#this is the sort of nonsense they deserve at this point

[sodiumchloridecat]

Just an honest question based on the information at hand…

[tottentz]

HOUSE ADVENTAGE .ᐟ ── honkai star rail. ❛ i know you want me, baby ❜ 🗝 ﹢を ˒ㅤ ft. aventurine, dr. ratio, boothill, jing yuan, sunday, jiaoqiu.

𓆩♡𓆪 WARNINGS ! mdni. reader has no pronouns but afab anatomy is used, slight dumbification, unprotected sex, fingering ( boothill ), handjob ( aventurine ), facefucking & hair pulling ( dr. ratio ), facesitting ( jing yuan ), a little bit of spit, kinda possesive sunday, marking ( jiaoqiu ), size difference, begging, orgasm delay, a bit of angst on aventurine's part, as he is a little self-destructive. ���ˎˊ˗ ֶָ֢⊹𐙚 DESCRIPTION ! their little obsessions with their favorite parts of your body.

mature content ahead + please take care of yourself before proceeding !

𝐢.ㅤ ㅤDR. RATIOㅤㅤ ❛ㅤㅤ your mouth.

your mouth can be both a curse and a blessing.

is just that sometimes you don't stop talking nonsense.

veritas' thumb touches your mouth. you don't speak, don't have to. you part your lips without being asked, letting Veritas inside to press on your tongue. 

"good," you get for your efforts. another chill ripples down your spine. veritas traces your teeth, pressing on the points as if to test their sharpness. and you stay still, holding your mouth open even when veritas pulls his hand back. fingers under your chin. you are tipped up a bit more, then veritas hooks his thumb over your bottom row of teeth and pulls your mouth open wider. 

"you gonna fuck me now?" you ask, try to. does your voice always sounded like that? desperate. you whine before nuzzling into the inside of his thigh.

"no, you haven't deserved it yet" he starts, holding your wrist with his free hand and putting your fingers above his thigh. you know that it means if you want me to stop, tap twice, and it makes heat coil in your belly. "you take what i give you or nothing at all."

you want to roll your eyes at him, but the very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. 

he goes slow at first, wanting you to get used with the feeling, you can feel the weight of veritas' gaze. and when you moan, one of your hands still working up and down along veritas' shaft as tears beginning to prickle at the corners of your eyes, his thrusts turn sharp and fast, your jaw aching from how long you had veritas' fat cock in your mouth.

"breathe," he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you've won some sort of award. he narrows his eyes at you, "you can choke all you want, but your impatience is not going to get you anywhere."

before you can even argue again, he's guiding your lips back on him. just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him.

"messy." his sighs echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. when you gag, he moans again.

veritas' thrusts begin to turn erratic as he fucks your mouth, a growl erupting out of him on a particularly hard thrust, and you feel so enlightened, nodding dazedly around his cock before pulling off, tilting your head up and dropping your jaw. 

veritas bends down, smiling at your fucked out face, mascara tracked tears, your spit covered chin, and spits right into your waiting mouth.

"thank you.” you say, as always.

𝐢𝐢.ㅤ ㅤSUNDAYㅤㅤ ❛ㅤㅤ your eyes.

he thinks you are pretty, pretty when you smile, pretty when you cry. after all, they say the eyes are the mirror of the soul, and so, he always do his best to fuck you until everything's hazy and blurry with his blatant desire.

sunday just knows how you feel by the way your eyes roll back he palmed the bend of your knee, pressing the joint by your temple as to ease his strife, and he faltered when you sobbed his name, eagerly arching your tremoring pelvis into his own because he had begun to relentlessly hammer a delicate plot that induced your vision to flicker and blurrily haze with spangled glimmers of hot electricity. 

and, for the third time, sunday slows down, hips flush against your ass he can nudge his cockhead right above your sweet spot, missing it on purpose, because he knows what to do to make your eyes prickle with tears as easy.

"always so good for me," sunday groans, a badgering ache numbed your rational thought, swallowing the sensible and only rational portion of your conscious in a sudden pit of longing. "i've broken you in, haven't i?"

"p-please, sunday— please, please, please let me c-come," you sob, as if all would be lost if the climax you'd been chasing mischievously slipped through your quivering fingertips. "w-wanna cum on your cock, please, ah—" ⠀ ⠀ 

wild pulsations rendered his brain to mush and melted his forefront conscious into a haze of silver lining. you gasp, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck and biting at the untouched skin.

"so pretty when you beg," he compliments. he's just as far off as you. ruby red and temple coated with sweat, sunday is flush and trembling under your hold. "does it feel good, love? say it," sunday commands, but you don't understand, can't understand with your mind being in such a pleasurable haze. he fucks up right in the time he pulls you back down by your waist, downright impaling you on his cock. "say you're mine."

"yours," you repeat, and he bites on your lower lip. you have enough of a mind presence to admire his bulging biceps contorting with your weight, and his huge test firm and sweaty from the effort.

"again," his possessive side gets the best of him, admiring all the marks he has left in your neck. "say it again."

"yours, ah!" a moan breaks at the end of the word, sunday's thrusts getting rougher, faster and there's heat pooling down on your lower stomach. "i'm y-yours, all yours, only yours."

"yes, mine," sunday agrees, and sunday thinks you are a vision like this.

you are looking at him like he's an angel, like a devil he's completely consumed by. you are still clad in your clothes, moving up body up and down, docile and pliant on sunday's cock as if you are nothing but a beloved toy.

"mine." he reachs forward to run his hand down your stomach, under your shirt, his touch soft enough to have you brokenly stuttering. 

drawing his name from your lips, you arched further into the bed as the last of your orgasm shook your weak limbs. his name carried significance. the tenor more than just a lovely echo of your rapture.

𝐢𝐢𝐢.ㅤ ㅤJIAOQIU ㅤㅤ ❛ㅤㅤ your breast.

they are just so soft, and all for him to suck, for him to claim.

"i barely moved and you're already falling apart," jiaoqiu tells you, voice strained from effort but still full of fondness, and you feel butterflies dancing in your stomach at the praise. it seems like he wants his orgasm to ebb away. at the look you're giving him, he adds: "wanna cum with you, yeah?." ⠀ ⠀

you mewl at the thought, watching him position himself between your legs again and kissing you slowly. jiaoqiu caresses your cheek with a gentle thumb, other hand tracing a feather-like path down your body. his fingers brush against your nipple, the whine you let out being swallowed by jiaoqiu's greedy mouth, and he sneaks his hand under your shirt just as his kisses fly to your neck.⠀

and then he's sucking. hard.

your hands fly to his hair, cunt throbbing with need when he tongues at the purple hickey, and it's throbbing, pulsating with how hard he sucked.

"jiaoqiu, fuck," you whimper, body oversensitive with all that has been going on, hand coming to pinch your other nipple like he's telling you how much this affects him. "please—"

jiaoqiu bites at it, tongue coming to soothe the pain later, and you're sure the grip you have on his hair must be painful, but he says nothing; only looks more intent on making you moan. he busies himself with sucking hickeys all over the place as one of his hands continues to descend down your body, thumb pressing in a spot by your hips that has your back arching and a desperate whine being pulled out of you.

you feel warm all over, how he always remembers exactly your pleasure point, the place that has your head spinning with pleasure.

"look at you," his fingers brush the underside of your chin, a few of his fingers cupping the base of your neck as to lift your head from you peripheral and bring it to his forefront visual. "grinding against everything. you're quite the needy thing, aren't you?" tilting your head as if examining a newfound discovery, his hips erratically jerk, and the breathless pants from your mouth divulged your own craving.

you're so responsive in both body and voice, jolting with every thrust, arching sharply, legs spasming like you can't take, but he knows you can.

"fuck me, please" you say, beg, euphoria peaked above its horizon, singeing his goosed skin with excited jolts. "please, want you, wanna feel you—"

humming into the feral abundance of the rough brush of his lips, you can't help but arch against jiaoqiu as he twists and pinches the tender skin of your nipples, and your breath hitches at the feel of his mouth brushing your nipple, whining at the feel of his tongue inching closer to your bud. 

"keep it together now," devouring you with a magnetic gape, your hues inundated, drinking in your flustered disposition. "it would be a pity if i stopped now."

"a pity," you repeat stupidly. in your defense, you feel as if your brain is melting.

he smiles, and deliberately ignoring your request, he decides to take the tip into his mouth wholly to suck, pushing the nip to the rough of his mouth while his other hand tends to the other breast. it looks like you'll have to wait a little longer

𝐢𝐯.ㅤ ㅤBOOTHILLㅤㅤ ❛ㅤㅤ your hips.

he is just a little obssessed with the softness of your skin underneath his cold fingers.

he is always reaching out to you in some way, whether is a hand in your thigh or an arm around your waist. especially if it's to keep you from squirming in his grip.

"hah," he states simply, a sound of pleasant surprise, and adds another finger inside. boothill pushes them to the hilt, until his knuckles brush your pelvis. you moan, head thrown back at the sudden, but welcomed intrusion. "acting all nervous around me but this is exactly what ya wanted, aint'cha?"

your teeth clenched but the effort was momentary as mewls of whimpers parted your lips. your hips eagerly bucked into his working hand, desperately aiding him to reach a depth that would cause your eyes to roll, much like they did when his thump began to swipe fast circles over the aroused bud of your clit.

 “forkin’ wet for me, huh? yer gonna sing pretty for me when ya come on my fingers, yeah?” his lips latched onto the skin of your shoulder, and he worked his away along the base until kissing the incision of flesh that dimpled behind your ear. 

you can't even think straight, hips rising off of the bed, but boothill holds your hips with his free hand and pins them down hard you know will leave bruises. your upper body lifts with this, back arching and legs kicking everywhere as you can't stop the loud moans slipping through your lips.

"s’good, isnt it, baby?," he says, licking against your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, "let me hear you."

he brought his inactive hand to fondle the nipple of your breast, rolling the sensitive bud beneath his fingertips, mindful to place bruising kisses along your neck where deep shapes of his ministrations would be left for you to cover.

"boothill," you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, "want your mouth-please."

he chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot.

"come on my fingers first." he says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked.

you roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. he moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath.

"that's it babe, ride it." he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.

you shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. you feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit.

"i've got you," he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain.

your heart pounds. your brain is whirring, moving a mile a minute and you feel like you can't breathe. everything, everything is so blurry except for him. whose gripping your skin like you're everything to him. like he needs you, like a lifeline, like he can't let you go.

you both loved it.

𝐯.ㅤ ㅤAVENTURINEㅤㅤ ❛ㅤㅤ your hands.

 aventurine doesn't say i love you often. not when you are alone, not when you fuck.

aventurine likes to pretend that you aren't painfully soft with him, but the truth is that you are, and have been for a while now. you do things like this frequently. you no longer give in to goading or falls for the traps aventurine sets for you.

your hand curl around his dick now, cold against the flushed skin but he doesn't care. he's engrossed admiring your fucked out state. he's always telling you how beautiful you look; sweat drips down your temples and your lips are swollen and so so sweet, cries melodic and high, still not tinged with the usual hoarseness it gets when aventurine abuses of your throat with his cock.

"somebody's made a mess," you hum, and aventurine thinks how dirty it is— the sticky wet feeling of his own release against his shaft, the obscene image of how his erection looks wrapped in your hand— it wrenches a moan out of him, it has him thrusting up into your hand.

his futile attempts did little as to alleviate the prodding knot that prompted him to toss his head against the cotton pillowcase. hasty fondle of himself induced naught a reaction, and he bitterly grumbled before arching his back where he lay, huffs of contempt lengthening until pitiful whimpers had been the only sound.

"you are enjoying this a little too much, friend," aventurine tells you, low and rough. 

"don't you?" your hand caresses his thigh, so he's thrusted into, slow, testing. 

you are gentle even in this, though aventurine has given you permission to be rough over and over. it doesn't matter. you continue to treat him kindly. it still feels like ripped flesh and shattered dreams and the aches that sit inside long healed scars. it's okay, aventurine can still destroy himself with this.

he should've figured something like this would happen soon. you know a little too much. "i live to please," aventurine wonders. "i've told you, haven't i? use me as you wish"

"oh." you say, quietly. "is that so?."

his heart stops, but the hand on his dick pumps ever faster. he's ruined you, he knows, but in the same way, you've ruined him. now all he wants- all he'll accept- is you, your body, your hands, all of you.

aventurine doesn't voice none of that, and so he avoids your gaze. good. better that way. you make it feel good too often. he needs to balance the scales.

