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sunboki · 3 days

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— FOR THE NIGHT. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

WORD COUNT. 1.1k words

AUG'S NOTES. this bangchan is from my “Korea’s Most Wanted” universe because i have yet to get over him from october…

“Bin, you said it was shipped friday.” The man, Christopher Bahng, grumbles, massaging the pinch between his brows.

His counterpart, Bin, whom he was now quarreling with on the phone groaned profusely, claiming how shipments were already slow—not to mention with the new investigations on his business underway.

The life of The Gunsman isn’t an easy one. It’s a constant game of tag against the police and the government while wielding a well-planned dictionary of excuses to avoid suspicion.

So now, as Bahng’s precious system becomes increasingly jeopardized, he finds himself losing more and more sleep to a worrisome degree.

And, having left the party filled with chairman, associates, and colleagues alike, Bahng slips into the safety of his car, once again troubled with the demands this illegal trade calls for.

“Well tell him I’ll have to serve his head on a platter if the ammunition doesn’t arrive by Friday. I’m running a charity event with how many funds I’ve given the idiot.”

Although halfway into Bin’s response, a quiet, though audible sound rustles in his backseat.

Instantly, he’s lurched a pistol from his thigh, aimed directly at the responsible interruption.

“Bahng. Bahng?” Bin echoes, only to be hung up on as Chris takes in the sight before him.

Lying in his backseat, curled up in a miniature ball, is a girl.

Your face is wrinkled in discomfort, hand resting right below your cheek, smushed against his car, a Lamborghini’s, interior.

How you got here without him noticing is beyond him, how long you’ve been here an even larger mystery.

His hand falters with the pistol, gawking with obvious surprise prior to stuffing the weapon back into its leather holster.

Instinctively, he would’ve called an assistant, asked them to take you home, find someone who knew you. Except, by the look of your current state, he has an inkling you wouldn’t be the greatest help navigating.

You’re gone.

Plus, the party’s already drawing to a close, people scattering out in every direction. The last thing he needs is to draw attention to himself.

Bahng may work illegally, lacking the fear of blood on his hands, but he’s not heartless.

Stifling a sigh, he rakes a hand through his hair, repeatedly clearing his throat in the case you woke up.

Leave it to him to end up with a random girl in his backseat.

Fine. Home it is.

Or, one of his many homes in the area.

Starting the engine, he spares repeated glances at you on the drive back, simply met with your same, woeful expression. Eyes screwed shut, lips pursed, cheeks stained a pink hue.

Pulling in, he stalls in the front seat, debating on all his morals up till now.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this..” Words a mere mutter, he carefully opens your door, gingerly dragging you out from your awkward position.

Knees pulled to your chest, Bahng keeps one, scarred hand on your back and another beneath your thighs while your head hangs, both hands bunched into fists, pressed to your chest.

Scared.

Whatever happened before, however you got here, you were scared—that much was known.

Somehow, the realization had him holding you closer.

Swiping the code to the door, he silently curses the loud beep, confusing himself with his concern for you.

Why did he care? You’d wake up, he’d get your home address and send you off. Why was he now so conscious about your comfort?

Heading up the winding stairs, he pulls his office chair from its place, deciding water as the best option.

“I’m going to put you down for a second, okay?”

Gently idling you into the chair, his movements halt when your arms reach up around his shoulders, a soft, barely divisible whine slipping past your lips, unwilling to let go.

He can barely recognize anything with how loud his heart rams against his rib cage.

Pull yourself together Bahng.

Ensuring you were still asleep, he slips into the kitchen, filling a glass with water before returning to you.

Your head jerks from when he holds the rim to your mouth, unwilling to cooperate.

“Just water sweetness,” He soothed, hating how worried he was, how senseless this behavior was.

Yet, he only continued to ease you into each sip, palm cupping your cheek for support, narrowly masking his astonishment when your eyes slowly opened, barely awake.

“Mm..?” Your vocal cords betray you, leering on the verge of dream and reality as you try acknowledging your surroundings.

No amount of recollection aids your perception in figuring out how you got here, only aware of the blaring ache in your head and a strangers voice in the distance.

One thing’s for certain. You feel awful.

Discerning the splash of water dumped down a sink, you’re once again hoisted into his arms, disappearing back into unconsciousness as Bahng nudges open his bedroom door, settling down on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t mean to man-handle you, but we need to get these shoes off.”

Situating you upright, his arm slips down, propping each of your ankles where he can pull the heels from your feet.

Softly placing you down, he savors your feeble grip grasping at his clothing, gradually loosening in an attempt at holding his face.

“Unfortunately, I can’t stay here all night sweets, you’re gonna have to let go,” Bahng whispers, easing your wrists down to your sides.

Unfortunately? What’s gotten into him?

Although, just as he adjusts the comforter over you, turning to go, he hears a sniffle.

C’mon, ignore it, she’s fine.

Another sniffle.

Screw it.

“If you tell me where you live I can take you home?” He utters, lingering by your bedside like a child waiting to hear if they can go on a play date.

It’s painful admitting the effect your tears have on him, brows creasing so sadly in a way he can’t ignore.

“Are… Are you gonna hurt me?” You whimper, feeling absolutely exhausted the longer your mind races, frantically piecing together any clues of your whereabouts to no avail.

The pad of his thumb wiping free falling tears, he shakes his head, a miniature smile gracing usually serious, unmoving features.

“I can’t say I haven’t hurt someone before, but I’m not gonna hurt you, alright sweetness?”

Nodding fervently, his face contorts, admiring the adorable manner you blink up at him, lashes all clumped from crying.

Look, his ego isn’t too fragile to admit you’re cute.

“..How did I get here?”

Bahng chuckles.

“I don’t know the answer to that myself.”

Freeing your arm from his sheets, you furiously rub your eyes, frown tugging at the corner of your lips, hiccuping as your breathing shallows.

“I know things are scary when you’re this drunk. I promise everything will be a thousand times better in the morning.”

And with that, he pulls the comforter over you, bidding a quiet good night and nearing the door for a second time.

This time, you intervene, latching onto the fabric of his shirt.

“Thank you.”

What did he just get himself into.

He sucks his teeth, surveying the sleepy eyes you’re torturing him with.

“Don’t mention it.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

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nothingbutsweetwords · 3 days

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ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴀᴛᴇʟʏ, ʏᴇᴀʜ, ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ..."

Word count: 3,800.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

MEETING - 1. Her.

Her legs, without any command and with an unstoppable determination, set off through the labyrinthine corridors of the red keep towards her mother's chambers long before the phrase fully reached her ears, the one she had so longed for: "The baby has been born, my princess."

Her family was her most loved treasure and when her mother announced the big news, time seemed to slow down. She couldn't wait to have that baby in her arms and cherish every second the gods, those she fervently prayed to, would allow her to spend with him.

Every night, in silent prayers, she repeated to any who would listen: "Please, let him be born healthy. Please, take care of my mother."

Rhaenyra painfully held in her heart the memory of her mother Aemma's early departure from the world. She wanted to shield her little ones from all fear and anguish, so she didn't dwell on details about that traumatic episode, one that, despite the years, remained as a deep and open wound. Unfortunately, she couldn't stop the whispers, those that seeped into her daughter's ears, creating such intense fear that she barely had room to breathe during those long nine months.

She felt a smile so wide it would ache her cheeks later and feet that weren't fast enough. Upon reaching the large wooden door, she took a few seconds to take a deep breath, calm her racing nerves, and finally push it open with determination.

Her entrance went unnoticed, as all eyes in the room were on the small human being now peacefully resting in her father's arms.

Except hers, no, those were on the woman sitting on the couch. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, her hair tousled and a tired expression adorned her face; yet never, in her short years on this earth, had she seen her so beautiful.

"Mother" she murmured almost voicelessly, taking her hands in hers and seeking her gaze. She felt her eyes sting, tears threatening to spill, and a lump forming in her throat. She wanted to speak again, but her voice got lost along the way. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary; Rhaenyra knew her as well as herself and could read her like an open book.

"My love, please, have no fear, we are okay" with those simple words, her lungs filled with air, swelling her chest. She let out a sigh, laden with relief, laden with love. She could only nod in response.

"Sister, look!" Jacaerys exclaimed, drawing her attention. He lifted the lid of the large steel chest, releasing steam and revealing a dragon egg.

"We choose an egg for the baby" Lucerys added.

"That looks like the perfect one, brothers" she said with a smile, though a bittersweet taste filled her mouth. Unlike her brothers, her own egg had never hatched, a disappointment she carried permanently with her, though she tried not to show it in these moments of happiness.

"I let Luke choose" he said, she messed up the younger one's hair and planted a kiss on his head.

"Thank you, Jace."

"Not every day an egg leaves the dragonpit, my princess, I thought it best to escort the lads" intervened Harwin Strong, adorned in his imposing armor and golden cloak. It didn't surprise her seeing him there; in fact, despite having a different last name, she considered him part of her family.

He was her protector, who always escorted her to her room, pampered her with luxurious books, and listened attentively to every word she said. She had more memories of him than of her own father, but she didn't complain; she knew he was a busy man. Harwin had tried to teach her the art of the sword, insisting on the importance of knowing how to defend herself, but she always found herself more interested in books. Besides, she had the feeling that he would never neglect watching her back.

"Laenor and I thank you, Commander" she heard her mother say.

"Father, may I see it?" she asked. Laenor knelt down, allowing the three of them to meet the new member of the family. It only took one look for him to completely captivate her. She mentally swore that nothing would ever harm him as long as she breathed. "What a fine knight you are going to make, eh?"

"Another boy, I heard" Harwin cleared his throat. "Might I?" he asked, seeking her mother's approval. She thought she saw a glimpse of the same relief that filled her eyes.

"Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey" she said, smiling. Upon hearing that name, her lips formed another smile. Of course, she would have been equally happy if it were a girl, but she was glad to still be the only one. It had its advantages.

"Of course" Laenor agreed. Rising, he gently placed Joffrey in Harwin's arms.

"Joffrey, is it?" her father nodded in agreement to the question.

"Mother, please may I hold Joffrey?" she asked excitedly, reaching out her arms towards him. A futile attempt, of course, the man in front of her easily doubled her height.

"No, mother, let me go first! I'm the strongest, I won't let him fall!" her twin brother vociferated.

"I won't let him fall either!" she countered.

Her younger brother joined in the pleas, arguing that he had the right because he was the youngest. Soon, the words melded into an indistinguishable uproar, as all three clamored in unison.

"No, no, no" her father hastened as Harwin turned his back to them, trying to prevent the disturbances from reaching the ears of the newborn.

"I think you left your septa waiting, my little lady, and back to the dragon pit for you two, before they send out a search party" he ushered the three younger ones out of the room, and gently pushed their shoulders, guiding them down the hallway. First, towards the room she had left only minutes ago, where her septa awaited along with Helaena, her mother's younger sister.

Her father left her at the door, and the expression on her face, the one she believed she was successfully hiding, betrayed her. Laenor crouched down to her height, gently taking her cheeks in his hands, making her look at him.

"You know, Leana had an egg that didn't hatch... and she didn't ride a dragon until she was five and ten. Now she rides Vhagar," he tried to cheer her up, "your time will come, dear daughter, I promise."

She was filled with hope at her father's promises. He always had the right words. She thanked the man she loved so much with a kiss on the cheek, and now with renewed energy, she entered the room.

Despite the repeated complaints from the septa, they remained on the floor; she leaned her back against the wall, while Helaena rested her head on her legs. She explored the pages of the book while playing with her hair, and when a passage caught her attention, she read it aloud to her aunt, who entertained herself by watching a long insect walk on her hands. They didn't share the same interests, not even could it be said that they understood each other, but they enjoyed each other's company and were grateful of having another princess of almost the same age as a confidante.

"This one has 60 rings and two pairs of legs on each. That's 240" remarked Helaena.

"Yes, you're right, I think... Did you know that Vhagar is 170 years old?" she responded, her eyes widening at the new information. "That's exceptional."

"The last ring doesn't have legs," Helaena pointed out, overlooking her niece, more interested in the insect "it has eyes, though I don't believe it can see."

She furrowed her brow. "Why is that so?"

"It's beyond our understanding."

She didn't know how much time they had spent in that position, but when she shifted her attention from the book due to noises approaching from the corridors, she noticed that the septa had already left and in her place was Alicent. The new companion was sitting a few meters away from them, holding a cup of tea and with her gaze lost in the window.

Suddenly, two king’s guards burst into the room, each holding one of Aemond's arms, alarming her.

"Your grace" they left without waiting for any response, closing the doors behind them.

"Aemond, what have you done?" Alicent approached him quickly, scrutinizing him, and exclaimed exasperatedly while gripping his shoulders firmly, "after how many times you’ve been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers?"

"They made me do it!" the young prince shouted in his defense.

"As if you needed encouragement. Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding" she furrowed her brow again upon noticing the same phrase that had come out of Helaena's mouth minutes ago.

Returning her attention to the argument in front of her, she noted that the prince's platinum hair and his green garments were stained black. Realization fell into her, she widened her eyes, astonished. Had he really ventured into the dragon pit? Alone?

"They gave me a pig!"

"A what?" the queen asked.

"They said they found a dragon for me, but it was a pig" detailed, his voice breaking slightly.

She knew Aegon and she knew her brothers, and even though she was certain the last two had only been pawns used in the prank, a mixture of anger and disappointment washed over her. How could they tease and deceive the good prince in such a way? Worse still, with something that was also the cause of her tears.

"If he wants one, he'll have to close one eye" the princess beside her said, her gaze still fixed on the tiny entity. She spoke loud enough for only her to hear.

Her words were puzzling, and she didn't know how to interpret them. They could either indicate that she was still in her little world or suggest something deeper; it wouldn't be the first time for either option. She had heard her say... things before; at first, they seemed like mere nonsensical words, and suddenly something happened, something that reminded her of her words, something that led her to believe that her aunt had some kind of magic. No one had paid much attention to her when she shared her theory, dismissing it with disdain, saying they were just coincidences. But to her, it seemed like more than mere chance connections.

"Everyone laughed" Aemond murmured, trying to hide his sadness. Her anger now replaced by deep empathy. Alicent wrapped her arms around him, stroking his back.

The prince looked just as distressed as he left the hug and walked away as he did when he entered. It reminded her of her own feelings of desolation and loneliness, and she thought that there was no one in the kingdom who could understand her like he did. Not really.

She always had a special connection with Jace, a twin connection, as they enjoyed calling it. They understood each other with just looks, laughed at the same jokes, and shared the same tastes, except for the obvious; he loved his sword, she preferred her books. On the other hand, Luke had always been her little and spoiled one, her sweet and innocent child. That's why the situation had affected her so much. She didn't believe her brothers had meant to hurt Aemond, but they did anyway. They were insensitive, and she didn't want to see them grow up like Aegon, who with his character showed that he didn't know the true meaning of consequences.

It had been a few days since the incident in the pit and the birth of her brother, who was under the care of Diana, her mother's lady-in-waiting.

She tried not to lift her gaze from her plate and ate in silence, ignoring her brothers, offering them only monosyllabic responses. She was furious and intended to make it obvious. She huffed in frustration, trying to get her mother's attention so she could bring up the issue to the table.

"My dear, what troubles your mind?" she heard her mother ask as she gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

"Mother, have you heard about the incident in the dragon pit?" noticing her mother's concerned and confused look, she hurried to reassure her, "no one is hurt... not physically, at least."

"What happened?" her mother looked inquisitively at her sons, their heads looking down, ashamed.

"Jace, Luke, and Aegon played a prank on Prince Aemond. They told him they had a dragon for him and gave him a pig with wings, they even named it! Pink Dread." The children couldn't contain their laughter at the memory, which only made her angrier.

"Is that true?" her mother asked, wiping the smile from both their faces. It wasn't common to hear her upset or see her with a serious expression.

"It was just a joke!" Jace tried to justify.

"Aegon planned it!" Luke interjected.

"I don't want to hear justifications" she silenced them. "What if that joke had been towards your sister? Would you still be laughing?"

"It's different" Jace muttered, while Luke's lip trembled in a pout.

"No, it's not. Tomorrow during training, you will offer the appropriate apologies. From the heart. Aemond is family, and we must look out for each other. Isn't that so?"

"Yes, mother" they chorused, serious and repentant.

"Now you may retire to your chambers and think about what you've done," their mother pronounced, and before they could respond, she added, "no complaints." They nodded and left in silence.

"I think Aemond could use some kind words, don't you agree?" Rhaenyra suggested minutes later, breaking the silence. She responded with a smile, thanking her for understanding the importance of this to her. "Who better than you to do it?" She rose from her seat and embraced her gently, for she could see her still in pain. She planted a kiss on her forehead, the kind she cherished so much.

"Rest, mother. I'll ask the maester to make you some tea."

She smiled after hearing her daughter, thinking that any pain felt and to be felt would be an insignificant price to pay considering all she had gained. Jace, the next heir to the throne, who would reign with peace and intelligence; Luke and Joffrey, who would be the greatest and most honorable knights; and her daughter, her eternal and sweet companion.

There was no need to ask questions; she knew where to find him. A few floors up was the library, her second room, her refuge, where the world became a little quieter and she could transport herself to other times, places and lives.

She ascended the long stairs quickly, and within minutes, she stood at the door. This hallway had always been one of the least traveled, practically deserted, except for them and the king’s guards. It seemed there weren't many avid readers in the keep.

They used to be at opposite ends of the table, immersed in each of their books. She had always wanted to talk to him, ask him what he was reading and maybe ask him to teach her High Valyrian. However, she never did; she had been too shy in his presence, and Aemond's distant form didn't help. Perhaps he was shy like her.

Or perhaps he simply didn't want to talk to her.

She tried to push those thoughts to the back of her mind as she entered the library. She smiled to herself when she saw she hadn't been wrong.

"Good morrow, uncle" she announced her arrival as she headed to the usual shelf and picked up the book she had left halfway through a few days ago.

"Good morrow, niece" he responded with his usual seriousness.

She walked to the table and hesitated. Should she sit closer to him this time? She didn't want to invade his space, but she also didn't believe that a conversation should start at a distance.

She arrived at the table before deciding and stood there for a few seconds. She ended up placing her book at the usual spot and sat down, feeling uncomfortable.

Why was she feeling this way? She wasn't the one who played a distasteful joke, besides, he was family; they had grown up together in the castle, it shouldn't be so difficult.

Suddenly, she felt warmth engulf her when she noticed Aemond looking at her, puzzled. With the book still closed, her cheeks turned red as she realized she had been staring at him all this time, lost in her thoughts. She mentally cursed herself and searched for the page she was on. He looked away, not saying a word.

Her mother had asked her to talk to him and she had really wanted to, so she didn't understand why she found it so hard to approach him.

She audibly sighed and abruptly closed her book. He did the same seconds later. As always.

It was curious; every time they were here, they seemed… united, connected in their readings; when she finished, he did too, shortly after. They put away their books, and he walked to the exit, hurriedly, and then held the door, patiently waiting for her to exit. They parted ways upon reaching the floor of their chambers, all without exchanging a word other than greetings or thanks.

The king and the queen did a good job with him and Helaena. She couldn't say the same about Aegon, unfortunately.

