear up. One of his speeches leaves you sobbing, too. DK is so incredibly sincere, tearfully thanking everyone who has come to support him and remarking that without their encouragements, he wouldn’t have been able to perform as well as he did. Although he is deliberately keeping his speech vague, you know he is talking about you.

❀ Nevertheless, DK is not the most subtle about his excitement about you being there. He will regularly enthusiastically wave in your direction. Ultimately, Coups has to step in as it is becoming rather suspicious that DK seems to continuously be playfully interacting with only a select group of Carats. From then on, DK has to follow a simple rule: one interaction with you equals two waves to Carats on the other side of the stadium.

❀ As he wants to commemorate the first time you attended his concert, he will save a piece of confetti for you as a memento.

Mingyu

❀ Mingyu has been begging you for ages to attend one of his concerts. Unfortunately, your schedule never lined up with the concert dates; even worse, you couldn't cancel your already-made plans, much to your shared disappointment. Thus, when the stars aligned and you finally had the time to go, Mingyu was absolutely over the moon.

❀ Mingyu is noticeably more energetic and giggly throughout the concert. He keeps glancing in your direction, breaking out in a massive smile whenever your eyes meet. Whenever he is able to walk around the stage, he ends up in front of you, giving you a pout when he notices you watching another member. Poor Coups has a field day reminding Mingyu not to make his affection for you so apparent to the fans.

❀ He is on a whole different level during the sexy songs; his shirt accidentally keeps getting drenched, and an overenthusiastic DK keeps trying to lift it 'just because', knowing you would appreciate it.

❀ Mingyu has told every single member that you are there, at least twice. They have tried to hush him, but in his excitement, he keeps nudging them and pointing over at you. He is lucky the microphones haven’t picked up his yapping.

The8/Minghao

❀ He knew you were coming to the concert and had been trying to dissuade you from doing so. It simply didn't make sense to him why you wanted to attend. Why waste that much money on tickets when he could invite you to the dance practices or give you a mini concert at home for free?

❀ On the inside, he is incredibly happy that you chose to attend the concert. Minghao briefly mentions it in passing to Jun, unable to hide the soft smile that keeps appearing whenever he does as much as think about you being there.

❀ He is very giggly throughout the concert. To both Carats' and Seventeen's surprise, Minghao keeps laughing at Hoshi's unhinged jokes, even forgetting about his anti-horanghae agenda.

❀ Fans keep thinking he meditated that day because he somehow is very patient with his members' crazy and embarrassing behaviour. In reality, he is too distracted looking at you to actively notice half of the stuff his members are pulling during the talking segments of the concert.

❀ Minghao absolutely refuses to join in on their idiocy, however. He does not want to do anything embarrassing in front of you, even if it would make you laugh.

Seungkwan

❀ It is noticeable to everyone around him that he is so incredibly happy that you were able to attend his concert. Mind you, you have attended his concerts before, but every time you do, Seungkwan treats it like it is the first time you are watching him perform. He has brought it up to every single staff member, excitedly telling them this is going to be the best concert yet because you are there to support him.

❀ He is pulling more shenanigans than usual. His sole goal during the concert is to make you laugh until you cry, and thus, he has pulled out all the stops, imitating every celebrity under the sun. Their concert almost feels like a Going Seventeen episode with Seungkwan as the MC.

❀ During the concert, Seungkwan is flaunting his dance and singing skills. He is adding a riff here and there and putting even more emotion behind the words he is singing. If possible, he will convince the members to let him have his Sexy Seungkwan moment.

❀ At some point during the concert, he will 100% go up to you, just to make you do something crazy. I hope you practised your Aju Nice high note and warmed up for your dance solo.

Vernon

❀ Vernon keeps quiet about you being at the concert; he spotted you almost immediately but will not mention it to any of the members. Seungkwan is downright offended when Vernon mentions it after the concert has ended, scolding him that he should have told them you were there. Vernon wants you to enjoy the concert without all the stuff he knows the members would pull once they realize you are in attendance.

❀ During the concert, you feel like you are on The Office. Whenever one of the members does something stupid or embarrassing, Vernon will make direct eye contact with you, pulling a meme face to silently communicate his tortured feelings at having to witness it.  

❀ Vernon isn't one to go over to your area and give you a wave or a smile, wanting you to enjoy a normal concert-going experience. At most, he will briefly meet your eyes during a meaningful line.

❀ He is not paying any attention to his members during talking segments, zoning out to blatantly stare at you. When they scold him backstage, he 1000% uses you as his excuse.

Dino/Chan

❀ You hadn't told Dino that you would be attending their upcoming concert, mostly because you knew that if you did, his perfectionism would get the better of him. Dino would practice deep into the night, wanting to give you the best performance imaginable, and, thus, not telling him, was your way of preventing your boyfriend from overworking himself.

❀ Still, the moment he notices you in the crowd, he goes on a mission to prove himself. Gone is the cute maknae; he has cranked up his stage presence to 5000% and will not accept a single mistake.

❀ Throughout the concert, Dino keeps glancing in your direction to gauge your reaction whenever he has executed a difficult or sexy dance move.

❀ Although he loves making you laugh, Dino feels torn between making a fool out of himself or being the cool, sexy guy. Still, after some encouragement from his members, he will join them in their skits, bringing out his famous characters. Seeing your laughter at his ridiculousness boosts his confidence tenfold.

❀ Despite his members' pushiness, he is way too shy to actually go over to where you are sitting or wave at you. Instead, he jealously stares at you from afar as the other members interact with you.

Masterlist

[bugs1nmybrain]

✨️ L Lawliet w/ a Shy & Insecure Reader Headcanons ✨️

Notes: I got real specific here. I need some validation haha. I swear if L ever complimented me I'd implode and then explode like I've done many times in the DS game (don't make fun of me >:<)

I'm adding pink text and sparkles to the title. Cope with it DN twt

Warnings: 18+!!! There is some sexy content, no gendered terms or pronouns. I tried being inclusive with the sexy stuff. Talks about poor self-esteem and insecurities. L being his rude ass self at one point. Reader described as quiet. I did indeed write L as a sweetheart, and I don't regret it one bit! :D. Not proofread

For starters, shy isn't a problem for L. He appreciates that you're quiet and relatively polite. It makes it easier for him to get away with dating you because he knows you're not going to be obnoxious around headquarters, and there's a good chance you'll never even mention that you're his partner

He finds it vry cute. Especially when you stumble over your words when he flirts with you. His pride is very comfy with you.

You are a perfect parallel play lover!!! He's grateful that you don't pester him when he's busy, but he doesn't mind you being around him. You can draw, do homework, write, play video games, anything. He just appreciates your company. He's also 100% paying attention out of his peripheral vision.

But because you're quiet, sometimes you don't share all of your thoughts with him and it can make for a satisfying relationship. L sure as shit isn't disclosing a lot of stuff, so he sees it as even

A lot of your secrets are insecurities, though. You worry a lot about your competency as a romantic partner. Whether it's your intelligence, physical beauty, personality, interests, anything really. You're always anxious that you're not enough, and not enough for him.

L knows well that you lack confidence. He's torn, actually, because he wants to see you become more sure of yourself and he'll try to help. He teaches you skills when he has time and makes sure to compliment you when you do something good. Sometimes he stretches the truth in his praises just to make you feel better. He knows you value his opinion a lot.

However, your insecure nature is an easy opening for him to get away with a lot. Nothing that serious, but secret tests are a given with L, and he does like to test if you'll push through him not given you the validation he knows you want. It actually does make him feel like 10% bad, though, and he'll make up for it.

He understands why you're insecure, but at the same time, he thinks it's silly. Especially when you admit to him that you're worried about your physical appearance or sexual abilities. It's in those moments he just wants to tell you to stop because "have you seen me, y/n?"