"fuck fuck fuck, shit," aventurine breathes, voice gravelly, his grip in your hair getting tighter and tighter. tingles spark down your spine, for what had lasted only minutes drilled into lengthening ticks of time. such a case wasn't familiar to him. the antagonizing build that pooled until coiled into a tight dam awaiting its chance to burst.

you kiss him for what feels like the hundredth time— but this time there's something different, something urgent, and he grasps the back of your neck when he attempts to ease the ache himself, swiping rough compresses against whatever he could reach, furthermore tucking a hand beneath his thighs to clutch at his neglected balls, but his caress hardly could amount to yout touch-

 he harbored no genuine resentment, but with how his conscious craved their touch, he was bound to blame. "then tell me what you want, aventurine."

𝐯𝐢.ㅤ ㅤJING YUAN ㅤㅤ ❛ㅤㅤ your thighs.

"so pretty," you hear him mumble. "i could watch you all day."

you can feel his breath, the torrent of his day in the patterns of his breathing, the way he clings on to your skin telling tales of his frustrations. so you let him. you let him look and love and feast, devour you whole. and jing yuan doesn’t know what to do with it. doesn’t know how to hold so much love and adoration even in his big, big palms.

jing yuan swears he can die happy between your thighs, the way you still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your core, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he's tasting. 

he always touches like this is the only chance he’ll ever get. he digs his fingers into the pudge of your thighs, he holds you like you’ll crumble to dust. he’s so overwhelmed. you can feel his breath, the torrent of his day in the patterns of his breathing, the way he clings on to your skin telling tales of his frustrations. so you let him. you let him look and love and feast, devour you whole.

you roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. you stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. you grind forward, he's right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you.

"w-wait," you gasp, and aeons, you're gonna lose it. even if you didn't want to, you'd think the way he's moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. 

“look at you,” he murmurs, full of mirth, full of adoration. his palm comes to curve against the swell of your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. “pretty.”

and then you're weightless, control leaving you as he wraps his arms around your thighs and presses up, pulling you down with him, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. he nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. now, he's sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside of your walls to truly taste you.

"all for me" he says, and you're whispering, gasping for him, melting at the seams, feeling the strong muscle flick once, twice over your sensitive nub before pressing harshly into you. you jerk, small whines dripping off your lips as he grips your flesh, pushing himself impossibly deeper into yo

you go brainless, pulling at the roots of his hair as you push yourself down against him, suckling on it as he digs his fingers into your inner thighs, whimpering and rutting your hips against his face. jing yuan's fierce, violent, like all his passion coming alive in his ember-tipped tongue that's digging deep in you, sticky and warm and fuck, you're dripping, coating his chin and his nose in all you have to offer.

. ࣪✦ ៸៸ tottentz ▐ © 2024 ､ ? 𓄹 ܵ ۪ + @houseofsolisoccasum , @pixelcafe-network , @nereidsrealm

[luveline]

what if bombshell!reader proposed to Spencer? Instead of Spencer proposing to bombshell!reader? Would he be upset or just as happy? Also, I absolutely adore your writing! 🥰💕

ty for requesting!! —spencer gets a love he deserves, 1.4k, fem!reader

The first proper time that you and Spencer slept together, he wasn’t nervous. It was sort of like a high school sleepover. You’d slept in shared beds in stuffy hotels and he’d once stayed the night while he was too drunk to remember it, but the first time you invited him in with intention to just be together, he wasn’t scared. You remember being surprised. Looking back, you shouldn’t have been. 

You laid together like you are now. He wore a grey t-shirt and a pair of blue chequered pants, and he’d pushed his hair back all day leaving the front pieces limp, and he’d touched your cheek to encourage your face to his before he moved in for one polite kiss. “I love you,” he’d said, much too early and a couple years too late at the same time. 

You turn on your side now to look at him. His contacts are out, his glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He’s watching a video on his laptop and the line of his jaw is soft. Or, softer than usual. He has a very sharp jaw. 

You shift a bit to alleviate the pressure on your hip.

“You okay?” Spencer asks. He doesn’t look away from his laptop nor does he sound tuned in. It’s sort of funny that he manages to care even when he’s not paying attention.

“Yeah.” 

“Tired?” 

“Not really.” 

“Hungry at all?” 

“Just brushed my teeth.” 

“That’s not the question I was asking.” 

“Not hungry, Spencer. Can I watch too?” 

He turns the laptop toward you to the point where his view is obscured, raising the volume a touch. “It’s about Tuberculosis. Do you wanna watch something else?” 

“No, this sounds interesting.” 

He settles in next to you. His fingers brush your chest. For a good forty five minutes, you and Spencer watch the rest of his video. He gets visibly tireder the longer it goes on, but neither of you attempt to get ready to sleep until the video’s finished. He closes the lid of his laptop, twisting in bed to deposit it gently on the floor. There’s a familiar shush of him sliding it under the bed to stop you from standing on it (a learned precaution). 

“Did you take that vitamin, the primrose?” he asks, flicking off his bedside lamp, leaving yours as the only source of light in the entire room. It’s a pink glass shade that kisses his pale skin a rosy hue. 

“Yeah, Spence.” 

He shakes the sheets back and the over you both. One minute you’re apart and the next he’s pulling you into him, confident handed, his breath warming your face as the gap between you thins. Despite his readying, he doesn’t say goodnight, or close his eyes. This is your time now. You often spend time at night just talking to each other about everything you’d meant to say that day, or nonsense conversation, until one or both of you has been lulled into a peaceful sleep. 

“I have something I want to tell you,” you say. 

“Okay.” He sounds completely trusting, no worrying, no reluctance. 

“You remember the first time you stayed at my apartment?” 

“No.” 

“The second time,” you correct. 

“Yes,” he says, grinning. “I was much less intoxicated that time.” 

“You were sober.” 

“I didn’t feel sober,” he says. 

“Nice. You’re getting so good at this.” 

“Thank you.” 

“But do you remember that?” You trace the curve of his nose. He’ll have to take his glasses off soon. They’ve already worn red crescents into his skin. “You told me you loved me.” 

“I can’t forget it,” he says, still grinning. You’ve tried to tell people —idiots— who don’t understand you and Spencer that, even without his million charms and idiosyncrasies, you’d love him for his smile. It changes his entire face. He never looks as beautiful to you as he does when he’s smiling. 

“I didn’t say it back.” 

“We’d only been together for a few days,” he says. “It was one of my moments.” 

“Spencer, I did love you, though. I should’ve told you. I knew in that moment that you really, really meant it, and I just want you to know that when you said it, I could have said it back. I should have. I loved you just as much, I promise.” 

“I know,” he whispers, eyes slightly widened. 

“I think I’ve loved you since the day we met. It’s cliche.” 

“Sometimes things are cliche because they’re good,” he says, laying his cheek more firmly into his pillow as he raises a hand to your face. His thumbs rests in the space under your chin. His fingertips brush along the skin just beside your lips. “And true. I loved you the minute you introduced yourself.” 

You savour the feeling of his hand on your cheek. 

“You’re so handsome,” you say, “and kind. You’re everything to me. You know that.” 

Spencer wraps his arm gently under your chin and behind your head as he lays closer to you. “I know. You’re everything to me. You’re my best friend in the whole world, I– didn’t even know how happy I could be before now.” 

“Me too, baby.” 

He closes his eyes. Your noses touch. 

“Spencer Reid, will you marry me?” you whisper.

Quiet. Aching, total quiet. He curls his arm behind your head until your lips are a hair’s width apart, and when he answers, it’s like he’s spoken directly to the deepest parts of you. “It’s all I want,” he says. 

“I got you a ring,” you murmur. 

The air races with your heart. The sound of your skin and clothes is the only thing to be heard between breaths. “I got you three,” he says. 

“Spencer, what for?” you ask, afraid to open your eyes and break the spell, the branching, unending feeling of connection you share. 

“I didn’t know which one you’d like.”

“You’ll marry me?” you ask. 

“Angel, I already said yes. I love you. I told you already we’d have to get married.” 

“Oh, we have to?” 

Spencer kisses you. It’s startlingly open-mouthed for a moment, but you adapt and overcome, you love him and his every touch, tilting your head to the side to allow him room to ferry in and kiss you deeply. It’s slow and measured, then quick and undecided. He turns his face one way to kiss you, then the other, back again, a hint of roughness —of hunger to it as he pulls your face to his. 

A spark of heat against your nose. 

Your eyes flutter open, a pinked path of light scored diagonally down his cheek. “Spence,” you say, feeling the weight and heat of tears gather behind your eyes, even as you smile, “don’t cry, baby.” 

“I feel like I spent my whole life waiting for someone to love me and it doesn’t feel real that it’s you,” he whispers slowly. 

“No? How do I make it more real for you, sweetheart? What can I do?” you ask sincerely. 

He shakes his head. 

You push your forehead into his. He doesn’t cry anymore than two burning hot tears, rubbing your shoulder as you yourself sniffle back your own emotion. You’re really not sad. You hurt for him, but this is one of the best things that’s ever happened to you. 

“Do you want to choose your ring?” he asks, enthusing his voice with cheer. 

“Do you want to see yours first?” 

“Did you get me a diamond?” he asks. 

“Don’t be silly, Spencer, of course I did.” 

He laughs and kisses you three times in quick succession before he sits up, wiping his face, chuckling wryly. “Sorry, I didn’t think I would react like that.” 

You tangle your fingers with his before he can get too far away. “I love you, honey. There’s nothing wrong with crying about it.” 

You aren’t expecting to start crying when he slides one of the rings he’s chosen for you over your finger. He says you can see each one in action and choose after you've seen them all, but the moment the band is over your knuckle, you know it’s the one you’ll keep. You push the ring you’d bought for him onto his finger with your cheeks still tearstained.

The diamond on his ring isn’t quite as big as the one he’d bought for you, but it looks right nestled against his pale skin. That night, you talk more than you ever have before, falling asleep only minutes after the glowing threads of morning have painted your twined hands with gold. 

[thelostconsultant]

Team building

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: You're Max's new teammate, but things don't go well, so Christian and Helmut send you on a private team building event before the next race of the season. At the end of the first day, things between you change drastically.

You and Max acted like two feral cats that kept hissing at each other every time they met. 

It was childish, you knew that, but he started it with an interview last year, in which he made a comment that could be translated to you not deserving your Red Bull seat. Not like you made it any easier for him, because after that you hinted at believing he had a fragile ego. Sure, you didn’t really mean it, you were just so mad at him that it slipped out. 

After the first race of the season it became obvious that the two of you didn’t want to be near the other. You smiled for the cameras and acted like everything was all right, but behind the scenes you didn’t talk to each other. It didn’t help on the track either, because you both refused to share information about settings or tires, which would have been crucial. 

Your bosses soon had enough of this nonsense, and after the third race of the season they announced you would go on a little team building trip together after the next race. You both protested, but you were both told to shut up. And so the two of you were taken to the middle of nowhere in China, accompanied by a filming crew and a very serious looking Christian who began to scold you both like you were stupid children when you went a little farther away from the others.

“You get a car, two tents, a compass, food and water for two days, a phone, and a paper map. We circled your current location and your destination. The filming crew will be there with you, but they can’t help you and can’t even talk to you unless it’s absolutely necessary. Good luck finding your way back to civilization,” he said as he handed Max the car keys. 

Both of you stood there rendered speechless, watching him walk away with a mocking smile on his face. Out of the corner of your eye, you glanced over at your teammate who let out a groan and looked down at the keys. He muttered something under his breath before turning on his heels to go back to where the others were waiting for you. With a sigh, you followed him and eventually stopped next to him, watching the old school Jeep and feeling several pairs of eyes being fixed on you. The car that brought you here already left with Christian, so it was now your little group in the wild.

“Are you good with maps and a compass?” Max asked you, briefly glancing down at you. 

You shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

A desperate laugh left his lips as he opened the Jeep. “We’re gonna die here,” he said quietly, more to himself than you or the cameras. “I’ll drive.”