She knew it was only a matter of seconds before he got up from his chair, so she cleared her throat and, with her book in hand, marched towards him.

Aemond furrowed his brow; he didn't seem upset, rather bewildered by the new proximity when she took the seat to his right and opened her book again, an action he imitated seconds later.

She found it impossible to read; she observed the page, but the words blurred together as her mind was occupied with something else. How should she start? It was clear they had something in common. Two things, in fact. Long conversations weren't necessary to know it, so she ventured there.

She cleared her throat, trying to get his attention, without success. Then, timidly, she placed her hand on his, causing an immediate reaction.

He remained still, stunned by her movements. He just looked at her, with eyes wider than usual. It was then that she realized how different they were from the rest of their family. Her grandsire, her mother, Aegon, Helaena, they all had eyes as clear as the sky on a sunny day. But not him, his were darker, bluer, with a trace of purple in them. As deep as the sea, and as beautiful as a sapphire. His hair was straighter, platinum, and even softer, she would dare to say.

How she wished to have the Targaryen attributes, just as distinctive as they were beautiful. Another one of her biggest insecurities and sorrows. It wasn't uncommon for people to be surprised when they saw her and her siblings next to their parents, as they hadn't inherited such beauty. They were equally pale, but with a tumultuous mane, full of curls, of the darkest black and eyes sometimes green, sometimes brown.

Once again, she felt the red fill her cheeks, her gaze lost in him as her thoughts swirled.

"Do you know that my father's sister also had an unhatched egg? Just like us," she said, softly, looking him in the eyes and trying to comfort him, "now she's the rider of Vhagar, the oldest, largest, and most feared dragon in the entire kingdom."

She waited for a response that didn't come. "I like to believe that our wait will be rewarded, don't you?" then added. He only nodded, almost imperceptibly, without taking his eyes off hers, "I wanted to apologize."

Now with a confused look, Aemond finally decided to respond, "why?"

"They shouldn't have done it... It was cruel." Understanding dawned on him.

"No need to apologize for something that you did not do, niece." She couldn't help but smile at his words. Was he always so serious and formal? She thought he was like an adult trapped in the body of a little boy. An old soul.

"Can I ask you something?" she inquired.

"Yes, of course."

"Did you really enter the dragon pit? Alone?" she asked, curious. She noticed his face changing, a smirk of pride forming, his lips curling up into a small smile as he straightened up in his chair, now more upright.

"Yes, I did."

"Did you see any?"

"Yes, but it was too dark to know which one..." he began, with a spark in his eyes, and noticing her attentive gaze, he decided to continue "it throwed fire in my direction" he added, her eyes wider than before, conveying her astonishment.

"Gods! You must have been so terrified."

"Not really" he simply responded.

"That was... you're incredibly brave, my prince. I wouldn't have had the courage" she said and received a wide smile in return. She had never called him "my prince" before and she had never seen him smile.

She continued to listen attentively. No history book had ever excited her as much as the prince's adventures, and seeing him so enthusiastic about telling them filled her chest with something she didn't know how to name. Something warm. She liked it.

Despite it being their first real conversation, and the first time they looked each other in the eyes, there was a mutual understanding, a connection, different, special. One that went beyond being dragonless riders or relatives raised under the same roof.

It seemed to her that only a few minutes had passed when she felt a knock on the doors and a voice announcing that it was supper time and Alicent awaited for her son's presence. Both of them showed disappointment at the interruption; he seemed to have so much more to say and she hadn't had enough of his words. She thought she could listen to him for the rest of her days.

"Forgive me, niece, I must have tired your ears," he said before standing up, "and I didn't ask about your stories; you must think me rude." His words elicited a laugh from her lips, as it couldn't be further from the truth.

"Not at all, I would have liked to keep listening to you. Besides, I don't have stories as brave as yours, and I wouldn't want to bore you to exhaustion" she replied.

Once they had put the books back in their place, they walked to the door.

"I do not think that's possible" Aemond communicated with his hand on the doorknob. There was silence as they descended the stairs with the guards behind them.

"Goodnight, my princess" he said once they reached the floor, calling her that way for the first time.

"Goodnight, my prince."

"Perhaps tomorrow we could... continue?" It came out almost as a whisper from Aemond's lips. A smile on hers.

"Nothing would make me happier."

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #house targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fluff

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faetreides · 14 hours

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🍒🍦 ⸺ ᳂ cherry vanilla dr. pepper !!!

cw: afab reader, voyeurism, tashi and you make out while you get pounded, weird amalgamation of dehumanization/objectification/pet play, subby!art coded, spit roasting at the end, slight overstimulation, bizarre orgy vibes, mean dom!tashi to everyone but you <3, implied breeding/creampie kink, canon typical mind games, tashi sits in the cuck chair /j, implied romantic feelings but no mention of established romantic relationships, slight mxm, clit stimulation, one use of “mommy”

happy challengers day 🎾💚

consider commissioning me or leaving me a tip !

“Round 4 will be the last one, alright? Get ready, baby.”

You take deep breaths, clutching onto Patrick’s wrist. You lock eyes with Tashi, feeling syrupy sweet deep in your gut. She grins and unbuttons the top buttons of her shirt, leaving you three to your own devices for now.

The stretch of Patrick’s cock stings and burns a little but Art nipping at your hip bones helps distract you. Patrick pants against the nape of your neck, you feel so divinely tight he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.

He keeps his voice low so Tashi can’t hear him, “Fuck-you feel incredible, i’d kill for this pussy, you know that.”

“Hook your arm around their neck, good boy.” Tashi instructs Patrick, leaning back in the hotel chair and palming her pussy at the sight in front of her.

“Yes, ma’am.” He swiftly calls back, acting like he hadn’t said anything to you at all.

Patrick has you in a headlock, pummeling his cock in and out of your pussy with reckless abandon. Art is beneath the two of you, suckling on your clit like it’s a nipple he’s trying to get milk out of. He licks where you’re stretched around Patrick, drawing groans from you both and a chuckle from Tashi.

“Be a good dog and lap them up, okay? I’d hate to have to take away your toy privileges.” She sneers, sliding her damp underwear to the side and stroking her slit.

The “toy” in the equation isn't you.

You’re dead to the world, eyes bulging out of their sockets and nails trying to rip the white sheet to shreds. Your head and tits rock back and forth with Patrick’s thrusts, already on the brink of your fourth orgasm. You try to scream that you can’t take anymore, but you wanna make Tashi proud so you shut up.

“ ‘s so good…” Art hums into your mound, pecking little kisses onto it here and there.

His sounds are muffled but the vibrations send your eyes to the back of your head. The chair in the corner of the room creaks as Tashi gets up, and the second you lift your head and open your eyes, she’s smiling down at you with all the warmth she doesn’t give the men pleasing you. This isn’t about them, it never was.

“Patrick’s so big, Tashi-he’s unggggh-he’s gonna kill me!” You whine, desperately pawing at her clothed breasts.

She coos and pulls her blouse up, bringing your hands to cup her tits and keeping them there, “Baby you know he’s not, this pussy can take a beating. I’d only give you the best toys.”

You nod wordlessly, pouting your lips. She gets the message and claims your lips in a searing kiss, luxuriating in the slick slide of your lips. She loves to make it messy, getting spit all over your mouths and letting it drip on the bed.

Art mewls and flicks your clit, trying to get your attention. You feel bad and try to pull away from Tashi, but she yanks you back into the kiss and bites your lip as a punishment. You hiccup into her mouth, startled when Patrick starts jackhammering into you.

Tashi typically has them alternate, but Art prefere to bury his face between your thighs and Patricks likes to play with fire by cumming inside your sore cunt. He doesn’t speak as much as Art does, but sometimes he holds Tashi stare as you two make out. They’ll have to retire from Tashi’s “employment” eventually, and they’ll be taking you with them when they do. All games of keep away end.

Patrick traces letters and shapes on the glistening skin of your sweaty back, sloppy hearts and ‘ I - L - O - V - E - Y - O - U ‘ s.

You gasp and wrench yourself back to breathe. Art flattens his tongue and licks broad stripes over your labia. He nuzzles his nose into you, stopping to pant and take in your smell. He may be delusional, but he’s convinced that every part of you is so sweet. He honest to God can’t get enough, he’d lie in a puddle at your feet if you wanted him too.

Sometimes you feel torn when you fall into bed with your lovers. You’re too soft to be like Tashi, but that exact softness is exactly why you can’t handle being away from her for too long. Maybe you’ve fallen under her spell just like all the rest, but she puts her career on the line to prove how special you are.

Patrick pulls you up to rest your back against your chest. You let your head fall onto his shoulder and you moan when he adjusts the angle of his thrusts to rub against your cervix repeatedly. He wasn’t like this when the evening started, Patrick only roughens you up when you’ve been thoroughly run through and can take it with a dopey smile and glazed eyes.

“Keep going, it’s okay- want it-want you.” You cry out to Patrick, reaching down to caress his hip.

He smiles and licks your cheek, complying with your request.

Art grins up at you with his eyes, mouthing ‘That’s my angel, only for us.’ into the flesh of your inner thigh. He moves to Patrick balls and takes them into his mouth, bobbing them up and down with his tongue. Patrick moans as Art laves his balls in saliva. Art lets them fall out of his mouth, curling his tongue around the inches peeking out of your pussy and hollowing his cheeks out.

“Shit! Stop, ‘m gonna cum!” Patrick hisses through his teeth.

He either empties another load into you or he just refuses to cum if your pussy’s not available, period.

“They’re so hungry for it, aren’t they? Well, can he? Can our dog cum inside you, baby?” Tashi tsks, cupping your cheeks and bringing your attention back to her.