But yes please flatter his ego

When you started sleeping together it actually was pretty smooth and natural

I truly believe L was a virgin until you, so he probably wasn't much more confident than you

The doom of adult virginity/inexperience is that everyone expects you to be pornographic by now, and for an insecure person that can be very demanding

L doesn't expect that and won't be disappointed by something slow and "vanilla." He likes that, honestly. But of course, if/whenever you're ready for something more spicy, he's very open to communicating about it

This guy is just happy to touch you, period

If you fumble because you're nervous, he's not upset, but he'll redirect you with affirming words

He does admittedly get irritated by consistent nagging and the self-deprecating comments you make. It annoys him after a bit. He'll likely disengage to avoid hurting your feelings, but if you're persistent, he'll give it to you straight.

"The only thing you should be insecure about is that you're a broken record."

Fight the tears

It actually does make him upset when you doubt him and his love for you. It makes him feel like you don't trust him. L is aware that he's deceptive by nature, but he wants you to trust that he values you. He certainly wouldn't be in a committed relationship with you if his feelings weren't genuine

So he reminds you. Again. And again. That he wants you in his life and treasures you

You're lucky that he loves you so much

Sometimes, you'll go through periods of isolating from him because you're afraid of bothering him. Trust me. He's glad to have time to work, but he does pick up on your distance quick

You're so afraid of asking him for attention

or even just a bite of his cake. He always offers, tho.

But yea. L is a busy guy and comfortable in seclusion, so he isn't that clingy. He can go a long time without checking in on you, which doesn't help the paranoia

When he decides to take a break for once, usually his first instinct is to either 1. Get coffee or a treat, or 2. Make a bee line to see you!!

OR 3. BRING YOU FOOD TO SHARE

Know that he loves you much more than most things. You are his priority, even if his work takes precedence at times.

He'll attempt to build your trust over time because he understands how hard it is to believe in someone's honesty. It'll get better, and you'll likely start to feel more self-assured with him. L talks a lot, but he believes actions speak louder than words, so he'll show you how much he loves you through the little things because you light up his world after an exhausting day full of murder and nonstop thinking. You're home to him and he wants you to feel the same way about him.

[hrtwayne]

Dress || Jenna Ortega

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Swift Best-Friend!Reader

Summary: Where Jenna hopes her best friend will finally see her as more than just a friend.

Note: Chapter inspired by Dress by Taylor Swift! (English is not my first language!!)

Warning: Mentions of alcohol consumption, mild jealousy, and a possible kiss!

MASTERLIST

Completely massive events were never your thing, even though you were aworld-renowned singer. Normally, you'd only show up for after-parties or if something truly important was happening. Still, being at the Met Gala after-partyalways turned into chaos-especially whenyou were the sibling of one of the biggest singers of the moment.

Being a Swift was like carrying a massive stone on your shoulders. Honoring your older sister's legacy was a heavy burden tobear, but you were undoubtedly proud of your work, and that was enough to make you feel good about it.

Your best friend's clingy and overly affectionate tendencies had never been a problem for you. Whether she was holding your hand or leaning against your waist you figured it was just because she liked being close to you. Or maybe it was because some people could be annoyingly inappropriate, which was truly unbearable at times.

Everything seemed to unfold smoothly until a man, roughly in his thirties, appeared at your table with an arrogant smirk and a glass of tequila in hand. Jenna, with her dark brown eyes, watched the scene with a deadly glare, tightening her grip on your leg.

"You know," the man started, "I thought you were really gorgeous and figured, 'I should ask for her number."

"Well, actually, I'm not much of a fan of tequila-or men, especially the ones who think money makes them superior," you replied, grabbing Jenna's whiskey glass and taking a sip.

The man widened his eyes before huffing quietly and walking away from the table.

After that unpleasant encounter, the rest of your night seemed to go smoothly-except for the part where Jenna wore a slight scowl on her face. You tried talking to her, but she just mumbled something and drank the whiskey frighteningly fast (she would definitely regret that in the morning).

A few minutes later, you felt a pair of warm hands brushing against the fabric covering your body. Jenna seemed lost in her own thoughts, pretending to pay attention to the table's conversation.

"Can you come to the bathroom with me?"Jenna whispered against your ear, sendinga mix of anxiety and confusion coursing through your body.

With a quick nod, you both made your way to the restroom. Jenna's hands remained fixed on your waist as the black door came into view.

The sound of the lock clicking made you furrow your brows. Jenna stood with an intimidating gaze, forcing you to step back until your body hit the tiled wall with a faint thud.

Her eyes seemed to trace every inch of you,focusing entirely on your crimson-painted lips.

Was she really about to kiss you? And would you kiss her back?

Jenna seemed very aware of what she was doing

"Did I ever tell you how stunning you look in outfits like this?" she asked, her hands grazing your waist over the fabric.

"Well, you mentioned it when you saw me at the entrance," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush. "But I wouldn't mind if you said it again.

"You look breathtaking in this outfit, sweetheart," Jenna whispered, her facenow mere inches from yours. "And I really, really want to kiss you."

The moment those words left Jenna's reddened lips, your knees nearly buckled. Her raspy voice and darkened gaze stirred unimaginable feelings with in you.

Your only response was to press your lips against hers, letting your hands wander freely over her body, inviting her to draw closer. The familiarity and novelty of the moment filled the air as your fingers tangled in Jenna's brunette locks, pulling her impossibly closer, while her arms tightened around your waist.

Your lips moved passionately, neither of you willing to break the moment. Jenna's hands slid further into your hair, while your hands traced the curves you were only now discovering

When you finally pulled apart, your eyes met, and an unspoken mixture of desirefear, and passion lingered between you. It was a moment loaded with the weight of years of friendship, as if crossing anuncertain sea and risking your bond felt terrifying

"I hope this doesn't change things betweenus," Jenna said softly, her eyes glinting with anticipation.

"It won't, Jen. Things will just take adifferent path," you reassured her, pressing a kiss to her swollen lips.

The comforting hum of the air conditioner mingled with the sound of your steady breaths, your bodies still intertwined. The sunlight streaming through the window cast small crystalline patterns on your skin, while Jenna's bronzed complexion contrasted against your own.

Jenna held you protectively, as if afraid you might slip away at any moment.

Minutes passed before a quiet groan brokethe serene silence. The soft orange rays were beginning to annoy Jenna, who cursed herself internally for not fully closing the curtains last night.

Fresh reddish marks adorned her back making Jenna stifle a mischievous smile.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes, their grayish hue catching the morning light. You felt Jenna's cold nose trailing along your neck.

"You can go back to sleep, my love. I justneed to close the curtains," Jenna whispered, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

You mumbled something unintelligible before shutting your eyes again. Jenna chuckled softly, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling closer to you

[yoredoesmore]

Sparring Is Caring | Hoshina Soshiro

You and Hoshina are no longer allowed to spar together

The third division has many rules and regulations to keep the facility safe and in order. One of those rules is that you and the Vice Captain are no longer allowed to step into the same training room at the same time. Ashiro herself put the rule up after being summoned to break up one of your fights.

Nothing good could ever come from a man who is more than confident in his fighting skills and can back up his words by obliterating all his sparring opponents and a person who has been trained to fight and kill from an early age and does not accept defeat as an option.

You would have never bothered to train with Hoshina, as you were well aware that the both of you had the same chemistry as fire and oil when it came to sparring together. When fighting Kaiju or in your free time you harmonized just perfectly but when your pride was at stake all was doomed to burn.

But then Iharu just had to ask who would win in a fist fight, you or the Vice Captain. The both of you immediately answered with “me” and that is how it all began.

“Ya sure ya wanna do this?” Hoshina had that cocky grin on his face as he stretched his limbs.

“Are you regretting your choices, Captain? Don't tell me yer scared.”

It was so on.

The two of you exchanged blows that would have a junior cadet knocked out cold. You twisted and dodged in ways the audience did not know was possible while Hoshina kept aiming at you in swift motions. Hoshina was fast and strong, making sure to target your weak spots while you put your focus on catching him off guard.

The session got to the point where the others were convinced that you were going to kill each other if somebody didn't step in, and they were right.