Rolling your eyes, you went to the passenger seat where some of the stuff you got was stored until now. You put the map out of the way and that’s when you noticed the phone which was an old school type with no apps on it. Great, so you couldn’t even use its GPS to find your way out if reading the map didn’t work. You sorted out the items and only kept the most important ones there with you so you could open the big map and figure out where you were supposed to go. 

You checked the compass, then pointed in a direction. “That’s the way,” you said, but Max gave you an annoyed look in response. “What?”

“We need to go in the opposite direction, you–” He suddenly fell silent and you followed his blue eyes that were glued to one of the cameras put inside the car. “Okay, you need to learn how to use the compass, so for once try to focus,” he said, then went on to explain to you how it worked. 

Max talked to you as if you were an idiot, making everything as simple as he could so he could be sure you would understand. If there were no cameras around you, you would have slapped him and told him to shut the fuck up, but you had to behave. In the end he even explained a few things about reading maps, which–and it was painful to admit–came in handy as you didn’t know about them. Maybe if you hadn’t turned down your father’s offers to take you camping when you were a kid, you wouldn’t be in this situation now. 

But you were sure your teammate wasn’t a big camper either, he just knew a lot of things that sometimes came in handy. Apart from occasional short sentences, the two of you drove in complete silence, trying to avoid getting into a fight when your whole trip was being recorded. You could see the way he was gripping the steering wheel, trying hard to keep up his calm facade, so you decided to play nice and focus on navigating. The silence was only broken by the phone that beeped in your lap, so you took a quick look at it. 

“You guys are too quiet, as if you were on your way to a funeral,” was all the message said. 

He glanced over at you with a raised eyebrow, and you showed him the phone so he would know what their problem was. The look in his eyes gave away that he was the exact same thing as you. What the hell would you talk about? You had nothing in common, and if there was no one to tell you what to discuss on a video, you would’ve spent all of them awkwardly standing next to each other in complete silence. Or yelling at each other, that was the other possibility. 

Minutes passed in silence, but then Max began to talk about the first races of the season, starting a conversation about the grid and how other teams seemed to perform this year. He chose a safe topic, clever, so you could easily keep up with him. From the outside, it must have seemed like a pleasant chat, but the air in the car was heavy with tension. You said something that you expected to be funny, but he only looked over at you with narrowed eyes, making you question if you crossed a line with that comment. You really didn’t mean to, not this time. 

Before the sun went down, you chose a nice place for camping for the night, and used the equipment in the trunk to make dinner. It tasted terrible and that was the only thing you could talk about, although this time it was at least an honest conversation. When you put up the tents, the mood felt lighter once again, mostly because you were suffering and felt like you would sleep out in the open that night. If it wasn’t for Max’s offer to help, that’s exactly what would have happened. 

After the crew said goodnight and retreated to their own camping site farther from where you chose to stay, the two of you looked at each other in silence for a while, trying to figure out what to say. Something changed in the last two hours, you could tell. You didn’t feel like strangling him, in fact you realized the way he could get lost in explaining something was quite entertaining. 

Neither of you seemed sleepy, but maybe trying to sleep was the best you could do now, so you waved goodbye and went inside your own tents. But just when you were about to fall asleep, you heard the zip of the tent being pulled to open it, which was followed by someone climbing in next to you before zipping up the tent again. When they lied down on your side, it became clear it was Max, and you watched him with a confused look on your face as you tried to figure out what was happening. 

“Why can’t we always be like we’ve been once we stopped here?” he asked you quietly, sounding genuinely interested. 

You thought about it for a second as you rolled on your side to face him. “We like to make our lives complicated.”

Letting out a short laugh, he shook his head. “I don’t. Well, not intentionally. So maybe we should do something about it,” he told you with a smirk. 

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, Max put his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you closer to kiss you, surprising you by how gentle he was. For a moment you assumed he was just testing the waters, waiting to see how you reacted, but then he seemed to get lost in it and made you assume it was his plan to swallow you whole. It was nice, you didn’t want him to stop, and as if he could read your mind, he pushed you on your back so he could cage you between the ground and himself.

“If you tell anyone,” he said as he placed kisses all over your neck, giving you a warning as if there was a need for one. 

Because you weren’t about to tell anyone that you got rid of some of the tension between you this way. “Trust me, I don’t want people to know either. You’re not even my type, what would that look like?” you added jokingly.

Well, apparently this stupid joke didn’t land. Max stopped what he was doing and looked at you with a hurt look in his eyes. “Thanks, good to know,” he said with a sigh. “Why I don’t want anyone to know is because I know what people are like, there would be some who say that’s how you want to manipulate me.”

You raised your head to give him a quick kiss as your hands sneaked around his waist. “That’s nice, thank you, but I’m a big girl, I can pick my own battles. If I have to fight some morons who think about me this way, so be it. And just FYI, based on my previous boyfriends, anyone can tell you’re exactly my type,” you explained with a bright smile. Okay, maybe they didn’t like to talk as much as you do, but–”

“Mhmm, which of us is the one who talks a lot again?” Max asked with a smirk, causing you to giggle that he drowned with another kiss. 

The next morning you were woken up by a soft kiss being placed on the crown of your head, his large hand rubbing your back to bring you out of your sleep. With a groan, you rested your chin on his chest to look up at him. “Morning,” you muttered groggily. 

He swept a stray lock of hair out of your face as he watched you with a smile. “Morning. The crew is already here based on the noises coming from outside.” You gave him a confused look, not understanding what the problem seemed to be with it. He sneaks out and goes back to his own tent before they notice. Not a big deal. “They are right here and I’m not invisible,” he informed you with a laugh. 

“Oh,” you said, finally understanding the issue. 

Shaking his head, he gave you a soft kiss, then moved aside to put his clothes back on. You did the same, but only after admiring the view long enough to earn a cocky smile from him. “Wish me luck,” he said, then he kissed your forehead and pulled the zipper away to climb out of the tent. You saw him stop halfway and heard a nervous laugh leaving him. “Hey, guys, good morning.”

After he walked away, a cameraman leaned down to look into your tent, so you waved with and awkward smile at him. “Hi.”

“We will edit that out,” you heard someone say in the background. 

[i-yap]

Fights between bruce and y/n

bro is so paranoid, he knows everything about you . Everything , and when u find out he extensively stalked you, it prolly didn't sit well. with tim he stalks cuz he loves you. bruce has really serious trust issues and he stalked you to make sure u wont uh lets say steal his sperm and train your kid in the league of shadows .

he sucks at communication . like he will not explain why he does what he does and struggles to talk. Especially in like aggressive confrontations , he'll just go silent and batman persona like . so once you both calm down and sit in a secluded but calm place all alone he will prolly explain his pov. just be gentle with this giant please

hates nonsensical activities, sorry but its facts. he will give you his card take your friends for shopping but bruce has to run a company and the justice league and ( his kids if its batdad au) whats the point of trailing behind you while you look through clothes like? he isn't into fashion, he thinks you look pretty in everything. you guys get to spend no quality time why not just spend those 2-3 hrs taking you out for dinner after ur done shopping?

doesn't really get how expensive gifts can make someone uncomfortable. he is sort of used to gold diggers or rich women. so when you refuse diamond necklace cuz it isn't even a special occasion wtf brucie, I cant just take that , he wont get it. He prolly wont stop either. Will for sure end the argument with" this necklace has now belonged to you and no other woman deserves to wear. so throw it out if you don't want it but I am not taking it "back to the store" or whatever that means"

he is so smart, sometimes forgets that everyone else is not. he thinks its cute when u get super confused but you feel dumb and it'll take a genuine conversation where he tells you that he thinks your the smartest, kindest and most interesting person he has met and IQ or hacking skills or whatever has nothing to do with it.

getting him to retire.

[thisonehere]

The Lin Kuei boys find your diary and learn that you're in love with them

Mk Headkanons

A/n: Here you are, the winner of my recent poll. Just a little fun headcanon while I work on another request. It should be ready by Wednesday or Thursday.

Tags: MK1, Polls winner, invasion of privacy (but their hot so it's okay)

C/w: None

Bi-Han

This wasn't usually like Bi-Han, of all things the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei was, invading someone's privacy wasn't one of them. Until today of course.

Today was the 4th time in a row that you were missing from your training session with him. He would've thought that being allowed to train with the Lin Kuei's very own grandmother would be considered an honor. Yet here he was, standing alone looking like a fool waiting for you.

Bi-Han does not like being stood up, especially not by you. You whom he holds in such a high regard. He has so much respect for, he is generally fond of you, he feels things for you he can't even explain. So he goes to look for you, bringing him to your room.

He enters with even knocking, you don't deserve such a thing with how many times you stood him up. When he sees you aren't here he turns to leave, still eager to find, to let you know how hurt furious he is by your actions.

But before he can make it to the door, he sees something at the corner of his eye. A book. No, not just any book. Your diary.

Bi-Han thinks such things are stupid, and a waste of time. Nonsense made for children not adults. Surely anyone who partakes in this are ridiculous...But...this is your diary, and he doesn't think your ridiculous or a child at all.

He picks it up, showing care as he holds it carefully in his hands. He inspects from front cover to the back with a perplexed curiosity. Why would anyone have this? Why would you have this? He holds you in such a high regard that he views such trivial things as beneath you. What could be so important you would need have your very thoughts and deepest darkest secrets left on paper.

He knows his brothers wouldn't hesitate to open it and read. But not him though. Because unlike them he has restraint, he has strength, he has-

Bi-Han starts flipping through the pages. There has to be something in here that explains why you've so distant and absent lately. His eyes scan each and every word like they have a sacred meaning.

He especially looks for parts where you talk about him. Surely you will speak with utmost respect for your grandmaster. Maybe you explain why you've been avoiding him too.

Eventually he finds a part where you bring him up, he completely ignores the part where you talk about his brothers and goes straight t6o part where he is involved.

He takes notice with how you talk about him. You talk about how you felt butterflies in your stomach when you were near him, the way he made your heart race, the fear you had that he'd notice you blushing, how much you loved him, you wanted to be with him until the end of all time. You then go one to say the dirtiest, the most depraved things he has ever read in his life about him.

But Bi-Han reads on. He takes note of all the nasty things you'd like him to do to you. Part of him is slightly appalled. The other is very amused.

After staring at it for a while, Bi-Han clears his throat and sits the book back to where he found it and leaves.

From that point on, you can't help but notice that Bi-Han has been staring at you whenever you were in the same room. He is noticeably more patient with you than he was before. In fact, it's almost like he's being nice to you.

He has never really thought of you in such a manner before, but now, now you have his interest.

Kuai Liang

Like his brother, Kuai is a man very respectful of other people's privacy...sort of. Kuai will respect your privacy most of the time, he'll try to at least.

Kuai had been looking for you all day, he wanted to talk to you about a very private Lin Kuei business. He also wanted to see you again, just hearing your voice made his day better. But you were just friends so he never told you about it because then that would make things weird.

Kuai gets to your door and gently knocks before he enters. He happily calls your name as he enters. When he sees that you aren't present he disappointedly turns to leave. But he catches something in the corner of his eye.

He goes to pick it up, he doesn't really know what it is at first. He's not as familiar with concpt as Bi-Han and Tomas. So he opens it and starts reading. It doesn't take him long to figure out what it is after reading the first page.

After that something clicks and he goes to put it down and leave. Or that is at least what he wants to do. He is so tempted to continue that he has to remind himself how wrong thus is.

To continue reading is wrong. It's a violation of you, one of his closest friends. Besides, he is an honorable man, he believes in duty and respect and-

Anyway, now he is sitting on your bed reading through your diary like it's the Bible. He's basically halfway through the books so he convince himself that it's far too late to turn back now.

He is specifically interested in reading what you have to say about him. So he flips ahead to a writing log where you mention him. Kuai takes a deep breath before reading, he generally hopes you like him.

You talk about how nice you think Kuai is, how cool, also hot he is. Pun intended.

It took Kuai a few seconds to process what you just said. He reads on, finding more writing logs about him and they all say similar things about how attracted you are to him. He gets one specific one where you were talking about all the things you liked about him.

Kuai was overwhelmed with all this affection you had on paper for him. At the end, you confess that you have feelings for him, that you were in love with him.

Kuai couldn't believe what he was seeing, it was on paper in front of him yet he still couldn't believe it. He sets the book back where he found it and quickly leaves your room.

The next coming days were tough for him. Whenever he looked at you, all he could think about was your words. He was still in shock, this all felt so unreal. He stares into your eyes and wonders how long you felt this way, if you still feel this way.