“Yes, yes, yes! He can cum inside-please let him cum inside mommy-i need it so bad-wanna be stuffed full with it!” You whimper and arch your back, jutting your tits out.

Tashi laughs and leans down to suck one of your pert nipples into her mouth, bouncing your other breast in her hand. Tears spill from your waterline down to her freshly manicured nails. Art has since gone back to sucking the life out of your clit, and the little wink he sends you doesn’t help you hold back your impending orgasm.

Patrick thrusts a few more times and then you’re cumming in sync. You go brain dead and your body locks up in his arms. You’re out of it for a good few minutes, and when you have full awareness again you see Art kneeling in front of you. He holds his dick out for you to gawk at, slowly pumping himself for your amusement.

Patrick hasn’t pulled out of your pussy but he doesn’t fuck you again, he jostles his hips to find the most comfortable position for his softening cock to plug you up.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He huffs and pushes you back down on all fours.

“You need your mouth taken care of too.” Art whines and squeezes his cock around the base, beckoning you closer with a ‘come hither’ gesture.

Said man is tenderly and carefully bundling up your hair in his arm and casting it aside, giving him ample space on your back to pet. He rubs the pink tip of his cock along your jawline, he gives you a fresh coat of lip gloss via his precum as he slaps your plump lips with his cockhead.

“It’s kinda like sucking off a dildo attached to a mirror, don’t think too hard about it.” Tashi tells you, crouching down to suck the small divot in your back.

She sits back in the cheap black hotel chair, shrugging her blouse off and pinching her nipples.

You moan at the first taste of Art’s cock, longer than Patrick’s but with less heft to it. You peer out of the corner of your eye to see if Tashi’s still watching, and you feel silly when you realize that she always is.

“Doing good, baby, keep it up.”

But that’s the thing, they’re all watching you now. It’s not hard to be a pathetic bottom that needs to be coddled and tended to at all times. It’s never difficult to stroke the fire in someone’s ego, you’ve had an easier job of that than anything else.

You saw them all together on the court, you were there for lessons that didn’t work out. Who knows how long ago, it feels like a lifetime, but all it took was one look to recognize what was destined to be yours. You couldn’t give less of a fuck about Tennis in actuality, but you sure do love the players.

They all have hearts in their eyes as they watch you. Art with his dick deep down your throat, his legs are trembling as he tries to stop himself from fucking your face. Patrick, still making a forever home for himself in your guts, his eyes are so dark you have to repress a shiver. And Tashi, knuckles deep in her pussy, finger fucking herself to the pretty little show her baby puts on with their toys.

When the boys are asleep, you’ll bounce on her ribbed strap until you shatter all over again.

Now, Is it cheating to win a game when people don’t realize that you're playing?

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or put my works into ai

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starlight-bread-blog · 2 days

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The Fortune in The Fortune Teller

This is an isolated look into this specific episode.

The Fortune Teller is the 14th episode of book 1 of Avatar: The Last Airbender. It is famous for supposedly developping the show's romantic subplot between Katara and A\ang. The episode does two things: A\ang attempts to flirt with Katara, and Katara is finally willing to consider him as more than just a friend.

However, I believe that this episode could have masterfully foreshadowed the pair not getting together in the end. In this essay I will detail how each step the episode takes towards a Kat@ang endgame is actually foreshadowing the opposite.

1. Katara and the Nature of Destiny

In the beginning, the Gaang meets a person getting attacked by a bear. He is acting incredibly passive, simply dodging the bear's attemps at his life. Then, A\ang and Appa interfere to help the man. When the Gaang questions him on why he was so passive, he says it's because the Fortune Teller told him he'd have a safe journey. They then have the following exchange:

The man's logic is obviously flawed. If the Gaang didn't interfere, if the man continued to passivaly dodge, the bear would have attacked him. Fortune and destiny come from agency – from actively shaping them.

However, Katara is delaited at the prospect of seeing the future. Her and the Gaang go to meet the Fortune Teller, Aunt Wu. Aunt Wu tells her she'll marry a very powerful bender. Later, she comes back asking more details about her future husband. Remember her excitment, fantacising about her future husband:

After that, Katara becomes somewhat reliant on Aunt Wu's prophecies. She goes as far as to ask her what she should eat.

And she obeys her "prophecy", despite not wanting to. She became like the man from the beginning. She knowingly follows the fortune even though it doesn't make sense. She had given up on forging her own destiny.

Although by the end of the episode, she is no longer in this state of reliance, she still believes in the prophecies. Then, Sokka says that A\ang is a very powerful bender. This reminds her of what Aunt Wu said about her future husband. I don't want to cherry pick, so I took 4 different pictures of her face when she realizes A\ang might be the powerful bender she is to marry:

With the look in her eyes, with her mouth tilted down and with the ominous music, this could easily be read as disappointment. Especially when remembering how she fantacized about the powerful bender earlier in the episode. She doesn't smile, but looks concerned. As if she doesn't want this. Earlier in the episode, she says this:

A\ang is like the papaya. The fortune says he's right for her, but Katara doesn't want him. Now, she isn't like the man, passively dodging the bear attacking her. She shouldn't sit and wait for the prophecy to come true point blank. She has the agency to shape her own destiny and not to choose A\ang as her future husband.

2. A\ang, Meng, and First Crushes

In this episode we're introduced to a girl named Meng. Aunt Wu told her she'd end up with someone like A\ang, and so she developped a one sided crush on him. Throughout the episode she attempts to talk to him, all to no avail. Because A\ang is not interested in her.

Interestingly, her one sided crush is directly paralleled to A\ang's crush on Katara.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Exhibit C:

Please note that in exhibits B and C in particular, there is an emphasis on the other party not reciprocating their feelings.

In this parallel the show draws, A\ang is Meng, the younger, shorter one the one who is in love; and Katara is A\ang, the older, taller one who... *checks notes*... doesn't reciprocate.

But in the end, A\ang and Meng have a heart-to-heart.

Sometimes you'll like someone, and they aren't going to feel the same way, and even though it's hard, it's okay. They're young, just kids having a crush. A\ang responds to this with "I know what you mean". Because he, just like the audience that watched the parallels, knows that Katara likely doesn't return his feelings.

———————

In conclusion, The Fortuneteller could have been brilliant foreshadowing to Kata\ang not being the endgame couple, and it would have done so through beautiful, mature lessons about first loves and destiny. Thank you for reading.

#anti kataang #zutara #atla critical #anti anti zutara #pro zutara #zutara analysis #zutara evidence #zutara forever #zutara meta #zutara nation #zutara should have been canon #zutar #zutara supremacy #zuko x katara #katara x zuko #katara #meng

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myhaikyuuacademia · 2 days

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Totally Fake | Ant Vaughn x reader (Heartbreak High) ||

This is officially a series haha, trying to make it slowburn-ish but let's see if i can hold myself back

Fake dating, fem!reader

@foxxyhun

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Thankfully you had managed to get Ant’s number by Friday, not so thankfully you spent all day chatting with him about stupid, irrelevant stuff and Not about what your gameplan was going to be. And if, IF, you were actually going to the party later this evening, he’d probably be too wasted to talk about it anyway. Which means SLUTS was the last chance you had with him still sober and not hungover. Except you had no idea how to go about it, especially without drawing the attention of your friends who had been watching you like hawks all week. You were the first one in the classroom, anxiously ripping your notebook paper into tiny shreds while thinking about all the logistics. You didn’t get very far when you sensed someone sitting down next to you. “What did the poor paper do to deserve that?” Ant asked amusedly. “Wrong place, wrong time.” You grimaced and shrugged, immediately stopping and throwing all the paper shreds into your pencil case. “Oh no, don’t stop because of me, I’m sure it deserved it.” He joked before settling in his seat. “You don’t wanna sit next to your friends?” You asked, with a nod to the table they usually sat at. “Nah, I’d rather sit with my girlfriend.” He said casually. You didn’t feel very casual as you choked on your spit. God how embarrassing. It took you a minute to calm down, Ant worriedly asking if you were okay, and offering you some of his water, which you declined with a hand gesture as you were starting to calm down. “Sorry, sorry, I’m fine.” You coughed out. “Actually, that’s what I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” He looked at you, almost disappointed, “You’re backing out?” He assumed. “What? No!” You hurried to say. “I wanted to talk about lining up our stories and everything, ground rules and stuff, you know?” Relief flooded his face, “Ah, okay gotcha!” He seemed much happier. The class was slowly filling up and you were dreading the moment your friends would enter. “Well I already told pretty much everyone that you’re my girlfriend.” He added, catching you completely offguard as you watched the doorway waiting for the inevitable arrival of your friends. “Oh.” Surprised you turned your head to look at him. “Okay.” You added after a second. “What about your mom?”

“Nah, not her yet. But like, Spider and Dusty.” He clarified. Your face felt warm. “Did you tell them it was fake too?” You leaned in closer to whisper it, now that the class was almost full. “No.” He grinned at you conspiringly. You grinned back at him, his answer, and the way he looked at you, making your whole body tingle. “Oh. My. God.” Darrens dramatic voice came from opposite the table. “You two totally ARE together.” Amerie beside them looked satisfied with herself, while Quinni stimmed excitedly, jumping up and down and clapping her hands. They sat down at your table while Ant put an arm around your shoulder, “Yeah, so what?” He asked. Your face was burning, as was the parts where his arm touched you. Darrens mouth wide agape, while Quinni looked just as excited as before. “Oh my god, y/n, that’s so cute!! Congrats!” She said, happily, but after a second she looked a little less happy and a little more confused. Disappointed, even. “But why didn’t you tell us?” She asked. “Thrill of a secret relationship I bet.” Amerie added, feeling much cooler than she actually was. “But really, him?” Darren pointed at Ant. Wow rude. Your brows furrowed and you leaned into the boy next to you a little more without noticing. “What do you mean? You don’t think he's cute?” Trying to paddle back Darren stuttered out something a long the lines of, “No, that’s not what I mean, I just, I didn’t think he was your type is all.” “well, to be fair, we never knew what her type was.” Quinni added. “She never told us who she was crushing on, or what she liked in a guy, or girl.” You nodded, she was telling the truth, you usually kept things like that to yourself. “Well, I for one, am happy for you two, though I totally didn’t get any vibes when I was asking for a slap band earlier this week.” Amerie said, crossing her arms. She sounded accusing, like she was about to interrogate the two of you, when thankfully Miss Obah asked everyone to pay attention and started class. Ant didn’t take his arm off your shoulder the whole time.