As the fight proceeded, more and more space was taken by the storm the two of you were creating. Chairs and water bottles got knocked over, the crowd had to evacuate the training room to not get hit by some of the attacks and even some of the equipment got dented.

Just when you were about to incorporate brooms and mops into the fight Ashiro walked in, bringing an end to the mess. The room had become a wreckage yet the two of you were still hungry for more.

This went on for a little longer. It started with you and Hoshina promising Ashiro to keep it down and not overdo it and ended with yet another training room having to be closed for “renovations”

After that Ashiro announced (over the speakers may I add for everyone to hear) that security is to be called if you and Hoshina are ever seen in the same training room again.

(They later on added signs saying “only one crazy lunatic allowed in at a time” with drawings of you and Hoshina in front of every training room)

[starlight-45]

Trying to take care of drunk reader (Part 1)

Featuring: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Rin Itoshi and Michael Kaiser

Here's the masterlist!

A/n:- Don't know why I did this. thought it would be funny.

~ISAGI YOICHI~

• Poor guy was just concerned for your life when he saw you chugging that third glass of wine with flushed cheeks.

• Isagi dosen't say anything though and thinks to let you enjoy yourself for today, sipping up his non-alcoholic drinks calmly.

• However, he draws the line with it when he sees sees going you not being able to walk in a straight line.

• Regrets for not saying anything before. A lot. Like really.

• "HEYYY BRO, WHAT'S THE PLAN FOR TONIGHT BRO??"

"I'm your boyfriend y/n, please stop calling me your bro 😭"

• Never, ever again, he thinks. Yes, he always wanted a sister but you're his girlfriend! Stop calling him that!

• But we all know, this guy is the responsible one. Of course he'd take care of your drunken self well.

• A bit annoyed by the situation, yes but also intrigued if you happen to utter out stuff and secrets your sober self would never.

• Is literally goggling stuff like "Do's and don'ts with a drunk person" , "How to make somehow sober as soon as possible" while you're clinging on his back like a koala.

• Please don't laugh at him later for doing that, he is an athelete who never dealt with a drunk individual.

• Gently urges you to sleep, as soon as you guys get home, because lord knows he just wants you to get back to your usual self.

• Because Isagi doesn't think he can survive being called 'bro' again by you. :')

~Meguru Bachira~

• Bachira's definitely laughing at your funny, silly actions all the time. Not like in a "You're such an idiot" way, but in a "That's so cute!" type of way actually.

• Takes this as an opportunity to be the more responsible one in this relationship for once which obviously never happens.

• And by "responsible" I meant playfully scolding you, trying to imitate the way you scold him sometimes when he gets out of line sometimes.

• "Y/n, you can't take that money plant home~!"

"BUT IT'S MONEY PLANT! IT CAN GROW MONEY!"

"OMG LET'S TRY IT THEN!"

• ...Yeah. I guess you already knew he fails miserably at that.

• Very good at handling your mindless ramblings , like you could tell him every thought of yours which came from your overthinking process.

• And believe me sweetheart, he would have the perfect reply to match your vibe, somehow. Lord knows whow he does it every time because I don't.

• "Meguru...when you say forward and backward your lips moves in those directions."

"WAIT IT'S THE SAME WITH 'YOU' AND 'ME'!"

"OMG NEW DISCOVERY!"

• But jokes aside Bachira encourages you to drink a lots and lots of water to help you get better. :D

• Long story short, perfect companion to get crazy with!!

~Rin Itoshi~

• Was geuninely dreading the possibility of being the babysitter of your drunk self when he accidentally came late to your little 'outing' with your friends.

• still managed to look all cool and unbothered while coming. What in the actual hell is up with this guy?

• Needless to say, his fears came true. I mean this guy can't even handle having teenagers his age around sometimes.

• So how is he supposed to handle an individual who has lost their sense of coordination because of these shitty drinks?

• Anyway.

• Tries his best not to glare or be too harsh on you in this state, but y'know his nature. Definitely made you cry over the most stupid shit ever.

• "CAN WE TAKE THIS KITTY AT OUR HOME??? I'LL FEED IT- TAKE IT TO A WALK EVERY DAY-"

"No we can't. I have enough of taking care of your stupid ass already."

"YOU'RE SUCH A MEANIE!!!! 😭"

• ...and from that Rin already mentally decided to never EVER let you get this much drunk. Because let's be honest here, his way of communication is 90% of the times with insults.

• Despite his tough exterior, is worried as hell though, like what if you got alcohol poisoning? Please someone remind this guy that three glasses in years doesn't get you that.

• That's why, if you need to throw up or anything, he suprisingly doesn't give you any snarky remarks. Just calmly rubbing your back.

• Kinda knows that he is a screwup when it comes to words, so tries his best with his actions.

~MICHAEL KAISER~

• I'm sorry but Kaiser is another one who laughes at your drunk antics. And definitely in that "you're such an idiot" type of way 😭

• This bastard see what I did there haha I'm so funny, please don't block me🙏🏻 is certainly enjoying this way too much than he should.

• Messes around with you by saying the most random shit, for the sake of his own entertainment.

• Like. You accidentally hit a mail box and then you were apologising to that non-living thing y'know with the bowing all.

• And Michael was like, "Y/n you know this guy here has gotten very hurt because of your hitting?"

"I'M SO SORRY SIR IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN!!!

• When he does all this bullshit in front of Ness, and that guy suggests to just leave ya alone and they their way.

• Kaiser looked at him like he was speaking some kind of sin or something, and like. two hundred percent offended before shooing Ness away.

• Ex-fucking-cuse him, but does he look like the type to leave his girlfriend just like that? Sure he is an asshole, has many mental issues...but not that.

• In case you're wondering, those are the author's words, ya really think he would think all that of himself hm?

• Oh by the way, he read once about the intoxicated state of humans so he's not that hopeless about your situation then as he appears to be.

• Get lots of water, gentle with his movements with you, tries you to get to sleep....yeah. he's not that bad for you.

A/n: The author promises sincerely that she is not high on anything. What in the actual fuck I wrote even I don't know 😭

[inkpot909]

Your Relationship Trope (Bucciarati’s Gang)

↳ Gender Neutral Reader. Takes place after the events of Part 5 in a everyone lives!AU.

A/n: It’s been a while! I had to take some time for personal matters, so sorry for my absence. I wrote something just a tad more breezy to help ease myself back into it; I really missed writing. I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): None.

Giorno Giovanna

-> Love at First Sight

This deeply romantic, cheesy, guy.

Because of how much he prides himself on understanding, and by extension owning, his own thoughts and feelings- he could tell there was something drawing him to you the moment he met you. A gut feeling that he’d really care to know you better; one that he knows better than to ignore.

Good luck trying to hide anything from him yourself, either. He is as good at reading others as he is himself.

Therefore, if you felt immediately drawn to him as well, he’s going to notice. You might not say anything outright or maybe try to bury it deep down… but either way, he can tell.

Not that he minds your affections, of course. Giorno gets into this cheeky habit of dangling the concept of a potential relationship above your head. Just out of reach.

Yes, it’s in part because he wants to tease you. Seeing you grow flustered at his unapologetically forward flirtations… it never gets old.

But Giorno is also a very busy individual.

It’s difficult for him to plan meetups with you, being gone for days on end at times. Even up and leaving at the drop of a hat if the need arises. He takes his position seriously, and has been a rather involved Don since day one.

And Giorno is a sucker for the details, so he won’t make the final push to become official unless it’s the perfect moment.

Luckily for you, he’s a patient guy.

And as mentioned, he can read you like an open book. He knows you’re not looking at other men or women. Keenly aware you’re waiting for him to make some grand gesture.

Some guilt inevitably spawns whenever he gets extra busy, but your happiness at getting to see him again quickly puts those worries to rest for the time being.

All that in due time… after all, if it’s really true love, he is in no desire to rush.

That being said, the people in his inner circle would absolutely like him to rush. Who knows about his feelings for you? Everyone.

That’s not hyperbole, he’s fairly certain everyone around him can tell.