He wants to come up to you, tell me that he feels the same way. But that would also mean he'd have to confess about reading your diary. Would you be forgiving if he tells you? Maybe, you'll just need time to forgive.

He will just fantasize about the potential future he could have with you if everything goes. Please, Elder gods of you're listening, let things go well.

Tomas

Tomas is a sweetheart, that is known. But he is also a very nosey sweetheart. Unlike his brothers, Tomas is a very curious person. That often is much to his and others slcurgrine

He comes to your room with the hopes of being able to hang out with you. Kuai and Bi-Han were always so busy so it was often you two who hung out the most.

Tomas enjoys the time he spent with you. Bi-Han and Kuai can often be pretty intense for him to be around, so he finds comfort with being just with you.

After knocking a few times he enters, much to his disappointment you aren't here. He goes to leave hoping to find you, until he notices your diary. It caught his attention the single second he laid eyes on it. He immediately recognizes what it is, he has one himself.

The thoughts of opening and reading all your dark and dirty secrets pop into Tomas's head instantly. I can't, he thinks. How could I possibly do this to you? I would be violating your personal space. There could be something in there that is really embarrassing, or be about your deepest darkest desires, maybe even someone you might have a crush on.

Tomas tries to fight off the temptation to read it, but he fails. He carefully picks up the book and opens it. Already he feels filthy with guilt.

He begins to look through it, every page feels like a sin to read, but he couldn't stop reading. The thrill of it all kept him going to the point that he already got through almost half of the book. He laughed at your most embarrassing stories, he felt sad when you expressed any tragedy or hardship you faced, he felt overjoyed at your victories.

He felt pretty good...until you began to talk about him and his brothers. At this point he got nervous at what you could potentially think about him and his brothers, especially him. It was pretty standard things, you thought Kuai was nice, Bi-Han was a hothead, and you thought Tomas was cute...wait...

Tomas's eyes grew ten inches wide at this. What? N-No, that's all wrong he has to read it again. Cute? What do you mean cute? Cute as in nice, o-or as in attractive. Surely you meant as in kind.

He flips forward, finding another log where you talked about him. Here you go into much more detail about how you felt towards Tomas, how much you loved, the way he made useful so giddy, you just wanted to plant kisses him all over his cute little face.

Tomas, jaw on the floor and eyes wide opened to the point of almost popping out, couldn't believe what he was reading. He cheeks were turning red with blush and he was without words as he continued reading. Okay, now he really regrets reading this.

In a panicked state, Tomas throws your book somewhere and runs out of your room.

The next few days were hell for Tomas. He felt like such a horrible friend. He betrayed your trust and privacy, and now he knows that you're in love with him. He feels horrible whenever he sees and remembers what he's read, how he invaded your privacy.

As he continues, Tomas can't help but think of you differently now. He fears that he's falling in love with you now. He thinks. He doesn't know.

Gods, he just wishes he never opened that book. Now he has developed feeling for you in such a rapid pace, he doesn't know what to do. Maybe he'll just have to confess to reading your diary.

He plans too eventually, the guilt eats him up every day. He just needs to work up the courage to do so. Hopefully you won't hate him, please don't hate him.

[wannaeatramyeon]

How Lookism men confess to YOU they've caught feelings

G/N. Soft. Fluffy. All that good stuff. (Gun, Jake, Goo, James Lee/DG, Johan, Vin, Samuel, Eli, Ryuhei)

Gun opts for somewhere private, just the two of you. Whether that's his home, yours, or somewhere only you both know.

He tells you with certainty his feelings for you. That there's no point divulging if he didn't think it would work out, if you weren't better together.

Intensity radiates from him. His words, eyes, aura. He keeps his confession simple and to the point, unexpectedly romantic with how matter of fact he is.

.

.

Jake thought he was being subtle, but there's a lot of prying eyes in the shadows.

He shoos the Big Deal members away in his best authoritative, no nonsense boss tone. The one he reserves to deal with serious matters. Which this is. Of utmost seriousness.

Behind his beaming toothy grin and confident stance are anxious eyes. His words are cheesy and well-rehearsed. Sincerity pulses through his every fibre, leaving you starry eyed and breath hitched.

.

.

Goo announces his feelings with a grin on his lips.

Corners you somewhere crowded, at a completely inappropriate moment. But of course. It's only inappropriate if Goo deems it to be so, and there's no time like the present.

The words are said lightly, like he could play it off as a joke any moment. His ego too fragile for rejection. But his carefree attitude is off kilter, body language tense. Gaze steady and more serious than you have ever seen.

.

.

James is flippant. The arrogant, cocky man claims you as his already. Confesses without any doubt in his mind that rejection could happen, or it could sting.

He's not a gambling man. Only plays when the odds are in his favour and the gains far outweighs the losses.

There's no ifs or buts. Talks about 'us' and 'we' and a future where you're by his side.

.

.

Johan pulls out the words reluctantly and when you least expect. Like they will choke him if he keeps it from you any longer.

He says it without looking at you. Eyes fixed on the ground, a point in the distance, Miro, Eden, anywhere but you.

Brows knitted together, hands white knuckled. A second away from running away. But he needs to tell you, he has to. The words are too big to swallow down anymore.

.

.

Vin peppers his confession with insults and half-jokes. A type of self defence to spare his heart.

Hands in pocket, like it's no big deal. Words spilling out, trying to inject indifference into them. Back against the wall, peering over at you. 

Sunglasses firmly on, eyes shielded. Because he can't bear to be any more vulnerable than he has to right now. His words are barbed and prickly, but his feelings are completely bared.

.

.

Samuel offers his heart in between lofty promises and delusions of grandeur.

Words murmured against the back of your hand, breath ghosting over your skin. Eyes fixed on yours, fiery and almost challenging you to say no.

But a relentless phantom haunts him, one that he silences over and over again.

-That being by his side won't be enough, that offering you to be his queen is inadequate, lacking and there's so much more that you deserve.

Still, he promises you the world and is committed to giving you nothing less.

.

.

Trepidation lines Eli’s words. Like he can’t believe he’s here again. After everything that has happened, with everything on his plate.

He’s forced himself to make room for you, carved out a part of his life.

He confesses in a cramped dusty room in Hostel. Sat opposite one another on rickety uneven chairs, so close your knees are touching and there’s no personal space left. 

Body leaning forward, craving your touch and proximity as he rids the last remnants of hesitancy and takes a leap of faith.

.

.

Ryuhei tells you over and over again.

Until it becomes a daily mantra of sorts for him, and part of your day for you. At first as a joke, or at least you thought so. And then his earnestness snowballed until you could no longer ignore it.

He confesses, with the same sort of childish joy he always feels when he's with you. Tonight, his blood is thrumming in his vein and his pulse is beating in his ears.

With a hushed voice and hope in his eyes: he tells you once more.

[pomefioredove]

i crave angst and hurt/comfort/fluff maybe something like that with vil? maybe reader gets hurt pretty badly or something and vil gets upset?? hehe angsty scenarios>>

on my hands and knees rn... vil... save me vil...

summary: anger is an ugly emotion type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, angsty..... mentions of bullying/abuse etc?? very open ended you can interpret that how you please, GOD this is indulgent

Anger is an ugly emotion.

So much is true even for Vil Schoenheit. If you asked him, there is nothing more undignified than losing your composure in front of others, especially those under your care.

No, Vil keeps such emotions to himself. If he feels the need to get a point across, or to settle a conflict, he will do so with grace and dignity. He won't even break a nail.

This is different.

This is seeing you turn away from him with tears in your eyes, and feeling as if the very world itself is crashing down around him.

He cannot stand it.

He cannot stand seeing you like this.

It shakes him to his very core. You've had bad days, evenings where you come crawling into Pomefiore looking as if the world had chewed you up and spit you back out at his feet, and he's tended to it.

He's combed your hair, cleaned the dirt out from under you nails, bandaged your paper cuts with a sort of gentleness he doesn't even reserve for himself, made you look new and whole again.

Vil can't help with this.

It drives him mad. It makes him feel like he's stuck inside his own ribcage with nothing but the sound of his beating heart, trapped in a flurry of confusion and anxiety.

He wishes you would just talk about it. It would make everything so much easier if you would let him help.

But he won't pressure you. He couldn't bring himself to. And, quite frankly, if he knew even the slightest detail about whomever had been making you feel this way, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself from finding them and mincing them to shreds.

As they deserved.

But Vil is not one to rush into anything. He is patient, cordial, taking his sweet time to understand a problem from all angles before enacting a solution.

And so, he doesn't ask.

He holds your chin between his delicate fingers and dabs at the corners of your eyes, hoping to brush away your misery along with your tears.

You sniffle. It's not a pretty sight- you're certainly no graceful crier.

He couldn't care less.

The only thing that Vil can think of now is how only one measly person could be your undoing.

After everything you've been through without even breaking a sweat, all it took were a few too-familiar words to melt you into a pool of bad memories and misery at his feet.

Sevens help whichever poor fool had done this to you.

"Now, now. That's alright," he coos, wiping your cheeks just as a new barrage of tears runs down them. "Don't worry about a thing."

You just barely manage to choke out a response. "I'm sorry, this is- this is embarrassing,"

"Nonsense. You have nothing to feel bad for. I promise I won't utter a word of this to the others,"

He cups your face in his palms, giving you a moment to compose yourself.

"Deep breaths," he instructs. "Seven seconds in, hold it, for just a moment, and then seven seconds out. There. Excellent job."

It's quiet. The sound of sobs and his own heart pounding seem to fade into quiet breaths shared between the both of you.

"Good," he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. A repetitive, soothing motion. "How do you feel?"

"Guilty," you say. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening."

"You've ruined nothing. You're very important to me, you know. I would never want you to think I'm too busy for you," he offers a smile. "Now, how do you feel?"

You're quiet for a moment, likely mulling over his words. Your voice is softer when you reply. "Tired,"

"Oh... you poor thing. I can't have you dead on your feet tomorrow, now, can I?"

You shake your head.

He stands, pulling you up with him. "Come along, then. Let's get you to bed. I'll help,"

He begins guiding you away from the couch you'd spent the better half of the evening sobbing on. You respond in a quiet voice.

"Vil?"

"Mm? Yes?"

"You promise you won't say anything about this to the others?"

A look of utter softness crosses his face at your request, and he smiles again. "My lips are sealed,"

[itstheghostofmypast]

16.51

University Student P.Seonghwa x (F)Reader

Summary: Sometimes, you just need a sugar boost and some Lego sets to make your day a bit brighter - oh, don't forget the main ingredient, Park Seonghwa.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.1K

Est.Read Time: 5 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

A/N: For my hardworking girlboss- @edenesth (a late bday present of sorts).

With a heavy sigh, she placed her bag on the bench before slumping down beside it. Whoever said university was fun deserved a special place in hell. Two years in, and she still had to sit on a patch of grass surrounded by her friends, all looking up at the camera with smiles that would put toothpaste ads to shame. Not to mention the endless hours of back-to-back classes, followed by the nonsensical amount of assignments and projects given to them, all made her wonder what exactly was this all for? She was not birthed to become a slave of capitalism, a slave of the system- she was but a mere butterfly, all too willing to flutter around in an endless field of opportunities, skipping from one soft petal to another, tasting the sweet essence of a blissful and youthful life.

Or she could get a rubber-clad four walled white room, at least she'd be able to pass off being delusional as a crazy person, rather than someone claiming she was so depressed she had begun day dreaming in classes. Her fingers twitched at the thought of how a few juniors caught her crying in a bathroom stall today, though they were far from cruel, their consoling words just made her feel worse- maybe she really wasn't cut out for all of this. This hectic schedule, this hectic lifestyle, these expectations.

She was so invested in falling down her pit of misery and despair that she didn't notice someone pick up her back, replacing it with their own presence, nor did she notice the way he was now staring at her, for a good long while too. Her attention was grabbed by a sharp ice-coldness that spread across her numbing cheek causing her to jerk away as she gasped, cupping her cold, wet cheek, turning to glare at whoever was foolish enough to mess with her- oh.

“You know…one bad presentation doesn't define you…wasn't even that bad.”

The rumble of his hushed voice had her senses tingle, perhaps his ASMR hobby was actually well worth it, though he was still an idiot because even a dead man could see how bad her presentation was today. She tilted her head to glare at him, but once again, her view was obstructed by a condensed plastic cup filled with some kind neon green beverage - he was probably trying out those horribly weekly juices again.