When he finally did, after class ended, you couldn’t suppress your pout. Logically, you understood it was so both of you could pack your things, but this whole thing didn’t feel very logical, no matter how hard you tried. So instead, once both of you had finished, you grabbed his hand and threaded your fingers with his. Still slightly pouting. He looked down at you and laughed, “What now?” “I think she’s upset you took your arm off of her.” Darren, eagle-eyed gossip lover they are, supplied. “Oh, really?” Ant seemed surprised and looked at you for confirmation. “Yeah, kinda.” You mumbled embarrassed, avoiding his gaze. He chuckled before leaning in close and whispering in your ear. “I’ll touch you all you want at the party later.” Your face was beet red. “Ant!” You whisper shouted, scandalized and wide-eyed. He just tugged you along with him, towards the school exit. “They’re so cute together.” You overheard Quinni say to Amerie and Darren behind you. “Something’s fishy.” Both of them replied in unison. You ignored it, keeping going with Ant. “What now?” You asked once outside the school gate, still holding his hand. Refusing to be the one to let go, actually. “Well, I have some time before the party starts, which, you totally are going to right?” He asked in such a way that you felt a no would break his heart, so you just nodded. How come you are immune to peer-pressure when it was your friends but not when it was the guy you’ve been fake-dating for less than a week. “Great! Well, wanna hang out until then?” You smiled. “Sure!! Oh, we can talk about the logistics of it all, like when did we even start dating and what church do I go to? Or is that even something that’s important to your mother?” You dragged him along, totally rambling at this point about all the different things you had to decide on for the story to be foolproof. When you turned to look at him, waiting for him to say something, you noticed the way he was smiling at you. “Oh, what? Am I overthinking?” You questioned out loud. “No, no, it’s fine. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that much.” He still looked at you in a way you had trouble deciphering. “Oh. Well, I guess I don’t talk a lot. Usually. But also we haven’t really spoken before this week so…” You trailed off. “Hmmh, yeah, but we’ve been in the same year for a while now.” He said, before turning back to look at the way ahead. “You usually only talk when spoken to.” Oh. He had noticed that? He had noticed you? Before you ever talked to him? “Oh, um. I guess that’s right.” You squeezed his hand subconsciously. “I like hearing you talk.” He squeezed your hand back. “Plus, you’re so smart, I wouldn’t have thought about half of the things you mentioned. Maybe we should write it all down.” You nodded. “Yeah, good idea.”

“Woah, your room is awesome.” Ant was currently walking through your room looking at all the little trinkets that were… everywhere frankly. Picking them up and putting them down again. “Haha, thanks.” You sat on the edge of your bed, not knowing what to do with yourself as you watched him. “Woah, you like Marvel?” He seemed genuinely surprised. “Uh yeah, I love it.” You laughed. He put the action figure down and turned around, very serious all of a sudden. ��This calls for a movie night.” He explained. You grinned. “Sure, I’m always up for a movie.. But let’s talk business first.” You scooched to the side and patted the spot next to you. He groaned dramatically and walked over before sitting down. “Why does this feel like homework all of a sudden.” Your face scrunched up at that. “Sorry. But this is just so our story doesn’t fall apart.” He turned to look at you, head hanging to the side. “You really think it’s necessary?” “Well. Yeah.” You reply. “What if your mom asks us how we met, our what our first date was, and we say different things. Better to be prepared.” He pouts playfully, “Well, fine I guess.” In the end you agree on simple things, you met at school, duh, and worked a project together, after which you became friends, before Ant asked you on a date to the diner, and then a second date to the movies, before asking you to be his girlfriend. Easy enough. He said it was okay not to go to church as long as you were still acting Christian enough in front of his mom. Whatever that means. The reason he was only introducing you now was because you could disprove what was written on the map. You were scared of meeting his parents, so it had taken you a while to gather the courage, and he wanted to be sure before bringing a girlfriend home. Easy. Plausible. Good story. Boring, but believable. In the end you wrote it all down, twice, one copy for you and one for him, just in case you needed it. “Can we finally watch a movie?” He whined as you gave him his paper. “I don’t know, the party is soon, and I don’t know about you, but I definitely have to get ready. You think we can manage to squeeze a movie in?” He nodded, completely convinced. “How long can it take to get ready.” Not believing this was an issue. “Oh buddy…If only you knew.” You patted his shoulder before getting your remote and turning on the tv. It was difficult, at first, to concentrate on the movie, when he was so close and warm, shoulder against shoulder, and legs touching. Your body felt on fire. After a while he wrapped his arm around you too, pulling you ever so slightly closer, if that was even possible.

“Oh! I love this part.” He pointed towards the screen with the hand not resting on your hip. “What? No way, that’s my favorite part.” You looked up at him excitedly. “No way!” He turned to look at you too. You nodded emphatically. “You’re so cool.” He gave you a squeeze. He turned back towards the screen, and you did too, after staring at him for a little while longer. In the end, he ended up staying, watching you get ready, since there was no time for him to go home before Dusty’s band performed. “Whoa, wait, what is that?” You were about to put on your fake lashes, putting glue on the strip when Ant’s head popped up next to you, dangerously close to poking your lash with his finger. “My fake lashes.” You explained. “Your lashes are fake?” He turned to you, staring intensely into your eyes, inspecting your lashes. “No, well yes, sometimes. I have real lashes. The one you’re looking at right now.” You laughed. “But sometimes I put on fake lashes, which looks kinda-“ You leaned towards the mirror to put your lashes on. “like this.” You said, leaning back to show him. “Oh my god that’s crazy.” He breathed out, totally stunned, which made you laugh even harder. After that he stayed next to you, watching you apply your makeup closely. “Hmmm..” You pursed your lips as you put the last thing in place. “I think that’s it.” You concluded. Before you could even turn to the side to face him, his voice piped up as he asked: “Can you put some on me?” The request came unexpectedly, but you happily obliged. You opted for some chrome glimmery dark blue green ish, you didn’t really know how to describe it, glitter shadow to put on top of his eyelids. Dabbing it in softly, he leaned in closely and you could feel his breath on your skin. “Okay, try opening your eyes.” You requested softly, holding his chin in your hand and looking at him intensely, assessing your work. He opened his eyes hesitantly. Chewing on your lip you came to the conclusion that this look needed some black liner, so you added a line underneath his eyes on his waterline, dragging it out into a straight “wing”. A difficult job, with this being a sensitive area and Ant not used to having stuff put this close to his eyes. He kept squirming and blinking, but eventually you got the job done to your satisfaction. “This looks sick.” You say as you remove your hands from his face and lean back. Giving him time to admire himself in your mirror, you put away your brushes and powders and liners. “You want to do something to your hair too?” He turned to look at you at that. “Kinda.” You look on your phone to check the time, before grimacing. “Sorry, I don’t think we have time. Actually we really need to go if we wanna make it in time.” You stand up and hold your hand out to him, pulling him up from where he was sitting. Your friends were definitely going to give you shit about barely reaching out to them later.

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haoboutyou · 2 days

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hi!! ur mornings with u with wonu fic is so so so sweet ahhhh 😭😭 i was wondering if you’d be open to writing a seungkwan version? i hope this is okay to ask!!

to love to the point of invention | boo seungkwan

fluff | 574 words | food mention: a lot of tangerines

an: fren i’m so sorry this took awhile!! you must understand i wrote two entirely different drabbles and then made @bluehoodiewoozi choose 😔🫶 thank u for reading the wonu fic!! hope you enjoy this one too 👉👈

wonu ver. | coups ver.

a weekend trip to jeju-do meant that your little apartment was now stocked up with a whole carton of tangerines enough to last you a whole month. naturally, you’ve learned to get creative with it. cake, sorbet, marmalade– you name it, you’ve probably already done it.

maybe that’s why you’ve resorted to scrolling through pinterest for ideas. all you’ve found so far are just even more variants of the aforementioned desserts.

sorbet.

cake.

marmalade.

repeat.

you sigh, looking up from your spot in the kitchen. seungkwan’s seated on the sofa, nose buried deep in a book he bought at the jeju airport before your flight back earlier this morning. it may have been 4pm now, but his hair is still a little mussed from accidentally taking a nap in the plane earlier. you giggle to yourself, inwardly cooing over how your boyfriend looks like a teddy bear.

oh. a light bulb dings in your mind.

this time, you carefully carve out a little bear head, arms and feet out of the peel. it sticks out of the tangerine like a little round teddy bear.

“seungkwan!”

the pitter-patter of your feet causes him to look up from his book, nestled comfortably on the sofa. setting aside the book, he gestures you to take a seat next to him.

you tuck in your legs under you on the sofa, all while balancing a plate with your hands. the sweet scent of tangerines flood his senses. you’re grinning at him, proudly showing off your latest work of art as you extend the plate towards him.