He will never shut up about you. In damn near any situation where it may be appropriate. Not in any situation that it would potentially reach your ears.

Mista himself has commented that he doesn’t know which he would prefer: Giorno before a relationship with you or during. Either way he’s ‘dealing with a lovesick fool.’

Giorno doesn’t care much, already knowing it’s something his closest friends ought to get used to. Confident in himself and what he picks up on.

After all, your smile says what his mind is already thinking.

Bruno Bucciarati

-> Reunited Childhood Friends

Bruno Bucciarati is a man that has stuck with the same haircut and pattern of clothing since he was twelve years old.

Of course he’s still not over you by the time of the inevitable reunion. Like Giorno, he’s definitely a ‘one love’ sort of man.

Getting contacted by you felt like a dream… but it also brought forth initial hesitation.

Due to the specific turn his life took, he had to leave a lot of things behind. Some more regrettable than others… and you were one of his biggest regrets for a long time.

Regardless, his heart won that day- as he agreed to meeting up with you faster than he would care to admit.

The excitement and build up to it after a date was set is a beast in of itself. The prospect of finally seeing you again after all these years fills his chest with a warmth he’s only ever associated with you.

His mind whirls, all his thoughts leading back to the hope that he’ll get to know the person you have matured into.

Your career, hobbies, how your family is doing, the path you’ve been walking down ever since he’d left its course far too long ago… and him praying there’s a distinct lack of a ring on your left hand.

Bruno’s glad to say that his hopes were well-placed. Upon seeing you again, you proved to be just as eager to know how he’s been doing all this time.

Your questions leave him feeling bittersweet; something he knew would happen.

How could he even begin to explain himself? Would he even want to? You deserve more than a short explanation or a lie. But he cannot and will not bring you into gang affairs either. And if he was honest…. where would he even begin?

“I committed murder to protect my father when I was twelve and ended up entangled in gang affairs. Sorry for not giving you a phone call.”

… it needs work, to put it lightly.

He’s not the type to succumb to fear but… it’s difficult not to stress over what you would think of him if he’s completely honest with you. It’s a testament to how deeply special you are to him; hardly ever getting this mentally worked up over anything outside his beloved team.

The push and pull of wanting to be honest with you- yet not wanting to risk putting a target on your back.

Whether it’s due to the years of separation or just the undeserved kindness you offer him, at some point, you admit to only thinking of those old days fondly.

Regardless of being quite startled with his sudden absence in your life, you couldn’t hold it against him. You knew of his parents divorce, and the last thing you had heard, was that Bruno’s father was in the hospital.

At first, he’s just resigns himself into being gratefyl you had it within yourself to forgive him.

But how can he hope to ignore… how lovely of a person you have grown up to be- inside and out. In the long run, it just doesn’t happen. His feelings truly snowballing for the first time in years.

Suddenly, he feels like a foolish child again. Only now, he must be doing something right because you could cause traffic to stop with the way you start to look at him.

There’s a warm nostalgia to you. Someone who knows him; truly knows him. Outside of his work and the contradictions he over for it for years.

And it gets to a point where Bruno resolves he must tell you how he feels. And by then, he won’t dally.

You’re back in his life again, and he’s sure as hell not leaving. Especially not without expressing his feelings.

Only took him short of nine years.

Leone Abbacchio

-> ‘We’re Just Coworkers’

He doesn’t necessarily meet people outside Passione, not one to go out of his way to seek companionship.

He has the team. He has Bucciarati. There isn’t much he wants, or feels like he can, ask for.

It’s because of this that you both are most likely to meet through the organization.

And there’s no doubt that Abbacchio is… apathetic to your position in the gang at first.

Now, he’s not as harsh on you as he was comparatively to Giorno. You’re not a fifteen year old with a savior complex and a tendency to act with a sort of righteous grandeur.

So, in short, you’re already doing great as far as he’s concerned.

Not that he warms up to you quickly; quite the opposite. Weeks will pass before he starts to slowly accept and involve you in any meaningful capacity. A guy like him just needs time to get used to someone so new to him… lots and lots of time.

Once that need has been met, he figures you’re alright.

Not bad company- in or out of Passione business. Far favorable to other people around him, as far as he’s concerned. He finds that you’re much better to converse with than Mista or Fugo.

It’s in his nature to compare a little bit, so when he starts seeing you from a fairer perspective… that’s when a quiet appreciation forms.

Alas, his heart is not as immovable as he likes believing it to be.

Over time, the two of you start to metaphorically lean on one another.

It starts off professionally enough, relying on one another in the heat of battle. Then, it gets to a more personal level- quieter conversations maintained between the two of you beneath the usual noise of the others interacting just a foot or two away.

Still, you two only work together. It’s professional. Without question. At least, that’s the case if Abbacchio or you are asked about it directly.

But the others are oh-so-quick-to-point-out that him letting you crash on his bed during particularly exhausting nights is not exactly platonic behavior. Nor is just how sucked into conversations the two of you get, or how much time you spend one-on-one.

And Abbacchio is nothing if not the type to do the exact opposite of what everyone says.

He’s going to deny it for months. Hell, years if you let him.

Never mind the fact the two of you already act like a couple. Getting ‘mistaken’ as one when going out, regardless if it’s just the two of you or not. Each time, you’re both insistent that you’re merely work friends.

It would be ten times more frustrating if there wasn’t any truth to it that neither of you are prepared to admit to.

It takes a healthy amount of whack cartoonish logic for things to finally fall into place. Being locked in a small room for twenty minutes, or possibly an accidental kiss to the lips… that sort of thing.

Guido Mista

-> Coffee Shop Regular

Mista likes the simple things in life, no doubt.

There’s many ways that fact manifests. One example is that he often wanders around the city in order to check out local businesses. Diners, secondhand stores, and little coffee shops. He knows the area well, and likes sparking up conversations with the people he comes across.

And a cute worker at one of his favorite coffee shops? Makes his day even better, he’d figure.

He was already a regular at your place of employment long before you were hired. Meaning, when he saw a new face behind the counter, he had to offer a hello with a relaxed smile on his face.

And to his credit, it was incredibly easy to like him.

The type of customer who’s always in a decent mood, not too impatient, and always knowing what he wanted to order long before walking in.

Sprinkle in a pleasant ‘hello’ or a lighthearted joke every now and then, and he starts to notice your face brightening every time he enters the shop.

He won’t argue against the idea it fills him with something far deeper than pride.

Beyond finding you initially attractive, he considers you a good worker. He cannot imagine being a barista is always easy, but he’d care to point out that you make it look easy. You know his order by memory after a while, and conversation with you comes naturally.

And soon, the workplace barrier is finally shattered. Happening so casually it was practically thoughtless.

One day, Mista walked into the store just when you were sent on a break. He greeted you as always, and offered to sit with you while you decompressed with a cup of coffee of your own.

That’s when he’d say that something a bit more concrete formed. More real, past the relationship of worker and patron.

And he grows unapologetically forward by then too.

He’s not the type to hit on you at work, but certainly not above blatantly asking for your number after he felt it may be appropriate to do so.

He finds it to be a casual and natural progression, something that is in his nature to embrace.

Like Giorno, though, he’ll drag out the time before asking you out just in order to tease you. He doesn’t automatically figure out that you might be into him, but he’ll get the hint by the time you two start calling one another regularly.

He’s not easily affected by the others teasing him over you, either. He openly admits that he’s into you, why get embarrassed?

Now, if someone makes a comment about it in front of you, then he’ll get flustered. An emotion expressed through frustration and defensiveness.

Regardless of that, it’s such a relaxed progression that at some point he thinks meeting you may have been fate. There’s a ton of coffee shops all around Naples, yet you chose to work at one of the small handful he regularly likes visiting.

If his life is predetermined, like he believes it is, then he’s grateful fate is on his side.

Pannacotta Fugo

-> Friends to Lovers

This man looks at someone with a view on love like Giorno and scoffs with distain.