“You weren't even paying attention today,” with a soft mumble she sat back straight, her legs spread out in front of her, head leaning against the uncomfortable back of the bench, staring up at the pastel adorned sky, could this day take any longer to end? Closing her eyes, she continued, “And also, you're lucky the lecturer didn't catch you. How many times have I told you not to show up in my class? Especially if it's not your majo-ack!” she choked at the sudden intrusion, something stabbing the back of her throat before disappearing as quickly as it had come.

“Shit- sorry! Why'd you open your mouth!?” He gasped, pulling back the drink, trying to not laugh at how comical it was- yes, he felt bad because he hurt her, but it was ironic how his romantic gesture just had him blowing around.

Swatting his hand away she glared at him, at his hideously good-looking face, at his stupid boba eyes, and his hair -at this point she wanted him to trim it because he was serving more looks that needed, especially with so many people eying him. With a huff, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned to face him, “Exactly why are you here, Park Seonghwa!?”

“Me?” He pointed to himself with the cup in hand, before bringing the plastic straw to his pouty lips, taking a sip and humming, “I came to cheer up my butterfly, got her a treat too, but instead almost killed her.” With that, he 'carefully’ pressed the straw against her lips, this time being cautious not to stab her again this time. His smile deepened at the way she took a sip, watching the way her eyes twinkle at the taste, or perhaps the rush of sugar that she oh so desperately needed after the horrid day. He let her hold the cup, busy drinking away, his hand now reaching up to her face, gently caressing her cheek with his knuckles before his finger tucked the few loose strands behind her ear, “I'm sorry today didn't work out as planned.”

Placing the empty cup between them she sighed, facing him with a small smile, thankful to have someone like him, to have someone like him take care of her, be there for her, smile at her, pull her up when she was down I the dumps, have her try new things- like this Kiwi and Pineapple juice. He may have been a bit thick skulled sometimes, sometimes his inner nerd would win as hed demand they build random lego sets in the middle of the night, or he'd force her to watch him play Animal Crossing- but one thing for was for sure, reaching forward she placed her hand on his, giving it a light squeeze.

“It's alright…I'm glad you were there, it made me feel better.”

At that, he tugged her closer, pulling her into his warm embrace, giggling when he felt her sigh into his neck, gripping his shirt as if she was afraid he'd disappear. Truthfully, even during the whole mess of her presentation, the only reason she had kept going was because he was there, smiling at her, silently rooting for her, encouraging her to go on- then instantly hiding when her lecturer turned around to look at whom she was staring at, her handsome, caring, loving clown.

“I'm glad it did because I missed a test today, so at least I know it was for nothing.” He hummed, chin atop her head, enjoying the moment -

“YOU WHAT!?” Shoving him away, she glared at him wide-eyed, a test!? He skipped a test to be there!? She wasn't sure if she were to find this romantic or just stupid-

“Oh my, would you look at the time!” Standing up, he grabbed her bag, slinging it over his shoulder, grabbing the empty cup before gripping her wrist with his free hand and pulling her up, “Let us go, fairy princess!! Time to build your castle lego set! SO WE CAN HAVE OUR HAPPILY EVER AFTER FOREVER!” He declared ragging her along ignoring her complain about him not taking his academics seriously- who cared about a stupid test, he'd make up for it with extra work, all Park Seonghwa could think of all day, was her, because if he was sure about anything about his anxious, doubtful, self-conscious existence, was that she was his reason of being.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Catwoman's new sidekick (dc x dp)

This is very loosely inspired by this prompt. Enjoy the blurb:)

Danny didn’t really like guns. Not the ecto-weapons his parents made, but the actual bullet-filled guns. He knew how to use them, as that was what his parents had based themselves off of to create their own ectoplasm-powered version of it, but he didn’t like them. So when he’d found one not only loaded, but with the safety off in his apartment’s garbage bin, he’d plan to take it and go throw it in the river to make sure nobody would get to use it. Danny wasn’t exactly shocked to see it, this was Gotham after all, but it was a bit of a nasty surprise to say the least. It wasn’t like it could really hurt him anymore, it seemed halfas had a sort of built-in instinct for going intangible (which had explained why the Nasty-Burger-explosion-that-never-happened hadn’t affected him despite being taken completely by surprise).

Not to mention he was already in a bad mood at the news that Vlad was in the city right now for some rich guy nonsense, which Danny was 100% sure meant the fruitloop was going to come by to bother him at some point in the next few days.

“Hello, Daniel,” came Vlad’s voice from behind him as if summoned.

“Get away from me, you creep,” Danny answered, not turning around. Instead, he started walking in the opposite direction.

“Is that anyway to talk to your unckie Vlad?” The man said with his smarmy tone. “And I came by such a long way to come see you.”

“You saw me, now you can leave.” Danny didn’t bother turning his head as Vlad caught up so they were walking side by side.

The billionaire tsked as he looked around. “It’s such a shame you live in such a poor neighbourhood. You know the offer to pay for your tuition is still open.”

“Not in a million years,” Danny answered dryly.

“You’re just as stubborn as my dear Madeleine used to be,” Vlad sighed and Danny felt the disgust twist his features into a grimace.

“Still being a creepy disgusting old loner, Vlad?” Danny snarked. “How many cats are you on, number 5?”

There was flash of anger in the older man’s eye before he smirked. “And how is dear Danielle these days, it’s been so long since she came by. I think she’ll be due for another meltdown soon.”

On impulse, Danny raised the gun, knowing full well the man would go intangible faster than any bullet and pointed it at Vlad. “Don’t you dare touch her.”

“Oh please, Daniel,” Vlad scoffed. “What are you going to do, shoot me?”

“Maybe,” Danny retorted.

“It wouldn’t change anything,” Vlad dismissed.

“Might make me feel better,” Danny said even as he lowered the gun a bit, knowing it wouldn’t do anything.

Vlad knew this just as well, and he sneered before turning his back to Danny and walking away with a parting shot. “I always get what I want, Daniel. Whether it’s through you or her.”

The gun that Danny had lowered slightly now came back up. He was so tempted to empty the stupid thing at Vlad, no matter if it would all pass through him. Before he could do anything though, a voice from above sounded.

“He’s not worth it, kid.”

Danny looked up to find the masked face of Catwoman peering down on him.

“He deserves worse than this,” Danny said, mind still on the temptation of shooting at Vlad’s intangible back. This was a deserted part of the city, it wasn’t like it would hurt anyone else.

“I promise there are better ways to make him pay,” Catwoman answered.

Danny scoffed bitterly. “Vlad’s so rich, he can pay off anyone and cover up any scandal I could think of.” And if money didn’t work, there was always straight-up overshadowing innocent bystanders.

The masked woman hesitated for a while before she called down determinately. “Look, get rid of the gun, and I promise I’ll help you make him pay.”

“Really?” Danny wasn’t too sure what that entailed but anything that would hinder Vlad was a go for him. “You promise?”

“I do,” she stated with conviction. “But you have to lose the gun.”

“Yeah, ok,” Danny said. He was going to do it anyways, but if she wanted it gone even faster, Danny wasn’t going to argue.

Selina watched as her new sidekick dropped off the gun into the river. It fell in with a splash that had something in her curling comfortably. Maybe Bruce was really rubbing off on her if she was picking up strays

But, Selina had a good feeling about this. Talking a kid out of murder had been how Batman had gotten his first Robin, after all.

[eff4freddie]

Touch | Part Three

Of bar fights and ice blocks

Words: 4.3

Part Two | Series Masterlist | Part Four

Warnings: slow burn to the point we might just be embers, eventual smut but next chapter I promise, teeny bit of blood, quite a lot of masculine nonsense, Joel is hot but remains grumpy

When you were in eighth grade you fell madly in love with Johnny Hocart. He was a theatre kid, wildly charismatic for a 14 year old boy, and smart enough to recognise that you had a crush on him and use you for it. You’d signed up to help out with the school play that year, Johnny being the lead in Death of a Salesman the only motivation for your sudden interest in the arts, and he turned you into his roadie almost immediately. You used your own money to fetch him chocolate from the vending machine, you carried his water bottle around behind him on the off chance he might be thirsty. The afternoon you applied his eyeliner for him, on tippy toes and terrified to topple over and take his eye out in the process, fuelled your first fumbled attempt at an orgasm (you wouldn’t get it right until eleventh grade, but you had fun figuring it out). He made you feel something heavy and relentless and heated in your chest, something that unfurled its wings and beat against your rib cage when he walked into view. The little shit let you dote on him hand and foot right up until the wrap party when he stuck his hand up Donna D’Marco’s skirt and spent the rest of the year bragging about it. You were crushed by it, the weight of the humiliation heavy on your shoulders, slumping you forward and folding you into yourself. You vowed to never forget it. But you had, until you met Joel.

Sitting in the mess hall you wondered what happened to Johnny Hocart on outbreak day. You liked the idea that he hadn’t died immediately, that he’d lived in fear for a few months before getting shot by a raider, or maybe that he’d been traded to a slaver and collapsed one day from exhaustion, from malnutrition. You hated to think of him as a clicker, because even though he was a dick no one deserved that, but at the same time you liked the kind of dramatic irony of him as a bloater, overblown as his ego had been.

You chewed your sandwich, one eye on the door, waiting for Marla and definitely not waiting for Joel. You thought instead about the clients you had booked in for the afternoon, and how you were going to finally sort out Peter Fletcher’s tennis elbow so that he could comfortably hold his rifle, and why didn’t they call it rifle elbow since that sounded so much cooler, and you considered all of this while you kept your head down, and very purposefully didn’t think about the hazel flecks in Joel’s eyes as he gazed up at you, one hand cupping and lifting his muscle while you stood square between his knees.

He’d been grumpy and dismissive, you reminded yourself, and the minute he’d felt some relief he had just up and left. You conveniently forgot the part where you had essentially ushered him out the door, suddenly keen to exorcise your living space of him. You weren’t even sure exactly what that was about, except that you had felt the first flutterings of a wing against your ribs, had recognised the feeling as something dangerous and done your best to quash it.

You were contemplating this when a shadow appeared at your table, and you startled.

‘Shit, sorry, just me,’ Ray said, and you craned your neck up to regard him. ‘Can I?’ he asked, pulling at the chair opposite you, and you nodded while you tried to calm your heart. You could see something was up.

‘You ok?’ you asked, when he was finished apologising.

‘Me and my stupid glorious brain,’ he said, and you were tempted not to let him go on any further. ‘I intercepted a message that read like it was raiders, something about a big stash, an old pharmacy that hadn’t been hit yet. Coordinates, too.’

‘That’s great,’ you said, watching his face carefully, studying the lines across his forehead, his furrowed brow, decoding Jackson’s best decoder. ‘It’s not great,’ you concluded.

‘They called in a bunch of patrols to go check it out,’ he said, and suddenly you imagined Joel on the back of a horse, leaning to the left to try and protect his right side, gun strapped to his back and his neck muscles straining under the ache of it. You grimaced. ‘Marla’s was one of them,’ Ray finished, oblivious to your sudden turmoil.

It was a poorly kept secret that Ray was in love with Marla. Poorly kept in that the only person who didn’t seem to know was her. You suspected Ray would have happily stayed put in Chicago were it not for Marla going arse over tit for the idea of living on a ranch. She had barely had to convince him to come with you both, such that he had offered to trade and borrow to get the supplies you’d need, parting with his mother’s wedding ring that he wore on a chain around his neck in the process. You weren’t even sure if Marla noticed, as it had been lost in the service of gaining three passable sleeping bags, and Marla had wrapped her arms around Ray’s neck and kissed behind his ear when he presented them to you, and you had seen in that moment that for Ray it had been enough.

You could tell Jackson hadn’t been what he expected, not least of all now having to share Marla with an entire town.

‘Ray, you did a good thing,’ you said, reaching out and putting your hand on his bicep. He nodded his head, slowly.

‘You heading to the Bison tonight?’ he asked, and you scrambled quickly to come up with an excuse.

‘I was going to check on Maria,’ you replied, grateful for your guilt reminding you that you’d still not caught up with her. ‘It’s been a while since I saw her, and she’s due soon-ish I think. I was going to take her some dinner.’