“is that a bear?” you nod enthusiastically.

he tilts his head as he takes the plate from you, rotating it and examining the poor tangerine from all angles. he scrunches his nose and frowns, much like a highly-established critic judging actual artworks. it doesn’t take long for him to break out into a grin as big as yours.

he holds the tangerine-bear to his face. “how is it? do we match?”

“100%!”

“aigo, our y/nnie is such a talented artist!!” he balances the plate on one hand, swinging his free arm around you to pull you into a hug.

“–eek!”

the sudden momentum causes you both to fall back on the sofa, you landing on top of him. it’s a miracle that the plate hasn’t spilled over, you think.

your little yelp draws a giggle from seungkwan, and soon enough, you’re both doubled over with laughter.

laughter finally bubbling down, you pull yourself away from seungkwan’s cozy embrace. you take the plate from seungkwan and set it down on the coffee table in front of you.

“did you like it?”

he leans in to plant a peck on your cheek. “it’s adorable. i love it.”

“great, because i made like five more in the kitchen!”

his jaw comically drops at your words, and it only serves to make you laugh even harder. instead, he chooses to wipe your diabolical grin with a kiss, effectively silencing you. he grabs onto your waist, pulling you in once again as he leaned back down on the sofa. wrapping your arms around his neck, you can only succumb to his addictive lips as they chase after yours fervorously.

is this what they call to ‘love to the point of invention’? you shrug off such a silly thought. surely that’s not marvel enough to be called an invention of love.

maybe you’ll try making tanghulu tomorrow.

#seventeen fluff #seungkwan fluff #boo seungkwan #seungkwan #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #svt #boo seungkwan fluff #svt fluff #˙✧˖° aiyu writes ༘ ⋆｡˚

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ivantillz · 1 day

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can u write a fic of ivantill navigating their feelings after the kiss if they were both saved by the rebels

Till was annoyed. He was also feeling a lot of other things, undoubtedly, but annoyance was at the top of the list because why wouldn't they just let him see Ivan already?

"Can you please stop pacing?"

He paused mid-step and glanced over at Mizi.

"I just found out one of my friends who I honestly thought was dead has actually been alive this whole time and my other friend is currently being operated on after nearly giving his life to save me. Sorry if I'm a little antsy."

Mizi gave a small smile, undeterred by his bluntness as usual. Or what used to be usual. Till wasn't so sure what had or hadn't changed.

"He'll be okay, I promise." Even as she said it, her eyes were drawn to the closed door. They couldn't even hear anything through the thick metal. "You heard them; the wound was pretty minor. Just grazed his side."

Till pressed his lips into a thin line, hands curled into fists at his sides.

"Why did he do that?" he asked, barely louder than a whisper. Mizi stood up and crossed the hall, drawing him into a hug. He used to dream about this - having her undivided attention - but now it did little to ease the terrible pain in his chest.

Sniffing once, he hugged her tight. She didn't say anything, even as began to cry into her shoulder.

It was nearly two hours before the door opened and one of the healers - Mizi had introduced them but honestly Till couldn't remember her name; he had been kind of traumatized at the time, okay? - stepped out.

Till tried very hard not to focus on the blood staining the front of her shirt. "He's stable," she said.

"Okay, great." Till didn't even wait before trying to push past her; she didn't budge. "Come on! I just want to see him."

She smiled politely. "I didn't say you couldn't. Just try and be quiet, okay? He might be doze in and out, don't try to force him to stay awake."

Till pursed his lips. "I know," he grumbled. Mizi joined his side.

"Thank you," she said. With a shared nod, the healer left. Inside the room was the other healer; he quietly set a rag on Ivan's forehead before also leaving the room.

"He still has a slight fever," he explained. "If he asks, you can refresh the rag." He pointed to a bucket on the table with what Till could only hope was clean water.

Once he was gone, Till walked over to the bed and sat down. Mizi sat on the other side of the bed. Ivan hadn't stirred since they walked in.

He looked bad - terrible, even. His skin was even paler than usual, there was a bit of crusted blood still at the corner of his mouth, dark circles under his eyes.

But he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

"I'll just stay until he wakes up," Mizi said quietly, staring at him. "I just want to make sure he's okay."

Till had almost forgotten he wasn't the only one who had been wounded by what happened. He suddenly felt a little guilty.

"You don't have to leave," he said instead.

She smiled over at him; there was something about the look in her eyes that made Till feel exposed. He didn't like the feeling. "I think you two need to talk."

He didn't argue, even if the last thing he wanted to do right now was talk about what had happened. Any of it.

Ivan woke up about ten minutes later; he was groggy, as expected, voice hoarse and scratchy.

"Here." Till moved without even thinking, grabbing a cup he had noticed on the table a little earlier.

Ivan was too weak to even hold it. Till adapted quickly; he held the cup to his lips and tilted it back a little. Once Ivan was done, he set it aside again.

"So," he licked his lips. "I guess this isn't heaven, huh?"

Mizi laughed softly. "Not even close. But you're safe here, at least."

He sighed, groaning a little as he tried to sit up. Till moved quickly, gently grabbing his arm to help him. He wasn't even sure if he should be moving yet but he wasn't about to fight him; that just seemed like asking for even more trouble.

"I really expected to die up there," he said once he was settled, the rag fallen at his side. Till grabbed it, plopping it in the bucket for now.

Mizi pressed her lips together. "I think I'm going to go see if they have anything that'll be easy enough on your stomach," she said, gently touching Ivan's shoulder as she stood.

"I'm not hungry," he replied automatically.

She clicked her tongue. "Too bad; you need to eat to recover."

Without waiting for a reply, she swept around the bed and paused just long enough to squeeze Till's shoulder once before leaving the room.

The silence was almost suffocating.

"You weren't really choking me," Till blurted.

Ivan side-eyed him. "Of course not," he said slowly. "Did you really think I would?"

Till opened his mouth, closed it. "I'm not really sure of anything anymore," he admitted quietly.

"It was just a ploy," Ivan continued, looking away. "I don't know. I just needed them to believe it."

It was silent again for a few beats. Till stared at his hands.

"You could've killed me," he said eventually. "I didn't care."

He chanced a look; Ivan was still staring ahead at nothing, his mouth a tight line. "I would've never let that happen," he said and for a moment Till wasn't sure what he meant until - "I would've done anything to ensure your safety."

And that was the crux of it, huh?

Till thought of Ivan's hands around his throat, surprisingly gentle. He thought about his mouth. His lips. He had kissed Till like he was searching for something. Like he needed something.

"You kissed me," he said. It felt weird, finally saying the words.

Ivan snorted, shaking his head minutely. "I did." He side-eyed Till again. "I know it was selfish of me. I know."

"But if you could do it over again, would you still kiss me?"

Till wasn't even sure what had motivated him to ask. Ivan smiled; it was almost sad. "Probably."

He nodded. He wasn't upset. He wasn't even sure if he had been upset, in the moment, not for longer than a second. Mostly he had been confused.

But now that he had time to think on it, he wasn't so confused anymore.

"I never knew," he mused quietly. "I mean." He looked up, suddenly a little angry. "You never told me. You should've told me."

All that time he had been chasing after Mizi and a part of him had always known it was never going to happen. She had loved - she still did - love Sua.

Time wasted. He had never even considered...

"There was no reason to burden you with my own feelings," Ivan said evenly. "I'm selfish, maybe, but I didn't want to make things even more complicated for you."

Till breathed out through his nose. "You really think you were doing that for my sake?" he asked, struggling to keep his voice level. "You think you had the right to decide what was best for me?"

Ivan stared back at him, eyes as dark as ever. "I don't understand."

"You kept it from me," Till continued, pressing a hand to his chest, "because you were scared to say it. You were scared of how I would respond."

Ivan let out a humorless laugh. "We both know how you would've responded, Till." He sighed. "This is a pointless argument to have."

He still wasn't getting it. "No," he said, leaning closer. "We don't know how I would've responded because you never gave me the chance."

"Just like you gave the same chance to Mizi?" he shot back.

Till pressed his lips together. "That is not the same and you know it. Sua loved her back. It was different. I - " He paused, biting the inside of his cheek.

Suddenly the fight was drained out of him. Ivan eyed him warily.

"You what?" he asked, looking cautious and almost nervous. Till had never seen that expression on his face. He always looked so in control of everything. It was nice to be reminded he was really just human like the rest of them.

Till swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I think I could've liked you, Ivan. If only I had known."

Ivan stared at him like he wasn't really seeing him. "No," he said, too fast. He looked more scared, here, than he had up on that stage.

"Didn't factor that into your little plan, huh?" he asked; without asking, he pulled the rag out of the water and wrung it before leaning forward to gently scrub away the dried blood on his chin. "I don't think I ever really liked her, not in the way I thought I did."

Ivan was silent, his jaw clenched.

"I was just - I needed something. An escape. A dream. She was nice to me. Pretty..." Till sat back. "I think I just really wanted someone to care about me."

Ivan glanced at him briefly before looking away again.

"But this whole time I was blind to see I had that," Till felt his eyes burning. "Maybe you weren't as obvious about it, maybe you had your own way of showing it, but... that doesn't matter." He tossed the rag aside and reached for his hand; Ivan stiffened as he grabbed it but didn't pull away. "I would like to have a second chance."

Ivan stared at their hands. "You don't owe me this," he said, voice still carefully even.

"I'm not offering anything because I feel like endowed to you," he squeezed his hand, hard. "You know me well enough to know I wouldn't do that. Now stop fighting me on this and look at me."

Ivan lifted his head.

"Thank you, Ivan," he said, staring into his eyes - dark, yes, but warm, comforting and familiar - "for caring about me, even when I couldn't see it."

Ivan opened his mouth, closed it. He squeezed his hand back. If Till didn't know better, he would even say he was blushing a little.