The notion of ‘love at first sight’ is one that is only entertained by foolish and idealistic individuals, according to Fugo. Rolling his eyes, a scoff escaping his lips… he thinks that mindset is ridiculous and is unafraid to express it.

Hell, romantic relationships aren’t even on his radar in general.

He doesn’t look down on or think negatively of anyone in one, of course. But it’s hardly ever on his mind. Focused on Passione and the team he is proud to be a part of.

And that doesn’t change one bit upon meeting you.

As usual, such a thing doesn’t cross his mind once. The prospect of a potential new ally and friend is the only one he cares to ponder, even if you start off on the right foot. He’s a little distant, but polite and fair enough to give you a chance.

Good thing he did to, as far as hindsight is concerned.

A funny individual and someone who hardly ever makes him want to flip a table? He’s glad to call you his friend once a foundation of trust is established.

If he thinks about it, he’d have to admit to himself there’s something very earnest and warm about the relationship.

You’re a good conversationalist, he respects your intelligence, and even silence around you is comfortable.

More than that, you’re reliable. Stress doesn’t come quite as easy whenever you’re around. And when it does, you understand him. You know just what to say and how to say it. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to express the same kindness.

He starts thinking of you when you’re not around, especially when he’s alone. Thinking of anything from a fond or humorous memory, or simply the curve of your smile.

Oh… oh no.

Tackling his own growing feelings is a lengthy process. He wasn’t interested in seeking out a partner, but he catches feelings before he even realizes it.

And figuring out your feelings on the matter? Forget it.

He won’t say a thing unless you make a move yourself, too wary to even admit he could realistically do something himself. A fact the others are quite keen on reminding him of.

His insecurity won’t last forever, though.

Being around you is such a joy that it’s hard to get trapped in his own mind in the moment. That smile on your face, and sentences leaving your lips in the familiar tones of your voice…

You are his friend first and foremost; someone he feels he can really talk to and trust.

And that’s why you turn out to be everything he didn’t know he’d ever hope for.

Narancia Ghirga

-> Will They, Won’t They?

Giorno is going to start making Narancia pay for his therapy appointments. Abbacchio once made a sarcastic remark about wanting to start drinking again because of this. Mista has given Narnacia approximately twenty three lectures over the subject. Fugo is pulling his hair out.

And really, who can blame any of them?

Having to watch you and Narancia interact on a regular basis is a frustrating experience- to put it lightly.

That feeling only heightened by the fact that it’s something no one feels as though they can even comment directly on whenever you and Narancia are both around. Simply swallowing any words bubbling to the surface.

All this to say, Narancia falls for you quickly and he falls hard.

At first, there wasn't a single complaint to be had from anyone on the team. On the contrary, the others took the time to hype him up with wide smiles and pats on his back.

Narancia himself is excited to be experiencing something as genuinely sweet and grounded as a crush, and that elation was contagious.

But then a couple weeks pass... then a month... then another month... then another....

If the others were a smidge more invasive, they would've just pushed you two in front of one another yelling 'to just get on with it already' months ago.

Specifically Fugo, who actively lets it get to him in a way that Narancia merely huffs at. Sometimes offering a noncommittal response if he feels it’s necessary.

It doesn't matter how much his former tutor gets on his case, Narancia’s not budging. A light blush present on his face when he insists for the hundredth time that there's no way you could possibly feel the same.

Your own friends go through a very similar situation on the other end of things.

Similarly with someone like Abbacchio, the two of you act like a couple far before anything is set in stone. Unlike him, it's less causal and downright mind-boggling to the people around you.

Your legs lazily draped over his lap, going on drives that last for hours at a time, one barely ever seen without the other, and talking about each other constantly.

The latter became so frequent that Giorno once had to pull Narancia aside and tell him to stop mentioning you at Passione meetings.

Narancia has to bit his lip just to stop himself, but he manages. Much to the Don’s relief- never wanting to have that kind of conversation with a friend again.

Giorno cannot and won't try to control him outside of work, though, so it was merely half the battle.

Not that Narancia particularly minds the others' reactions to it very much.

Months into his affections and he's gotten used to the constant stream of teasing. Besides, he lies to himself figures that maybe they're just jealous. He wouldn’t blame them if that’s the case, finding you as special as any person can be.

Regardless of what anyone says, the sweetness is there.

An amusement to be had over how truly clueless the both of you are, despite interacting with flushed faces and stuttering words. It’s sweet, then annoying to the point where it circles around to being funny.

But you and Narancia retreat into your own little world where all of that melts away. He’s loyal, and since you hold his heart, it would be an understatement to say you’re just important to him.

Who will give in and admit the crush first? It's up in the air.

[utilitycaster]

I like that the Raven Queen, who made the decision to take on an immense and (at least to her understanding at the time) unending responsibility is the one who calls Bells Hells out on their endless indecision.

It's been...interesting, shall we say, tracking this "party of NPCs," and tracking the fandom response throughout. The initial reception to "party of NPCs" was actually a rather cold one. This took place early in the campaign, prior to the Gnarlrock fight, and at the time a lot of people who shipped Imogen and Laudna were actually extremely resistant to the idea that Imogen was the "main character" of the campaign (as seen in the fallout from the gnarlrock fight, in which the bulk of attacks from the fandom were on Imogen). I've had complicated feelings on Taliesin's reads of this campaign specifically - he tends to have a very good understanding of his own characters that doesn't necessarily expand beyond them - but that phrase was indeed pretty valid. I think about the WBN interludes, in fact, in which the cast plays using NPC statblocks, and what a true party of NPCs for Bells Hells would look like, since it would be quite simple to draw up.

Allied NPCs in TTRPGs rarely act without guidance from the PCs. I've cast a critical eye in the past towards certain meta (particularly romantic in nature, regarding Yeza or Essek or Gilmore not making moves) for this reason, because while villains and antagonists move throughout the world generating obstacles, allies exist to be directed. They have their limits, of course; they have their own priorities and motivations and cannot be persuaded against their nature, but they can be guided at oblique angles from the GMs initial intent given enough work from the PCs. They're still people with thoughts and feelings and dreams, to an extent, but rarely do they make decisions that would conflict with those of the PCs.

That's the problem with a party of NPCs. NPCs take direction. They serve as support, but they're not in the driver's seat. And the Raven Queen has noticed.

The attitude within the fandom towards "Party of NPCs" became far more positive over time, and I wonder if it should have. People began to lean perhaps too heavily on how Bells Hells were people from nothing and nowhere, discarded. This is of course objectively false when comparing across parties (can we really say Imogen had a worse childhood than Vex? Chetney to Caleb? Even Ashton to Fjord?) but were it true, that in and of itself wouldn't be a problem. D&D backstories are often tear-stained and blood-soaked, full of unjust accusations, dead or neglectful parents, failure and regret. D&D is a game about coming from very little but a disproportionately good stat block for a commoner. It is unavoidably about amassing power. Starting off as a party of NPCs is fine. You should not still be a party of NPCs at the endgame.

I mentioned the gnarlrock, and I've mentioned an emphasis (or overemphasis) on this party's lack of agency and I think that remains the problem. Ludinus's villainy is rich, complex, and multifaceted, but a consistent element of it is his eternal false insistence that he - Martinet, founder and head of the Cerberus Assembly, Archmage - is just a little guy, chaff in the wind of the will of the gods, without free will of his own (he says, as he places his thread outside the reach of the Matron). That too is a theme in fandom discourse: free will and intent. Is Imogen justified in being angry at Laudna for breaking the rock if that wasn't Laudna's intent? (yes.) Is Orym on a quest of vengeance, with a death wish? (no, but if he were it wouldn't matter.) Was it wrong to pressure Fearne to take the shard instead of letting her make her own choices? (yes.)