He looked at you, his mouth downturned and his brows saddled over his eyes, and you felt yourself retracting from his sadness, from his regret. Johnny Hocart had painted your face in similar colours.

‘Yeah, ok,’ you said. You tried hard not to show on your face that the idea was making your skeleton want to crawl out of your mouth and try its luck on the road. But you could see Ray was struggling, that he was bouncing his leg up and down under the table. ‘Marla’s a fighter,’ you said. He looked at you for a long moment, then nodded his head.

‘Bison. Tonight,’ he said, with finality.

You didn’t ask if he knew who else was going on the expedition. You reminded yourself you didn’t care, taking a big swig of water to drown the butterflies.

—

Propped up at a table off to the side, you had a clear view of the bar on your right and the door on your left. You were sitting with Ray and his friend that you didn’t know, and you were trying to participate in conversation but your guts were churning. As much as you wanted to stay in the moment, you couldn’t stop yourself scanning the crowd for threats. Someone smashed a glass over by the jukebox and you felt yourself startle, nearly knocking your own drink off the table. Over by the bar Chloe Bennett, owner of lumbar back problems and occasional sciatica, demonstrated how much her yelping laugh sounded like a woman being stabbed to death with her own stiletto, and you wanted very much to push your chair back and leg it, but Ray kept glancing at you to check you were ok, and his friend Simon seemed quite nice generally speaking, and if nothing else you might be able to drum up some more business out of him.

‘So you don’t charge anything?’ Simon was asking. Simon and Ray worked the radio together most days, Ray listening in to the white noise for any sign of covert communication, and Simon dutifully twisting the knobs beside him. Some part of you registered that he was conventionally attractive, and you wondered if the way he was leaning in to you as you chatted was what passed for flirting in an apocalypse, but also you were watching Ray scanning for Marla, trying to telepathically tell him it would be ok.

‘I mean, we don’t have money,’ you answered Simon.

‘You don’t barter then?’

‘I’m grateful to be here. My home is payment. My safety is payment.’

‘I don’t buy it,’ he said, and he was grinning and you knew that it was playful, but also you felt a wrinkle of frustration in the folds of your skin.

‘You don’t agree?’ Simon shrugged at you in response, and for a reason still not clear to you it made you want to slap him a little bit. You turned to Ray for help, but Ray was looking at the door, and when you looked too you saw Tommy and Joel had just walked in.

‘Fuck,’ Ray said, and you scanned his face for anxiety but found only awe. ‘They are so cool.’

Simon nodded in agreement, and you scoffed in surprise.

‘Are they?’ you asked, and your companions turned to you, confused, and Ray even slightly betrayed.

‘Tommy basically keeps this place going, him and Maria,’ Simon informed you as if this was news.

‘Peak Mama and Daddy Jackson,’ Ray chimed in.

‘Joel. He’s just…’ All three of you turned to watch him approach the bar, nodding to the bartender, who had started pouring him a whiskey the moment he walked in, and slid it over to him.

You weren’t sure how you wanted Simon to finish that sentence. Your eyes kept being drawn to Joel, the broadness of him, the salt and pepper in his hair in stark contrast to his strength, the power under his muscles and behind his eyes. You felt warm in your palms where you had held him, flexed your fingers to try and get the heat out.

You let the conversation move on without you, staring down at your drink, tracing the droplets of condensation first from the body of the glass and then down to the tabletop. If you hadn’t rushed him out would he have let you keep massaging him? Would you have peeled his shirt from his body and explored the planes of his skin? You wiped the water away before it could damage the wood.

‘They’re heading out tomorrow, first light,’ you heard Ray saying, and suddenly your attention snapped back to the present. ‘So I want to be on the radio early, before they go. See if we can find the signal again, make sure the raiders aren’t going in first.’

‘You said you thought they were further out,’ Simon pointed out. ‘That it was bouncing off the mountain.’

‘I know but we’re a day behind.’

‘That’s a lot of ground to cover.’

‘Not on horseback,’ Ray reasoned.

‘We don’t know if they have horses,’ Simon replied. He held his hands palm up on the table, in appeasement, you realised.

‘We don’t know that they don’t, either. We’re sending seven of our people out there…’ your stomach lurched at seven, and your eyes flicked again to Tommy and Joel, and you wondered if tonight was last drinks for them, not knowing if they would both make it back, a time for two brothers to come together before heading back into war. ‘…including Marla, and I just want to-‘

‘What does Marla have to do with it?’ Simon asked, and you decided then he was either an idiot or heartless, and neither option was preferable. You exhaled slowly through your teeth, and watched Ray for his reaction, and wondered if either of them would notice if you just slipped away into the crowd.

You watched Ray gather himself. ‘Marla is a good shot,’ he said, eventually.

You could feel Simon preparing to argue but suddenly there was yelling, actual yelling not imaginary traumatised-by-the-end-of-the-world yelling, and all three of you turned to the bar.

Jacob and another man you didn’t recognise were standing at the other end of the bar, pointing fingers at Joel and Tommy. Joel had already stepped around his little brother, squaring off with them, and you could see that his body was braced, a tightly wound spring in a flannel shirt and jeans. You picked your glass up off the table and cradled it to your chest, as if that would solve it.

You didn’t know Jacob. He was one of the men who had already decided he didn’t own muscles, or feel pain. You knew that he was younger than the men he was squaring off with, that he was full of bravado and empty of brains, the type to shoot first and think later, and it wasn’t lost on you that back in the day he would have made the type of cop that was the subject of several enquires and a few unflattering news items, who would have been shunted off to be the deputy of a shithole town that’s biggest crime wave was when a couple of cookbooks went missing from the local library, a town that he nevertheless tortured until he retired.

Jacob was currently yelling so hard spittle was flying across the bar, and you could make out the carotid artery along his red neck.

‘All well and good for you two,’ he was saying. ‘Sitting back while the real men go out and defend this town.’ Joel was moving forward towards him, despite Tommy pulling on his sleeve to bring him back, and everyone in the bar was now frozen, watching. Jacob continued, because he was as dumb as he was hateful. ‘Oh I’m on the fucking town council, that means I get to decide who lives and who dies without having to put my own arse on the line. Fuckin’ weak, pathetic-‘

‘Lower your voice,’ Joel said, completely calm and also utterly terrifying. Jacob laughed, actually laughed, in Joel’s face.

‘Fuck off old man,’ he spat, taking another step towards Joel, who wouldn’t back down. ‘You don’t get a say either, ridin your little brother’s dick all the way to retirement.’

‘It’s men and women,’ Joel continued, undeterred and still deathly calm. One afternoon on the road you’d come across a snake on the path, big and brown and poised with its head up, watching you. It had taken you ten minutes to back away from it, so sure it was about to lunge. Watching Joel now, inching forward towards Jacob, you had the same feeling. Jacob wasn’t following Joel, made too stupid by his misplaced entitlement, his anger and his impotent fury. ‘We are sending the real men and women to defend this town, and Tommy and I’ll be here to keep it safe while you’re gone.’

You exhaled for the first time all day, the tension you didn’t even know you were carrying with you suddenly releasing. But Jacob was more angry now, and Tommy was backing up Joel and squaring off too, and you felt the heat in the room ratchet up.

‘I’m having a baby, you fuck,’ Tommy said, and Joel raised his hand to calm him. Tommy immediately settled back behind his bigger brother.

‘Not to say we ain’t grateful,’ Joel continued, but Jacob had noticed that the whole bar was watching, that Joel was about to talk him out of an argument, that he was about to be alpha’d by a man twice his age. He took three steps forward toward Joel, who had already reached back to push Tommy out of the way, and Jacob’s arm was swinging just a fraction slower than Joel’s, who clocked the younger man hard in the jaw and sent him spinning, landing hard on the top of the bar and shattering glasses and bottles underneath him. He was only down for a second before he was back up and swinging, landing a blow on Joel’s eye socket before he and Tommy had him by the back of the collar. You realised you had stood up and had moved towards them only when you were close enough to hear Joel grunt ‘a fuckin bar fight, really? You that fuckin clichè?’

Jacob just grunted, his airway constricted by his shirt that Joel was now using as a vice, and even in the middle of the violence you could see he was careful not to compress harder than he needed to, holding him sturdy but without gripping so hard as to injure.

The four men headed for the door, Joel pushing Jacob through first and then following, using the momentum to swing the younger man out and down the stairs and into the dirt below. His friend rushed to him, pulling him up and away, and as you followed them out you heard Jacob spitting threats of his return. Joel was puffed, leant against the railing to catch his breath. He turned to his brother, checked on him, and then to you, where his eyebrows shot up and you realised he was seeing you only now. Your breath caught in your throat. You had no idea what you were doing there, either.

‘You’re hurt,’ you said after a moment, gesturing to his fist. You could see a scrape of blood pooling on the knuckle.

‘Ain’t broken,’ he said. Turning to Tommy he more or less ignored you. ‘You ok?’ he asked. Tommy nodded, before he also nodded to Joel’s fist.

‘Take him to ours,’ he said to you. ‘We got ice in the freezer. Time to work some more miracles.’

You were alarmed, pretty much constantly, but especially so when Tommy turned back to go inside.

‘You’re not coming?’ you asked, and you hated that your panic had carried through into your voice.

‘Gotta make it right here,’ he said, without turning around.

—

The walk to Maria’s was three minutes at most and still you would have flayed your own skin clean off not to have to do it. You could feel the wings now, beating hard against your rib cage, and you swallowed only to taste acid on the back of your tongue. Joel was silent, but it was the type of silence that belies being pissed off, a general curmudgeon-ing, that set you on edge.

You thought again back to your teacher. When the clients in pain, keep them talking.

‘How’s the shoulder?’ you asked, into the darkness in front of you instead of looking at Joel’s face.

‘Thought it wasn’t my shoulder,’ he said, and it took a second for you to realise he was teasing you, not goading. ‘S’ok, I hear it’s all connected,’ he pretend to console you, and you squawked out a surprised laugh, wondering if you’d ever, up until this moment, made a sound like that before.

At no point had you considered that Joel Miller could be funny. Now, though, you discovered you had even less of an idea of how to talk to him.

‘You’re not going out on the run?’ you asked, and you hoped not to sound too relieved, too hopeful.

‘Got things to look out for at home,’ he said, and you stayed quiet in the hope that he would keep talking. ‘Ellie and me, we had a rough time of it…she’s been quiet. Thought best to…’ he trailed off.

‘Maria said you went to Salt Lake?’ you asked, and because you were still unable to look at him you didn’t see him flinch. ‘Why did you have to go there?’ you continued on.

‘Didn’t realise Maria liked to gossip so much,’ he said, and you heard it then, the hardness of it.

You rushed to defend her. ‘I was just curious,’ you started, and Joel stopped you, stopped walking altogether. You turned back to him.

‘Dangerous thing,’ he said, and you wanted to tell him that you knew that, that you weren’t normally like that, that you were clever and you had survived this long because if it, but he was already turning up the path to Maria and Tommy’s place, and all you could do was trail behind him, like a fucking lap dog, worried he’d lock you out if you took too long to get inside.

From the couch Maria called for Tommy, and when Joel responded she pulled herself up to stand. You were surprised by how big she’d gotten, trying to remember the last time you’d seen a pregnant woman. Let alone a pregnant woman about to pop.

‘I know, I’m huge,’ she said, when she saw you staring and you snapped your eyes back to her face.

‘Radiant,’ you said, and she snorted.

‘Thank you for lying,’ she replied, and you felt the warmth of genuine affection between the two of you, thought for a moment of sunshine on your skin, of your sister.

‘Tommy said you had ice,’ Joel cut in, and Maria noticed Joel’s hand, her face hardening.

‘They started it,’ Joel said, and you nodded behind him to confirm that this was indeed true. You saw the suspicion in her eyes, the way she was careful with him, and you stepped forward, taking his elbow.

‘I’ll sort it,’ you said, smiling with what you hoped was confidence. Joel looked down at your hand on his arm, then up to your face, where you ignored his obvious indignation at being herded like a child. ‘On we go,’ you said, feeling like a deranged grade school teacher, trying to get her class of unruly six year olds through to 3 pm unscathed. You didn’t see the bemused look on Maria’s face as you pushed Joel down the hallway, but you wouldn’t have wanted to anyway.