Maybe he would always have a bit of regret for not really seeing Ivan earlier. Maybe Ivan would apologize many more times for kissing him without permission. Maybe he would try to apologize for hurting Till, even if he didn't. Not really. All the pain he had felt - the real pain - was cured the moment he had known he would be okay. Maybe they would still struggle a lot, have bad and good days, but maybe that was okay.

#alnst #ivantill #alien stage #ivantill fic #alnst till #alnst ivan #alnst mizi #mywriting #hope u enjoy anon!#ivantill requests/prompts are open to all btw #they rly help motivate me soooo

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thexmistress · 1 day

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The Dilemma

Sukuna x Reader

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮Warnings:: Angst of course, slight mention of sex, manipulation, toxic relationship, spineless reader, etc etc :p 🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

That feeling you get when you try your hardest to reach out but your efforts go in vain. That feeling you get that rises up from the bottom of your stomach….. traveling up your chest… then to your heart where it festers…. The pain is so unbearable but for some reason you find comfort in it…. It gives you reassurance that you still have some fight in you… still have hope that you can keep the remnants of your relationship from deteriorating. You started off strong at first, you truly did, but now it just feels like you’re in the middle of ocean trying to keep afloat on a wooden plank. You felt useless and overwhelmed.

Looking down at your phone you see that all 6 of your messages were read by Sukuna earlier this morning. Your last message being a ‘Good Morning ❤️’ accompanied by a ‘Read 7:34am’. You knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. You should’ve known this was coming and prevented it but you kept opening your mouth and kept fucking things up. Chuckling to yourself as you put your phone down and continued to paint on your canvas but that feeling again was starting to creep up to your chest, and before you knew it, your eyes began to water while you struggle to keep your hand straight. Who knew drawing a line could be so hard? You try to focus on the painting but your mind keeps going back to the last conversation you guys had 2 days ago.

🝮🝮🝮🝮

“I just think it’s weird how she’s always calling you….. like I understand you guys are friends but really baby? It’s literally 12am… I think that’s a bit much…” you peeped at the clock on the nightstand and noted the time was actually ‘12:40am’. Your voice that once held passion and certainty came out timid, scared that if you said something wrong it would upset him, but even then your efforts go in vain as you see your lover roll his eyes at you and sigh heavily as he began to rub his face with hands exasperatedly.

It’s that feeling again. You feel it bubbling in your stomach as you instantly regret what you just said but it was already too late the moment he opened his mouth and began to invalidate how you feel like usual. It was always the usual to you so much to the point where you started to second guess your own feelings. Your gaze that was on the floor flickered back up to him catching a quick glance at his eyes but the moment you seen the annoyance that flooded his eyes you quickly look away not being able to handle the way it made that feeling in your stomach skyrocket to your chest. “Are you really starting this bullshit again? Really Y/N?”

His questioning lingered in the air for a few seconds until he felt even more annoyed by your silence. “Well you brought it up right? Why you not saying anything? Look at me when I’m talking to you like a normal fucking adult!” The tone of his voice made you snap your eyes up, holding back tears but the stinging feeling it was causing in your eyes wasn’t helping. “Why are you crying? Why-“, stopping mid sentence he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and sighed, “Listen. I’m not going to explain this again. Mei is just a friend. I don’t see you making this a big deal when Yuji or one of the bros call me around this time. Mei is a bro. A. Friend.”

🝮🝮🝮🝮

That’s right. Just a friend. Okay maybe you are toxic….. you make a mental note to not bring that up again but you’re starting to feel it. Starting to feel tired of everything. The no text backs unless he feels like it, how he’s so quiet on the phone and you’re always carrying the conversation, the ‘parallel play’ that you’ve become accustomed to and the fact you didn’t even know it was a thing until you were on Reddit asking strangers were you wrong for wanting to spend time with your boyfriend alone instead of always sharing him with his bros. You will always remember that day but only because of how much his words shattered you.

🝮🝮🝮🝮

“Bro what the fuck! Kill him!” Sukuna was yelling at his monitor fully engaged in the game with his headset on both ears but the volume was still loud that you can hear the giggles of his friends through them. It was the typical people in the PlayStation party; Satoru, Yuji, Suguru, and Utahime. You peeked at him but returned your attention back to your kdrama you were watching on your phone (had to get romance from somewhere right?). You couldn’t help but to start to feel annoyed and a bit angry at the fact that you were supposed to be over his house to spend time with him since he was off from work today. You usually wouldn’t mind this but lately that’s all you guys have been doing and it’s starting to bother you. Come over his house, sit on his bed while he plays the game then fuck.. How Romantic.

Before you went home you spoke about how you felt and how it feels like you were getting the bare minimum since you were the main one who would suggest hanging out or making plans, the main one calling first, the main one trying to make conversation because if you don’t speak he’s more than likely not going to start a conversation…. It’s like you’re just here. You were nervous and felt like you just committed blasphemy for even letting that slip out your lips and apparently he thought the same to because he gave you a look as if you just stabbed him in the chest and you can’t really remember all the things he said but what will forever stick to you was when he said,

“why are you measuring my love with ‘effort’? If you love me and I do give you the bare minimum that should be enough.”

🝮🝮🝮🝮

You didn’t even noticed you stopped painting until you started to sniff realizing that you were crying. You put down your paintbrush and wiped your tears and nose as you picked up your phone to see no notifications from Sukuna as expected but you couldn’t help but to feel a little hope that he would text you. It’s been 2 days since you’ve heard from him and you’re trying really hard not to come off as clingy so you’ve been sticking to texting him and not holding it against him because like he always says he’s a bad texter.

You go on instagram to see that he posted yet another story and you can’t help but to start another turmoil within yourself…..

‘Am I truly asking for too much?’

‘Am I too invested?’

‘Is it too much to ask for a clingy, emotional available boyfriend?’

You sighed as took a picture of the almost finished portrait of Sukuna and posted it on your instagram story before sending it him with a text that follows ‘Almost done! 😊’. You were about to put your phone down until you felt a vibration causing you to look back down at the screen to see him reply ‘❤️’. Suddenly you felt lighter and that nagging feeling went away causing you to feel nothing but relief.

See, he still loves me.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna angst #angst #fanfic #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #jjk sukuna #sukuna #oneshot #toxic relationship #toxic love #yuji itadori #gojo satoru

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multifandomfanficss · 1 day

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A Pretty Damn Good Solution

Egon Spengler x Reader

Prompt: When Egon finds out you’ve been having nightmares all week, he decides to find a way to help you by conducting a sleep study.

Warnings: Nightmares, panic attacks, sleep deprivation, and insomnia.

A/N: This is GN!Reader with no pronouns specified. The Egon brainrot is so real so please enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent fic I wrote to the cope with my work stress induced nightmares. Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

You woke up breathing heavy, in a cold sweat. You hear quick, clumsy footsteps running through the hallway of the firehouse. At first you’re confused. You’re still out of it and you’re scared. Suddenly Egon is busting through your doorway. His glasses are crooked, his pj shirt is buttoned incorrectly, the buttons not matching the holes. He has a proton pack slung over his back. He must have been in a hurry to get to you.

“Are you okay?! I heard you scream.” He looks at you with confusion. “I thought one of the ghosts had breached the containment unit.”

“I’m sorry. I just had a nightmare.” You apologize, still trying to collect yourself. You’re shaking like a leaf.

“Oh.” He looks at you sadly, taking off his proton pack. He sits on the bed, straightening out his glasses. The bed dips, shifting you towards him.

“I apologize for my appearance and demeanor. I was under the impression you were in danger.” He looks down at his shirt, fixing his buttons.

“I’m sorry I worried you.” You say, sheepishly.

“No, don’t be.” He draws out the o on the no, speaking softly, inflecting his tone upwards to try to bring you comfort. He gives you a soft smile, to match his tone.

You sit in silence for a few minutes. Egon isn’t quite sure what to say, but you don’t mind. Despite his awkwardness, he was still deeply comforting.

“I forgot to ask. Are you okay?” He breaks the silence.

“Not really. I’ve been having nightmares all week.” You begin to fidget with a string on your blanket.

“(Y/N), why didn’t you say something?” He asks.

“I didn’t wanna bother anyone.” You shrug your shoulders.

“You’re living in a building with several scientists who care about your well being. I assure you that you wouldn’t be bothering us. We could have helped you. You should have at the very least spoken to Peter. His concentration is psychology.” Egon tried not to lecture you, but he was confused as to why you were suffering alone instead of asking for help. He didn’t like to see you in pain.

“I guess I thought I should be able to deal with it on my own.” You avoid eye contact. Egon finally puts the pieces together. It wasn’t always easy for him to read social que’s, but he could read his friends easily enough.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Everyone has nightmares. They could be caused by a number of reasons. Typically mine are caused by stress, but I’ve since figured out how to get a handle on them through scientific means. Where they used to be constant, they’re now more rare for me.” He sympathizes.

“I didn’t know you had nightmares like that. I’m sorry.” You respond.

“They’re handled.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “I believe it would be beneficial for me to conduct a sleep study on you starting tomorrow night, with your consent of course.”

“Do you really think it’ll help?” You look at him, desperate for an answer to your problem.

“Yes. I’ll have everything ready tomorrow night, but do you need anything before I go?” He asks.

“Can I please have a hug?” You request. Usually you’d be embarrassed, but right now you didn’t care. Egon had been the greatest comfort you’d had in the last several nights.

“Of course.” He smiles, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks. The hug is awkward at first, but you both relax into it. He’s warm and his pajama shirt is soft. While Egon’s presence is always calming, his steady breathing and heartbeat do wonders to bring you back to a more relaxed state. He begins to rub your back. “We’ll get to the bottom of this and just remember you’re not alone.”