Did any of you, perhaps in preschool or kindergarten, since that's about the age when this happens, have someone pull your hair and for adults to say "it's because they like you?" I find this is a good way to convey the importance, or unimportance, or intent. Because when your hair is being pulled, at least if that is the extent of the problem, it doesn't matter if it comes from the misguided affections of a four-year-old admirer who doesn't know how to use their words, or a six-year-old who just grabbed the most obvious material with which to test the limits of the safety scissors, or an eleven-year-old bully. Your hair is being pulled and you want it to stop. It doesn't matter if the person secretly likes you or if they want to hurt you; it matters that no matter the intent behind it, they are doing so. And if you reject the affections of your fellow preschool classmate because you think they might pull your hair, that's a fair consequence.

Bells Hells' indecision is some sort of cosmic hair pulling. They have reasons for faltering, and some of those reasons are understandable balking at an immense weight placed upon them and some of those reasons come from a deeply self-centered place in which their individual pain is used to blot out the suffering of countless others. But in the end, even that doesn't matter. Their histories don't matter. We don't need another series of introductions of where they come from and what they've done. We need people who can make decisions and who will act.

The Raven Queen seems to have been convinced they will. I'm not sure. But I think we are in agreement that inaction is, regardless of the intent behind it, no different than active harm. It would be irresponsible to continue to be a party of NPCs; if they truly are lost and forgotten fuck-ups, they have a responsibility (as the god of death once did) to abdicate and find a replacement.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Paralyzed

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Warnings: Cussing, Mattheo being an idiot

I know this is off of my normal schedule, but I finally got to my pc, so have this fic I wrote a few days ago.

You, you walked into the room

On a Friday afternoon

That's when I saw you for the first time

And I was paralyzed

Mattheo was in the library with a few of his friends, not even studying anymore. They were messing around, talking and laughing, drawing on their parchment, throwing things at each other. But they were in a rather secluded corner of the library, so they weren't bothering everyone.

Movement in his peripheral vision caught Mattheo's attention. He turned his head to see you looking through one of the aisles of books. He had never seen you before. You were gorgeous and it had Mattheo sitting up straight, fixing his hair and tuning out the other boys.

The other boys didn't take much notice, Mattheo would tune out and stare off into space sometimes, so they didn't give it much thought.

He watched as you tried to grab a book off a shelf a bit higher than you could reach. His first thought was to go over and help you, but his body wouldn't move. Like he was…nervous?

You felt your pockets, presumably for your wand, but you forgot it and sighed, pouting slightly for a second before turning to their table. Mattheo quickly looked away as you walked over.

“Can one of you guys help me? I can't reach a book I need and I forgot my wand.” You asked the table sweetly and it had Mattheo's stomach fluttering with how sweet your voice was to him.

I had a million things to say

But none of them came out that day

'Cause I was never one of those guys

That always had the best lines

Mattheo wanted to say ‘yes’ and help you, but the words died in his throat as he opened his mouth, and now his mouth felt suddenly dry.

“Of course, (Y/N).” Enzo said as he stood up with that stupid charming smile of his.

That prick led you back to the book with a hand on your back.

Mattheo slumped back in his seat as he watched you smile back at Lorenzo, thanking him for grabbing the book for you before walking away from him. Enzo came back to the table, sitting back down.

Time stopped ticking

My hands keep shaking

And you don't even know that

“Who is that?” Mattheo asked him after you disappeared out of view.

Enzo smiled, catching on immediately. “That's (Y/N). They're in one of my classes. They're very sweet.”

“I've never seen them before.” Mattheo said, looking back to where you disappeared for a moment before looking back down to his drawing on his parchment, pretending to be interested in drawing again.

I try to speak, but girl you got me tongue-tied

I try to breathe but I'm f-f-f-frozen inside

I try to move but I'm stuck in my shoes

You got me paralyzed, paralyzed, p-p-p-paralyzed

I see you walking, but all you do is pass me by

Can't even talk, 'cause words don't come into my mind

I'd make a move if I had the guts to

But I'm paralyzed, paralyzed, p-p-p-paralyzed

Enzo and Theo took the initiative to introduce you two. They invited you to one of their parties, where the boys were all at now.

Theo was the first one to spot you when you arrived. He left the group to talk to you, smiling, trying to charm you to follow him over to the group. You gladly followed him and Mattheo spotted the two of you coming over and quickly sat up straight in the chair he was lounging in, putting out the cigarette he was smoking on the table in front of him.

Theodore quickly introduced you to everyone who didn't know you, saving Mattheo for last.

You smiled at him. “Hi, Mattheo.” You said and damn, if your voice wasn't the sweetest thing he ever heard, especially the way you said his name.

He opened his mouth to say ‘hi’ back but it came out super quiet.

“Are you alright?” You asked him when you couldn't hear him over the music.

His mouth felt all dry again, so he just nodded.

Now I learned a lot from my mistake

Never let a good thing slip away

I've had a lot of time to look back

And my only regret is

Not telling you what I was going through

But you didn't even know that

I try to speak but girl you got me tongue-tied

I try to breathe but I'm f-f-f-frozen inside

I try to move but I'm stuck in my shoes

You got me paralyzed, paralyzed, p-p-p-paralyzed

You talked with the group, smiling and laughing at what they said. Mattheo was quiet, looking over at you whenever you laughed and spoke up. He wanted to make you laugh so bad, but he was finding it difficult to talk with you there.

How was everyone else talking to you so calmly?

He was going to have to look for a spell or potion to help him with this weird feeling around you.

As soon as you walked away to go talk to some of your friends, Theo hit him in the back of the head.

“Ow, what the fuck was that for?” Mattheo said, rubbing the spot Theo hit.

“Why didn’t you talk to them?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because you were ogling them in the library a few days ago. We thought you liked them!” Enzo spoke up, throwing his hands in the air.

Mattheo scoffed. “I said ‘hi’.”

“Fucking idiot.” The two boys rolled their eyes.

I see you walking, but all you do is pass me by

Can't even talk, 'cause words don't come into my mind

I'd make a move if I had the guts to

But I'm paralyzed, paralyzed, p-p-p-paralyzed

The party didn't help at all and now you probably thought he was weird for how quiet he was. He was so stupid, just looking at you and smiling, sometimes laughing at what you said. And fuck, you were so funny and smart to him, it made it all worse. He felt like an idiot next to you.

He saw you around the castle more. Maybe he did see you in passing sometimes, but now he actually noticed you. He saw you walking with your friends between classes and he wanted to say ‘hi’, let you know he acknowledges you, at least.

But you'd see him first and give him a bright smile and all the thoughts in his head disappeared. It was like he forgot how to speak around you. So he would give a small nod before hurrying away to wherever he was going.

Merlin, why was he such an idiot?

As the years go by I think about you all the time, whoa

If I get the chance I hope I won't be paralyzed, paralyzed by you

You walked into the room

On a Friday afternoon

It had been a few months of this dynamic. You being your sweet self, hanging out with him and his friends more, and him barely speaking but smiling and laughing.

The other boys caught on and would question him, but he'd always refuse to answer, even though the boys already knew the problem.

You made him flustered. You made him shy.

And the boys ate it up every time, enjoying seeing their normally loud, obnoxious, and confident friend turn into a shy, stuttering mess around you.

I try to speak but girl you got me tongue-tied

Only problem was, you took it the opposite way.

I try to breathe but I'm f-f-f-frozen inside

I try to move but I'm stuck in my shoes

You got me paralyzed, paralyzed, p-p-p-paralyzed (you got me paralyzed)

I see you walking, but all you do is pass me by

Can't even talk, 'cause words don't come into my mind

I'd make a move if I had the guts to

But I'm paralyzed, paralyzed, p-p-p-paralyzed (you got me paralyzed)

Mattheo was smoking in the courtyard with Theo while Enzo was sitting by them, all three talking and messing around.

You noticed them. You always noticed how Mattheo was a lot louder and more playful when you weren't around. It made you feel like he didn't like you.

If only you knew it was quite the opposite.

You finally walked over to them, your shoes clicking on the pavement as you approached, making them all look over to you, but your eyes were only on Mattheo.

His eyes went wide when he realized that, watching you walk up to him until you were a few feet away from him.

“Do you hate me?” You asked him, ignoring the other two boys.