Once again you found yourself crammed into a kitchen with Joel. Sitting him at the table you put some ice in a cloth then plopped down into the chair beside him and held out your hand. He stared at you, unmoving.

‘I can do this,’ he said, and you were tired then, having dealt with quite a lot of male bullshit in just the last two hours, and so you groaned and pulled his hand to you, holding him firm by the wrist lest he try and patriarchy his way out again.

‘I can do it better,’ you said simply, and he huffed out a laugh.

‘Now that I don’t deny,’ he said, and it was quiet, just barely muttered between the two of you, and when you looked up into his eyes you found that they were crinkled with something like amusement, something like affection.

You looked down, flexed his fingers for him, heard him hold his breath when you inspected the knuckle.

‘They teach you this in school, too?’ he asked, and you heard again that he was ribbing you. You decided it was a good sign.

‘No this is purely growing up with a daredevil older sister,’ you replied.

‘Family resemblance, then,’ he replied and you looked up at him sharply, angry for a second that he was calling you meek, that he was deriding you for a perfectly normal reaction to the collapse of society, but you saw nothing on his face that belied any aggression. If anything, you saw warmth.

‘This sore?’ you asked, just gently wresting a fingertip on the bone. His hands were big, with thick and powerful fingers, and you were doing your absolute best not to consider what they could do to you, if you let them.

‘S’alright,’ he murmured. For a moment you saw outside yourself, watched you hunched over inspecting the paw of a lion, a little mouse reaching in to extract a thorn.

‘Here?’ you said, hushed under the light of Maria’s kitchen. You pressed down slightly, on exactly the same spot, and heard his breath stutter. You realised the makeshift ice pack was too bulky to fit between his knuckles, so you opened it and took a block out, resolutely not looking up into his face.

‘Tell me if this is too cold,’ you said, holding the block between your fingers and running it gently over his skin.

‘Mmhmm,’ he hummed, gently. You kept the ice moving, your eyes watching his hand for any sign of a tremble, but he stayed resolute under your touch.

The heat of his skin started to melt it, cold water running down and snaking under his palm, between his fingers. It washed away the blood, so that you could see only scratches, surface abrasions, from where knuckle met jaw. You watched the pink of it, mixing with the water, little rivers of something precious, something Joel. You were aware only of your finger tips, the push of wings against your chest present but forgotten, as you witnessed him, his essence. As you gazed down on the thing that made him, that kept him, the life in his veins. As the block melted down to just a wafer, as it healed, sealed over the hurt, you lifted it to your mouth to taste it, wanting the iron and the tang of it, the sharpness of the cold mixed with the heat of him, of your open mouth.

You heard his breath hitch. Your eyes flew open, not having realised you’d closed them, and landed on his face, where you gasped when you saw the look of pure wanting, of pure desire, painted pink and red over his features. You dropped his hand in your panic, your face burning, your legs moving before your brain had even taken a moment to collect itself.

‘Thanks Maria I gotta go think Joel will be fine I hope you’re ok will drop some food around you’re the most beautiful pregnant lady I’ve ever seen take care bye’ you vomited, gathering your coat tight around your shoulders and wanting but not wanting, terrified but hoping, to hear footsteps down the hall behind you. You wrenched the door open, felt the welcome rush of cool on your face, already halfway down the porch before you heard it slam shut behind you.

You sprinted, shuffling over ice but not slowing, back to your home. As you went you followed the wall, wondering how it could have made you feel safe now that you were trapped behind it, wondering how you could possibly live with the snake poised to lunge at you, how you could outrun it when it had taken up home inside your belly, beside your breath.

Tag list (just learned what these are, lemme know if you want me to add you)

@orcasoul

[shinidamachu]

Do you think Kikyo should’ve been nicer to Kagome and thanked her for all those times she saved her? Some of the fandom even thinks she owed her Spiritual training as well, what do you think?

To me, the thing about Kagome and Kikyo's rivalry is that it felt very one sided. Obviously, they both had extremely valid reasons to hate each other's guts at first — reasons that go beyond Inuyasha —, but Kikyo was the only one actually acting on it.

And she kept doing it even after Kagome has proved, time and time again, that she can be trusted and that she is in no way deserving of Kikyo's hatred.

I think that was a great dynamic because Kagome and Kikyo parallel each other so well: while Kagome was strugling with her own feelings in order to understand Kikyo's and accept her as a part of Inuyasha's life...

...Kikyo was fighting to do the exact opposite and hold on to her grudge. You can tell it by the way she can recognize what Kagome's true intentions were but still belittle her for it and refuse to say anything nice to her face.

It's a extremely compelling "yin and yang" sort of thing that worked very well at the start. What happened was that, at a certain point, Kagome has done so much for Kikyo that any ressentment towards her just felt a little ridiculous.

And I'm not even saying Kikyo should've been nicer and thanked Kagome. I think it's perfectly okay for a female character to dislike another. They don't have to be friends just because they're women, especially when there's so much bad blood between them.

In fact, I don't think there's room for a canon friendship there without it feeling awkward and forced — even though Kagome was obviously trying. I also think Kikyo being nice and thanking Kagome would be out of character and honestly a little underwhelming.

After everything that happened, a simple "thank you" doesn't even begin to cover. And as much as Kagome deserved to hear it, she didn't do anything because she wanted to be the better person or for Kikyo to be in debt with her. She did it because she's a good person and therefore will always do the right thing.

In my opinion, it wasn't exactly to Kagome that Kikyo owed anything, but to the narrative, as a way to earn her so called redemption by being held accountable for her actions, which she never really was.

Rather than Kikyo being nicer to Kagome, I think it would've been much better for both characters if Kagome was allowed to tell Kikyo off every now and then without it being an illusion.

And rather than Kikyo thanking Kagome, it would've been way more natural and meaningful for her to die saving Kagome's or Inuyasha's life instead of Kohaku's. It would've shown more regret and gratitude than any words ever could. Everything would come full circle — since she tried to kill them both while they were only trying to save her — and her closure would feel actually earned.

As for the spiritual training thing, I see where people are coming from and in another universe I think it would've been totally cool for them to have a dynamic like Aang and Roku had in Avatar, but again: it doesn't really work in canon.

More importantly: it goes against a theme that was introduced very earlier in the show, which is Kagome being her own person, doing her own thing, aside from Kikyo.

We literally see her trying to channel Kikyo's powers and failing...

...Then just being herself and succeeding:

If anyone was obligated to train her, that's Kaede, but particularly I like the idea of Kagome being self taught and making the moves up as she goes even better. I think it adds a lot to her character, I just wished Takahashi had explored it properly.

Plus, let's be honest: Kagome was doing a fine job on her own. Kikyo was the one making her life a thousand times harder by coming up with those nonsensical plans. In the end of the day it wasn't Kagome who needed Kikyo to defeat Naraku, but rather Kikyo who needed Kagome.

That being said, if Kikyo were to be nicer and thank someone, I think that person should've been Inuyasha and I will die on this hill. He was risking everything he had because she guilt tripped him into thinking he owed it to her.

"You came for me, that is enough" was not a thank you nor an apology. I can understand her reluctance when it comes to Kagome, but I can't justify her treatment of Inuyasha. Not when she was supposed to love him.

[silent-stories]

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: You visit Eddie at the hospital after the demobats incident.

Warnings: just fluff

You peeked into the dark hospital room with a smile on your face, trying to hide the horrible sensation you'd been feeling relentlessly for the previous few hours, waiting for a doctor or nurse to come out to tell you if Eddie was going to be okay. If he was still alive.

You were really scared that he could have died, that you would lose him and you never thought you could feel this way about someone you've known for so little time.

"Hey" You said walking into the room towards his bed. He was wearing one of those awful sort of dressing gowns that hospitals usually supplied, part of his face was covered in scratches and he had a tired expression drawn on his face. Even if you couldn't see it, you were sure that his torso and chest were covered in bloody bandages. "How are you feeling?"

Stupid question, maybe, but "I'm so glad you're alive I could cry right now" seemed too profound.

He looked smaller than usual, without his leather jacket and jeans with chains, more vulnerable without the clothes to helped him keep up the tough guy facade. Some people would say he looked less scary that way but Eddie never looked scary to you.

"Good enough for someone who almost died" he replied when his big brown eyes landed on you, an almost surprised expression painted on his face "You stayed."

"Of course I stayed" You said "we all stayed but then it got really late and the kids had to go home and they needed someone to drive them, so now Steve is also a chauffeur as well as a babysitter."

"Late? What time is it now?" He asked and you caught on to the fact that he had no idea how long it had been since he lost consciousness.

"It's almost four."

"In the morning?" he asked incredulously. You nodded.

"Jesus Christ Y/N, go home, please, I-"

"I haven't waited all these hours for you to send me home, Munson." You cut him off in a tone a little too harsh. You absolutely didn't want him to think he was a burden, you stayed because you wanted to be there for him. You had the impression that not many people were there for him, usually.

"Can I sit?" You asked then, softening a bit and pointing to the space next to him on the bed, he just nodded before silence fell between you.

You're sure at some point you let out a sigh of relief, after all that had happened you were grateful to know that Eddie was going to be okay and that everything was going to be fixed, somehow. Now that Hopper was back you were sure that if you and your friends explained the whole situation to him he would help you and be able to prove that Eddie was innocent.

"Can I ask you something?" he said after a few moments.

This time it was you who nodded.

"Why are you still here? I mean, you stayed even after everyone left, you're still covered in blood, you must be really tired and dying to sleep. So why did you stay?" He asked looking down, playing with the rings on his fingers.

You sighed. "We're friends. I care about you. I didn't want you to be alone when you woke up. After everything that's happened to you lately, you don't deserve to be alone. You didn’t even before."

He just looked at you like you were something weird or saying the craziest thing he's ever heard.

"We are friends." he muttered, repeating your words as if you had said nonsense.

"Of course we are." You tried to read his expression but you couldn't figure out where he was trying to say.

Didn't he want you to be friends or wasn't he used to people treating him like one? Had anyone even told him they were his friends? Did anyone ever tell him he wasn't a freak and didn't deserve even half of the bad things that had happened in his life? you find yourself thinking.

"Yeah, sure. I'm sorry. It's just that it's weird you know? A few days ago I never thought that a girl like you could even talk to someone like me and then everything happened and now you're here at tell me we're friends. It's weird, but it's- it's cool. Really. I'm glad you are here, Y/N." He finished the sentence with a chuckle.

You weren't exactly one of those considered "popular" at school, but certainly no one ever stopped you in the hallway to yell insults or you never found the words "freak" and "murderer" engraved on your locker.

Did Eddie really think you wouldn't be on his side just because he was considered one of the "outcasts"?

"No, you're right." You replied "I wouldn't talk to someone like you because there's no one else like you, Eddie. That's why I like you. The way people in Hawkins talk about you isn't fair. You are not mean or scary. You are not bad. Bad at school yes, but a bad person? No way. And you also almost died to save our asses."

He laughed and looked down. "It was metal though."

You couldn't help but smile and shake your head at his comment. "It was. But never try to do something like that ever again."

"Thanks Y/N." He added then.

"For what?"

"For everything. For being my friend. For staying."

You just nodded and reached out to grab his hand, his rings were a little cold against your skin, but you didn't really mind because as soon as you did that, a smile appeared on his lips.

Silence fell between you again -and probably also in all the rest of the hospital given the time- but it wasn't an awkward silence, it was calm, pleasant and somehow intimate.

The last thing you remember before sleep overtook you is Eddie's hand lazly playing with your fingers and yours drawing imaginary circles on the back of his.

"You think... that they're like together-together?" Mike asked Dustin the next day. Both were in front of the hospital bed, watching you and Eddie sleep next to each other. Eddie's arm was around you to hold you close to him, like he was afraid that if he didn't you'd disappear.

"Nah, they're just friends." Dustin answered with a note of doubt in his voice. He was a little mad at you for not calling to tell him Eddie was fine, but maybe now he understood why you didn’t. You and Eddie were like him and Suzie, just more disgusting.

"Mh, I'm not sure. Friends don't act like that, man."

[frumfrumfroo]

Imagine making a film series like Star Wars and framing the triumphant romantic kiss as 'goodbye'... I still can't believe they made that film. Obvs that's probably how Daisy Ridley interprets it, not necessarily how it was framed (which was lacking narrative altogether), but it's still miserable. It's not even Romeo & Juliet vaunted romantic tragedy. It just sucks.