He let out a nervous laugh. “Wh-what?”

“Do you hate me? You, like, never talk to me. It's always short answers. You won't even say ‘hi’ to me when we pass each other in the halls. Why?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

He tried getting some words out, stumbling over the syllables before clearing his throat. “I-I don't-I don't hate you. I just-I mean, um…” Shit, his mouth went dry again.

“Mattheo. Can you just answer me for once?” You said.

Paralyzed, paralyzed, you got me tongue-tied

Paralyzed, paralyzed, now I'm frozen inside

Paralyzed, paralyzed

You got me paralyzed, paralyzed, p-p-p-paralyzed

His head dropped and you could hear a small ‘fuck’ under his breath before he sighed, looking back up at you again. “I…I don't hate you. I just…” He looked around, sighing out his nose again. “I…like you.” The way he said it seemed like he was having a hard time saying it.

“You like me?” You repeated.

“I just mean, I don't hate you. I-I think you're sweet.” He said, finally looking back at you.

“You think I'm sweet?” You asked, smiling ever so slightly.

That small smile had him blushing and looking back down.

“Yeah.” His eyes flickered up to you briefly before looking back at the cigarette burning in his hand.

“That's all I wanted to know.” You said before smiling a little more. “Have fun, boys.” You said before practically skipping away.

Mattheo watched you walk away, opening his mouth to stop you before shutting it with a groan.

The two other boys laughed at him and he rolled his eyes.

“Shut up.” He said before taking another puff of his cigarette.

[sanzaibian]

Congrats on 1,000! I was hoping you could give me a haircut! I always wondered what if look like with a pompadour or soemthing like that

“Welcome to the normal barbershop ! Thank you for choosing our service !” You are welcomed as soon as you set foot inside the building. “You will be accompanied by Rilaj Mam, an associate of Dr. Davod, who is known for having studied all sorts of arts of the hair. - Please call me Rilaj, using mam makes me feel old !” A voice is being heard from further inside the shop. - Sorry, but it’s in your namecard !”

As those two bicker, you approach the place where this mysterious man is, and find a quite small man, dark-skinned, folded eyes, and silky black hair arranged in a man bun – although the rest of the head is flawlessly shaved down to the skin. He wears colorful clothes, including a big bandana, and presumably the large hat and the pair of sunglasses that have been put down on the counter, all hiding what your trained eyes recognize as a ripped body.

But when you come just a little but closer, that short guy, presumably Rilajn suddenly turns to you – almost looking up to you – and smiles, full of kindness, though there is a tinge of malice behind his pitch black eyes.

“No matter ! I now have work to attend to !” He finishes the bickering, before addressing you. “I was waiting for you ! Please take place on this seat !”

You oblige, finding the seat to be extremely comfortable, much more than most barbershops you’ve ever been to. Almost too comfortable, considering this shop is temporary, after all… However, you’re here to relax and change hairstyles. Your hair has grown quite a lot since last time, and it’s about time you arrange it up. And trying a new style is just the cherry on top.

“So…” Rilaj, the barber, starts, coming with a bottle full of a weird black substance. “I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that… your hair is way too short to make a good enough pompadour. You should have come in like… two months or three to have enough length to do what you wanted.”

You look at him disappointed. As if to prove it, he takes a strand of hair from the very front of your mop and drops it down your face, only reaching the base of your nose. And this shop is going to be closed by the time you grow enough hair, so although you can always come to another later, shelling out money for what is simply a bit of a silly tryout feels pointless.

“However, the good news is that I have a way to make a great pompadour thanks to my very special technique. So… are you interested ?” The barber offers with a malicious voice.

Still taken by your disappointment, you don’t think much and, foolishly, you agree immediately. You see his smile grow, as you are regretting having agreed so quickly while not considering what this technique is.

“Great ! Well, we shall start with a bit of trimming, no ? ‘Cause your hair might not be long enough, but it still needs shaping for this new cut !”

He draws out clippers and installs on it quite a big guard. Then, he turns it on, and starts mowing at your hair, tufts of it dropping from the sides of your head. His cutting style is quite peculiar, though, using the clippers only bit by bit, tuft by tuft, as if he was cutting with scissors. However, when he has finished one side of your head, continuing by working on the back, letting yet more strands of hair fall, you notice that the result is very regular, with each hair the exact same short size.

Somehow, that unorthodox technique works, and you are left with a great and very soft carpet of hair – which you were able to feel once he put down the clippers. Then, he draws out some scissors, of which one side is shaped in a sort of comb-like structure. He explains to you how it will make your hair less dense, which will make it easier to style, and better able to receive the special technique.

As he chops down some hairs on top, making the remainder of the mop lighter, you notice how silent he is throughout the whole ordeal. Although he seems like quite a jovial guy, even quite chatty at times, he doesn’t seem to be like other barbers, pulling you into discussions about what you did recently, or other mundanities. But looking at his pitch black eyes, matching his pitch black hair, you feel a weird sense of… tiredness ? coming from him. You can’t quite describe it, but as is always said : the eyes are the door to the soul. And behind the eyes you feel a truly ancient soul.

“That’s about it ! Now we’re coming to the good stuff !” Rilaj suddenly pulls you out of your thoughts. “Let me just show you…”

He takes the bottle of black stuff in his hands, and presents it to you through the mirror, before uncapping it.

“This is what I call nuuch’ay ! Don’t try searching it, you won’t see anything about it on the web. It’s an old tradition from my people, forgotten today, but that is very potent.”

He starts dropping it on your hair. It has a very slimy texture, and drops slowly. Looking at its pitch black but slightly shiny form, it almost looks like rubber… Once the bottle is fully emptied out, he puts it away on the counter. You look at it and notice a label, on which there is something written. You can’t understand it, the letters spell words you haven’t seen anywhere, but you do note that the handwriting is very neat and elaborate. It’s the kind of style that would belong in a historical document.

“Now, let me just rub it all in, and then I’ll be able to… pull your hair out of your head, let’s put it like that.”

You are quite disturbed by this. As he is spreading the black goo, you’re wondering about what kinds of irreversible damage it would make to your hair… if it’s pulling out your hair, won’t it damage the follicles ? Destroy your hair, and making go bald when the hair inevitably drop ? But as you’re considering whether to flee as a matter of precaution, you find that you’re actually unable to move. You look at his eyes… still a deep, deep black hole…

You are now trapped.

Concentrated, Rilaj starts, as promised, pulling on your hair. He does it first in the front, and just as he starts pulling, you feel weird… as if he is pulling on other parts of your body. You look at yourself, and aren’t really able to notice anything that has change… but as he suddenly pulls a second time, you feel a bit weird in your belly.

He pulls once again. You feel… tighter, as if the flab that you had been accumulating over the years was being… pulled back. Another pull. This time, you feel weird in your jaw, a weird sense of tingling all over your face… and on point, you notice that, as he pulls another time, there is no more facial hair. If you could draw your hand to your face, you’re sure you would feel it to be all smooth.

He continues pulling, the pain and the tightness being felt on all parts of your body. You look up at your hair, and notice black strands, reaching far higher than they ever have… and they are stood perfectly. It’s a feeling that you’ve never had, and as he pulls yet another time, tightening your body yet again, you feel kind of… hot ? Like, you’re wearing a haircut quite elaborate, your face is devoid of beard… you feel beautiful, and, dare you think, cute !

He continues pulling out your hair, continuing to tighten everything in your body, as he starts combing your new longer hair. The comb goes higher, and higher, your body feels tighter and tighter, until he goes back to the rest of the hair, revealing a big, tall, but not obnoxious pompadour.

The definition of beauty and hotness.

And as he finishes combing the rest, the barber looks at you, smiling from a well done job, just like you are from a wonderful haircut. You are enamored by the pomp, so much that you fail to realize how big your clothes now are on you. You want to feel it, you want to touch it… but before you can make your hand reach, not even registering how you’re suddenly able to move, Rilaj blocks your arm.

“No, you can’t touch it just yet. It needs to dry up a little bit more before you can, else you will mess everything up.”

Dry ? You do as said, but that use of words does throw you for a loop. And your barber notice, since he then adds a few precisions.

“See, the nuuch’ay is derived from rubber, and we need to let it dry a bit before it can keep its shape. I have variants that dry a lot faster, but for hair, only this one gives out good results.”

Of course ! It’s rubber ! You knew it ! Especially now that you look again at your pitch black and slightly shiny pompadour, the same color as the short guy’s man bun. He goes to fiddle with his tools, putting away the comb, scissors and clippers, and drawing out another bottle full of that black thing… “nootcheye”, was it ? Whatever, that rubber thing he put on your head.

Feeling he was finishing up, you feel like it’s appropriate for you to stand back up… but just when you are in a vertical position, you feel something dropping. You look below, your pants and your underwear are on the ground, your shirt being the only thing still hanging on, although it is by now only hovering around your body.

You cry in shock, drawing the attention of the barber, who smiles, almost mocking you – though you don’t feel anything truly mean about it.

“Oops ! I guess I didn’t consider that law from that one smart French guy – what was his name… Lavoisier ? yeah, Lavoisier’s law of conservation of matter.” He half-mocks, sticking out his tongue.

You glare at him, growing angry.

“Okay, okay, don’t need to be this upset ! I was going to explain how the nuuch’ay works before you left anyway !” He throws his hands up in surrender. “Basically, it’s just stretching your body so that the hair is higher, so it had to take mass from somewhere else – that somewhere being your fat, mostly. « The nuuch’ay is currently keeping your body stretched, meaning that you will stay like that for quite a while. However, once it completely dries up, it will crack and then your body will go back to normal, whence why I couldn’t use the instantly drying up nuuch’ay.”

He starts helping you out of your shirt, revealing a lithe body, one that you hadn’t seen since early puberty. Although you can see muscles, they lack any definition, and are only revealed by the low amount of body fat you now have. By all definitions, you can now call yourself a definite twink. No matter how much of one you already were, by now there is no mistake, with how hairless and skinny you are.

“It should last about a month or two, I didn’t check when I made this bottle, but if you want to end it early, you have to warm your hair up with, for example, a perming machine.” He continues to explain, as he starts uncapping his other bottle of ‘nootcheye’. “But until then, your hair will stay exactly like this, no matter how much you squeeze it, wash it, or mess it up !”

As if to prove his point, he squeezes down your pompadour, and as he removes his hand it bounces back into place, as if nothing had happened. Bewildered, you let your hand reach your hair, messing it up in more and more extreme ways, but like rubber, it always gets back to its place. It just feels… surreal.

“By the way, we don’t have any spare clothes for you – all the spare are made for bigger people – so I will use this bottle to create clothes. Don’t worry, I have great taste.”

He pours the bottle of nuuch’ay he had in his hands, and it spreads over all your body, from your neck down to your feet, creating a big, black, shiny jumpsuit. But as it settles, red accents and multiple crevasses appear, until it has formed into a kind of black leathery tunic, one that you would more readily see in fetish publications than in the street.

But you love it.

And under the smile of Rilaj Mam who artfully wanders out of the field of view, you take a photo to commemorate that new hairstyle, that new shiny black pompadour.

But before you go out of the barbershop, after having collected your bag and your unfortunately big clothes, Rilaj stops you.

“Sorry to bother you, but could you grant me a favor ?” He draws out a short red cigarette. “I found that thing when I went to Tokyo a few weeks ago, and I think your uncle might be interested in it.”

You look at him shocked when he suddenly mentions your uncle – especially knowing the unfortunate fate he suffered.

“Now, don’t make this face. I knew who you were ever since I saw your name booking this haircut, that’s the reason I chose to cut your hair. That guy at the welcome desk can attest that I’m very selective with my clients.” You hear a frustrated ‘yes’ from far away. “But if you have any questions, ask them to him, I won’t say anything he doesn’t want me to. After all, he is the only one who has the right to answer them...”

Hearing his tone, it feels as if he wanted you to ask questions to your uncle… Does he feel smart for trying to so blatantly manipulate you ? Or does he realize that you can’t ask questions to your uncle and expect a coherent answer anymore ?

“And, seriously, don’t use that cigarette. You saw how potent the nuuch’ay is, and this is more insidious. On that, send my regards to your uncle. Xtiqaatz’at chik na qii’.”

Without waiting for you to react, he leaves out the door, leaving more questions than answers.

[anonymousaccountuser]

Okay. I watched Lupin Zero a while back and I’m losing my goddamn MIND over the metaphor of Lupin, a thief, stealing Jigen’s heart. It has been MONTHS and it plagues my mind still. I’m practically tearing my hair out.

Like… Imagine you are a boy. A lonely boy, a boy who’s been hurt his entire life, a boy who was given a gun at the age of five and taught to kill mercilessly without hesitation. You’re constantly told you’re not good enough, that nobody will ever want you for you, that you’ll only ever be a weapon; you’re worth nothing more than that, nothing less. The more skill you have, the more value you hold; if you do a job well you’ll be worth something, if you fail you’ll probably get beat or tossed out, considered less than dirt by your own shitty father. You’re not a boy, not really. You’re a gun, and the minute you miss a shot you’re worthless. You learn that no, you can’t be a kid—being a kid is not for you. You don’t have time for stupid birthday parties or immature little kid games when you’re too busy fighting in war zones or getting shot at in Cambodia. You teach yourself not to feel; remorse and regret are pointless when you’re a hitman, and so is love—you never have childhood crushes or fancy any of the pretty girls at your school. You think it’s stupid. You’ve never been interested in girls anyway, and your father once threatened to shoot you if you ever tried the alternative, so you lock your heart away, stuff it into a box and cram it into a safe and set fifty different code-combination locks and wrap chains around it so that you can’t feel.

And then one day, some skinny rich kid with sticky fingers shows up, and just won’t leave you alone. Okay, you think to yourself. No biggie. He’s just some spoiled brat with too much time on his hands who doesn’t know what he’s getting into. But then this kid starts treating you like you’re worth something, like you’re some sort of treasure he values, something he wants to chase; and not for your quick draw, either. This monkey-faced little brat seems to only want to know more about you, and play stupid kid games with you. He’s annoying, but the trouble he gets into is fun enough, even if you always end up having to bail him out. You find out that this kid is a thrill-seeker, and much to your surprise, he considers you thrilling. You’ve never had friends before, but this feels like something else. The way he looks at you makes your stomach fuzzy with a feeling you’re not entirely sure what to think of, and no matter how many times you walk away you always find yourself drawn to him. You’re reminded of what your father threatened to do at that, so you tuck that feeling away with all the others.

But then, this bastard “friend” of yours does something you never expected; he chips away at the walls you’ve built, carefully picks the locks holding chains around your heart with nimble, practiced fingers. He pries at that safe of yours like it’s fun, like it’s some sort of challenge for him (he likes challenges, you’ve come to find) and finds out those combinations of yours with thieving expertise. And then, as if none of your past matters, as if all those thousands of walls of defence you built and security lasers you set and safety precautions you took are absolutely nothing to him, he reaches forward and places a skinny hand over your chest and takes what he wants, like he’s always done. He holds you in the palm of his hand like you’re something precious, a valued piece of artwork in a renowned museum that he’s taken the liberty of nabbing, and you let him. You let him steal you like some pretty piece of jewelry. You let him pull you from the shitty life you live with that shitty dad of yours and steal you away, even though you’re scared out of your mind of intimacy. You’re alone in the dark of that cramped little safe that you’ve locked yourself away in your entire life, and he picks the lock with a bobby pin and reaches for you and grabs your hand; and then suddenly, you’re not so alone anymore. Suddenly you’re more than a gun, you’re Jigen Daisuke, and Lupin the Third wants you like he would a priceless ruby on display in the hall of a rich man’s mansion.

DO YOU SEE MY VISION, PEOPLE??!? DO YOU SEE IT!!?!1!?