I do pity the poor anons who are waiting for some sort of different outcome with a new ST film. Studio executives will never look at the critical failure of TROS (it was a commercial success though) and think the takeaway was 'maybe we shouldn't have fractured the SW myth', it's 'oh, okay, let's never deviate ever again, damn that blasted TLJ' - just look at how JJ and co. tried to retroject TROS' failures onto the previous film. Course correction, course correction. Rey Film, if it gets made, will be DO YOU REMEMBER THIS? self-flagellating apology. Ben Solo will never return.

Yeah, anyone trying to come up with any positive spin on it, including desperate attempts to see it as effective tragedy, are doomed to failure. Only by completely ignoring the context and taking the moment by itself carried only on the actors' performances as continuity from TLJ without any of the terrible fucking tros script in the way can the kiss actually mean something.

As soon as you try to make tros into any kind of story or draw any kind of sincere message from it, you immediately run into the brick wall of what a soulless, nonsensical piece of trash it is.

I had a whole rant about how it's not Romeo and Juliet and I am still so annoyed how often people draw the comparison, both utterly missing the point of R&J and giving tros credit which it does not deserve by imagining it assigns any meaning to Ben's death whatsoever.

Yep. We've seen them do nothing but triple down. They have no idea why the movie was such an embarrassing wet fart. Rey the sexless eternal child will never be challenged again, she'll go on a worship tour of references, places, and objects to do reverence as the Brand Avatar. She's not a character any more and she's never going to be again.

[yearningaces]

Nyx is a fun sized guy :3

How would he feel if another human was trying to court his s/o? Especially if compared to him, they are big, strong and would be ideal for providing?

AND VICE VERSA

What would happen if another rabbit person tried to yet his attention when he has his s/o??

I love this question cause I get to display Nyx like a peacock the way I haven't yet

The thing about Nyx, is that he's anxiety incarnated when it comes to anything NOT including himself.

When on the topic of himself however? He's so overly confident it's almost arrogance but the way he's confident isn't "you're dating the best partner because I'm me" it's more "of course we're together, the best of humans only deserves the best of inhumans." He'll lift you up in confidence while also praising himself. Package deal.

A big human coming to HIS human with intentions of courting or even flirting??? No. Not allowed. Absolutely not. Stop, turn around, do not pass go do not collect 200$.

To the point he almost seems like a different bun, but really he relies on throwing people off, he knows an actual fight gives him low odds against a human, he would fight another bun though. But mostly he aims to confuse and embarrass or make others nervous as opposed to going straight to an actual fight

More specifically

~

"What is this supposed to be?" Your little bunny boy questions in a surprisingly bold tone, stepping to your side with his eyes fixed on the guy that had asked about going out for drinks.

Nyx, even as small as he was, seemed larger somehow... Oh. He's standing as tall as his hind paws allow, ears perked up, head held high, shoulders back, chest out. What a confident little bun he seemed, and it was certainly enough to catch your fellow human off guard.

"Oh, sorry man, didn't see you there. I'm Jax, I'm a co-worker of-"

"-of my human. Yes I'm aware, we've talked about you over lunch before." Nyx waved Jax off with his hand, turning to look up at you instead. His tone shifting from hinted malice and morphing into the usual softer lovestruck tone. "Speaking of lunch, Honey- you said you wanted to try out that new Yakitori place, right? They have all sorts of cuts of meat and veggies for me too."

There's something about how Nyx is acting, as if Jax isn't even worth the effort of being polite with while simultaneously encouraging you to leave. You'll have to discuss exactly what's up later but don't want to purposely upset anyone, so you turn to Jax to at least say goodbye-

Until Jax steps forward with some gathered nerve that's far too easy for a big guy to have. "Actually, rabbit- I'm going to be taking my coworker here out for a drink."

Nyx doesn't hesitate and doesn't second guess his actions because he springs forward, landing with a quiet thud on the concrete directly in front of Jax, making the grown man stumble back slightly. "Excuse you? I think you actually tried telling this incredible person what to do. No, that's not how you should be speaking to the greatest human you'll ever meet."

To both your confusion and amusement, Jax is stumbling backwards from a bunny half his size just from Nyx's bolstering display, continuing his steps forward, forcing Jax backwards even further. "No, because they're my wonderful partner and I'm theirs. And we are going to have a lovely lunch at the new spot they've been talking about, and we'll maybe go shopping after, and then go home. Alone. Without your nonsensical attitude and demands that honestly don't hold any water."

Jax stumbles back further. Gripping over the curb behind him and landing on his ass with Nyx standing far too close to be a respectful distance, the white and brown fur hybrid glared down, leaning over slightly to make eye contact directly. His eyes hold a challenge to them. "Now where in those plans do you see yourself included? I certainly don't see such a ridiculous notion anywhere." His perked ears twitch back to you, remembering you're there as well, and his tone and demeanor draws back slightly.

When Jax is silent -most likely confused and embarrassed- Nyx turns to walk back to you. He turns with the familiar bright smile and spring in his step as he wanders towards you, raising his hands to take your arm and guide you away, a slight spring in his step. "Come on, honey! I think that's the best pre-meal entertainment we could possibly get."

What a bun, that Nyx.

~

Now, if another bun ever tried, he'd go all out- nvm on explaining you get a two for one scenario here we go!

~

It was certainly a strange situation.

You'd grown accustomed to the burrows being a place where you have to be overly cautious and watch your actions closely as most bunny Hybrid around here were so easily frightened.

But this one seemed... Not.

The dark brown fur ears and tail were fluffier than Nyx's, and she was a larger type of bunny... Were there different species of rabbit-hybrids? There were characteristics in Nyx's family that you didn't see for each bunny out and about... Regardless, the one in front of you had hopped over to the bench Nyx left you on while he darted off to find something he left in his families burrow. So you were alone... Trying not to be too loud or too quick in movements but also trying to get this bunny -Alira- to stop flirting so much.

She had hopped up onto the bench with you at this point, leaning over herself and placing her hands on the bench to prop herself up all while speaking. "Come on, a strong predator like yourself all alone out here? You can't convince me that you're here with some silly bun... I think you're here looking for somebunny to devour" her grin didn't diminish though, apparently she was writing her own narrative in her head despite your many denials.

"I don't know what to tell you, you don't have to believe me but I really just wanna be left alone until my partner comes back."

"Partner?" Her ears perk up as much as they can despite the natural droop to them. "Oh dear, what a flimsy relationship... Not even a mate yet?"

At that you're caught off guard, "A what?" At the feeling of her hand on your arm, you jolt back, almost ironically given your dispositions.

What you're not prepared for, is to have a very familiar white and brown fur bunny boy springing on you out of nowhere and depositing himself onto your lap. Nyx fills your vision, his eyes alert, his smile bright and his ears up. He looks like the epitomy of a parading peacock. "Honey!" His greeting seems overly sugary in tone, his hands pressing into your cheeks and pulling your face down to his for a kiss. One and another and another spanning from your lips to your nose, your cheeks, your forehead, your jaw- "I'm so sorry it took me so long, Grandma bun was just telling me how they wanted me to invite you to celebrate the harvest holidays with us, isn't that sweet?"

After a moment, it's clear he's intentionally ignoring your company but once he sees Alira's hand still on your arm he swats it away, raising your forearm and pressing a kiss where her hand was. "Oh, my poor honey. All of this unwanted attention from strangers that don't know their place must feel so uncomfortable. Why don't we go back to the burrow, hm? I can make us some sweet bread and spiced tea to relax with? And we can talk holiday plans whenever you'd like."

There's something familiar in how he's acting. How any time someone tries to take your attention he purposely acts as if they're not around, as if so unimportant they're not worth noticing...

With that, Nyx hops off the bench, guiding you along with a delighted expression and promises of sweets and soft blankets to cuddle under, promises he would absolutely deliver at that.

[some-pers0n]

I've got a couple messy feelings on Cleril and how the fandom treats it, so here. Take this rant.

TL:DR: Cleril is good you guys. Trust me.

Maybe it's a sign that the brainrot from writing murderers and people who are so far gone from the general norm being able to be soft and sweet is killing the last remaining sense of reason in me, but I don't think Cleril is as bad as people make it out to be.

Yeah, obviously at first glance this should never work. Saying that Peril isn't the most stable character in the series would be a massive understatement. She is constantly characterized as reckless, clingy, emotionally dependent, and always puts herself down as a monstrous dragon only capable of hurting others. Clay has never shown any sort of romantic interest in her, only being passive and sweet with her in a platonic sense. Peril on the other hand loves Clay to the point of obsession. She practically makes him her moral compass. That sort of idealization isn't healthy.

And...you'd be correct. In that state? There isn't too much of a connection there to begin with. If it were to happen right now, I think it would mostly be out of Clay feeling pity towards Peril. He wants her to be happy and is kind of self-sacrificing like that, but, I don't think he could handle being the dragon who she puts all of this pressure on. To be somebody who she centers everything around.

But, Peril isn't really that dragon anymore. It's like people read Escaping Peril, get to the end, and then think: "Oh wow she sure developed. Not enough to be a healthy character!!" as if Escaping Peril didn't end with her burning Darkstalker's scroll and thinking to herself that she didn't mind if Clay wouldn't approve of it. She was acting on her own volition. She knew that burning it was the correct thing to do. She's moved on from treating Clay like this centerpiece in her soul. This dragon who she treats more like an idea of her conscious to keep her on the right track. She's improved. Getting better.

Peril is a character I think is misunderstood by a lot of people, especially ones that aren't really in her position. I don't wanna be an arm-chair psychologist and spout nonsense, but Peril is heavily traumatized and reminds me a lot of people who get out of these horrible situations and are trying to adapt to a new and scary world all on their own.

Peril had an awful childhood. She was raised to be dependent on Scarlet. Scarlet was the only dragon who was keeping her from being thrown off a cliff by an angry mob. She was manipulated and gaslit into believing that what Scarlet did was good. That Scarlet was the only one who cared about her. That these kind of horrible and unhealthy relationships are something she thinks is normal. When Clay comes around, she does the exact same thing. Puts him on a pedestal. The concept of being treated as anything but a monster is completely foreign to her, so she instantly grows attached. She thinks he loves her. Why else would he be so kind? She associates basic compassion with love because that's what she's been raised to believe.

But, she's healing. Throughout Escaping Peril we see her come to terms with her childhood. She understands that she is not a monster, but rather a dragon who was a victim of her circumstances. She is not the same, volatile, unpredictable dragon she was in TDP. People still think of her as that, when she certainly isn't anymore. She's so much better.

Her arc is one about bettering yourself. That, no matter how hurt you were, you deserve to be loved. You deserve to be treated with respect and kindness. You are not a monster. You are capable of love. You are not a heartless being. There are people who care about you. There are people who will stand by your side and help you. There are people who love you.

People never talk about Clay's side of Cleril either. People barely even discuss about Clay for that matter. He's so much of a nothing character in the eyes of the fandom, reduced to little more than Peril's partner who can give big hugs.

But, Clay is like Peril is so many ways. That was one of the many reasons they both got along. Clay and Peril were brought up as unfeeling monsters. Born killers who cannot change their fate. Clay believed in it. That no matter what he tries telling himself, he's a murderer. That at his very core he wants nothing more than to tear out somebody's throat.

But, he learns. He is kind. He is compassionate. He is patient, earnest, sweet, loyal, and above all: loving. He is not a monster. He is more than the labels placed upon him. Only he can define himself through the actions he makes in the present. He is more than the mistakes of his past. He is Clay. He is not Clay the Killer, or Clay the Destroyer, or Clay the Monster. He is Clay.

Him and Peril are alike in so many ways. Clay is the final result of Peril's journey. She's still struggling, but she's making progress. She's developing and changing into somebody better. She's making amends for her mistakes. She's going to be somebody bigger than the labels that were placed on her. She will no longer be Peril, Scarlet's Champion. She will be Peril, known for her fierce loyalty, undying love for her friends, and being the one to burn brightest in the darkest of times.

I believe they can love each other. I believe that Peril can love another dragon and not be extremely clingy or dependent. I believe that Clay and Peril can help each other.

Call be a hopeless romantic or a optimist, but I believe in love. I believe love can help others through their struggles. I believe in people being able to change and grow beyond who they were. Above all, I believe in hope for a brighter future for anybody who has been hurt in the past.