————————————————————————

The next night you’d shown up to Egon’s lab as requested. You’re surprised to see he’s set up a cot with your favorite blankets and pillows. He was nothing if not observant.

“I gathered some things from your room in an effort to make you more comfortable.” He speaks, walking around the room, pressing buttons and moving things around.

“Thank you.” You smile. You sit down on the bed and Egon begins to fit wires to your forhead.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to your chest.

“Um yes- yeah uh that’s okay.” You blush. Egon moves your shirt over and attaches wires over your heart. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

“Of course. It’s no problem, really. Do you need anything before you go to sleep? Can I get you a glass of water?” He asks.

“No, but can you explain how it’s gonna work again?” You lay down, attempting to get comfortable.

“While you’re asleep I should be able to see any changes in heart rate, breathing patterns, or brainwave activity. I can collect all the data I need and all you have to do is sleep.” He explains.

“Seems simple enough.” You give him a smile, despite your nerves.

Egon leaves the observation area and the lights dim. You close your eyes and fall asleep.

About 2 hours into the study Egon starts to notice a rapid elevation in heart rate and your breathing becomes heavier and inconsistent. He scribbled down notes, watching your brainwave patterns until you shoot up gasping. You start to pull at the wires attached to you, not remembering why they’re there. Egon enters the room with his journal and pen in hand. He approaches your bed.

“You’re okay. You’re in my lab, remember? I have to say that was quite interesting. How long did it feel like you were stuck in that nightmare?” He asks.

“Uh I- I don’t know, like hours?” You debate, trying to catch your breath.

“You were asleep for about 2 hours, but you only entered REM state about 15 minutes ago, which is when you started dreaming.” He takes down more notes.

“Only 15 minutes?” You ask, your voice and body shakey. Egon pulls a chair up to sit next to you. He lays his journal on your bed and takes your hand in his. He begins to feel your pulse. You instantly start to calm by his touch. He’s observant of this. He decides to keep holding your hand even after he’s done checking your pulse in an effort to keep you calm. He writes with one hand and holds your hand with the other.

“Can you tell me a bit about the dream?” He asks.

“I was alone in the firehouse and the containment unit broke and I was being chased by a demon. I woke myself up before it caught me.” He gives you a look. On one hand he feels bad that you were so scared, but on the other hand he’s intrigued.

“How did you wake yourself up?” He asks.

“I have like this thing I do if I need to escape a dream. I feel like I’m pushing and pulling and clawing my way out of reality, like I’m trying to swim through molasses until I wake up.” You tell him.

“That’s amazing. From my end your adrenaline spiked enormously. I didn’t realize you were doing that on purpose.” He scribbles down some more notes.

“Yeah. I guess that’s a thing I do.” You say awkwardly. “Did you get anything useful?” You ask.

“Yes, but I’ll have to run more tests throughout the week.” He closes his journal, turning to you. He realizes he’s still holding your hand. He doesn’t let go. He was so excited by the scientific aspects of the experiment he forgot why he was doing this in the first place. “We’re going to figure this out, but until then I’m here.” He smiles at you, giving you a look of sympathy.

————————————————————————

The next two nights went similarly to the first one. You would have nightmare and Egon would remind you everything was okay before sitting down next to you to take notes as you recounted the dream. Your dreams were often about being chased or not being able to save someone. You would usually use your emergency escape out of your dreams. Talking about your dreams helped. It gave you an outlet and it aided Egon’s studies. The two of you had fallen into a routine and it was starting to help.

Tonight was different. Egon watched as your heart rate spiked and your breathing patterns began to change. Your brain activity was off the charts. He knew you’d be up soon. He watched as you tried and failed to pull the emergency break. You begin to thrash in bed. He wonders why you haven’t woken up. He enters the room just in time for you to shoot up screaming and covered in sweat. You begin to hyperventilate, crying out. “Egon!” You cry for him. Tears start to stream down your face. He runs to your bed.

“It was just a dream. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m here. Everything is okay, (Y/N).” Egon tries to keep his voice calm, but he speaks with urgency. He places his hands on your shoulders, trying to ground you. You can’t get your breathing under control.

“I- I couldn’t get out! I couldn’t get out! I was stuck and I couldn’t get out!” You’re speaking a mile a minute.

“(Y/N), look at me. You’re awake now. You’re safe. I won’t let anything hurt you. I need you to try to breathe with me. (Y/N), what’s three things that you can see?” He asks, trying to bring your focus back to reality.

“I can’t” You sob, unable to focus.

“Yes, you can. What’s three things you can see?” He repeats.

“I see your journal. It’s in the chair.” You try.

“Good that’s two things.” He smiles.

“Your pen is on the floor.” You continue.

“I dropped it when I rushed in to check on you. What’s two things you can hear?” He asks.

“The clock is ticking really loudly and- and I can hear… the heater is on.” You tell him, listening closely.

“Good. What’s one thing you can touch?” He asks.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, hesitantly.

“Yes, thank you for asking.” He smiles. You grab his hand, beginning to trace all the lines and wrinkles on it. You learn every detail of his fingerprints. Tracing the indents and following the patterns comforts you.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” He asks.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m just having one of those moments where it’s hard to tell what’s real and what‘s fake. I woke up from a nightmare, but it was just another nightmare. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a dream inside of a dream before. I thought that was just in movies.” You keep tracing his hand.

“No, it’s real unfortunately, but so am I and so are you. This is real.” He gestures between you. Part of himself means that the two of you are real and your interaction is real, but another part of him meant something different. The care you have for each other is real too, very real.

“I hate that I’m still tired. I don’t wanna go back to sleep, but I know I have to.” You sigh.

“Would it make you feel better if I stayed in here with you?” He asks. While he’d usually be too awkward to ask this, his solution is based in science. All of his research points to his presence being a comfort. This gave him more confidence.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” You hope you’re not being an inconvenience.

“If I minded I wouldn’t have offered. I want you to feel like you’re not alone.” He gives your hand a squeeze.

“I think that would help me a lot actually.” You start to shift, laying back down in bed. Egon gets up to turn the light back off, kicking off his shoes and lab coat before getting back into bed with you.

“I figured it might.” He smiles. He always loved when his scientific theories were proven right, especially one that benefited both of you so much. It brought both of you comfort to be in each other’s arms. Egon’s presence was enough for you to sleep soundly for the rest of the night and he was happy to know that you felt safe and calm. Even if it was only a temporary solution to your problems, it was still a pretty damn good solution.

“Goodnight, Egon.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

#egon spengler oneshot #egon spengler fanfiction #egon spengler imagines #egon spengler fanfic #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #harold ramis #Harold Ramis fanfiction #Harold Ramis fanfic #ghostbusters #ghostbusters oneshot #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters fanfic #ghostbusters fanfiction

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daydreamalley · 1 day

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A Ramble about Phase 19 of the Fifteen Manga Ft. Storm Bringer spoilers

Just absolutely cannot get over the 15 manga. I love the light novel so much, but this manga adaptation is so ridiculously amazing. Dazai and Chuuya’s proximity/touching has been amazing of course. I adore the way Hoshikawa draws Dazai and Chuuya as well (my baby boys, especially Chuuya). But these last two chapters with Rimbaud and Verlaine. Like, fuck. The whole “At least, one of them felt that way,” part just hits so much harder in the manga for me, with the art and page placement. And this whole most recent chapter. Like firstly, you don’t have to end every chapter with like Chuuya getting stabbed okay, help me out here.

Comparing the last page of phase 18 with Verlaine and the first page of phase 19 with Chuuya makes it so obvious that Rimbaud is seeing the similarities between them with just that parallel, which is confirmed later with Rimbaud quite literally seeing Verlaine standing behind Chuuya.

Not to mention in phase 18 the “That’s right Paul, I remember you,” in conjunction with him seeing Verlaine in Chuuya.

Then that flashback with Verlaine carrying Chuuya and Chuuya’s just so small I could cry.

Like, I knew he was small, but he's just so young, I can't. People were experimenting on him. Like, how??

The way Rimbaud wants to ask Chuuya something and Chuuya crouches down to him. Which leads to Rimbaud putting a hand around Chuuya as he tells him to live. How close and personal they are when Rimbaud says all of this just make it feel so much more impactful for Chuuya. Kinda love too that Chuuya isn't just standing over Rimbaud. He's making it obvious he's open to listening.

Rimbaud says a lot of shitty things to Chuuya up to this point, even complaining that he has to kill a kid while only referring to Dazai, completely not acknowledging Chuuya as anything more than Arahabaki. But once he fully remembers what happened with Verlaine, I feel like that’s when Rimbaud remembers what he truly believed about Verlaine and his humanity and how that extends to Chuuya’s humanity. Because Rimbaud’s whole final speech is most definitely things he’d also thought of or told Verlaine before (as I think is confirmed in SB). I think those are Rimbaud’s true thoughts and beliefs on the matter, it just took that long for him to remember the full story and how he felt about it all. Rimbaud saw Verlaine’s struggles with humanity, and now he also remembers why Verlaine betrayed him. And so he tells Chuuya to live, just as Verlaine wanted him to back then, live without the burden of worrying about your humanity or where you came from, because “you are you.” It doesn’t matter if Chuuya (and Verlaine) “are but a pattern etched on the surface of raw power.” In Rimbaud’s mind, and honestly where we eventually end up at the end of SB, is that it really doesn’t matter what your origins are, whether someone is an artificial personality (aka pattern) etched onto raw power, because really everything is some version of a pattern upon the world. And in a word with abilities, a lot of people are a pattern connected to a power. Just as in SB Chuuya decides that even though Adam isn’t human and he knows it, it doesn’t take away from Adam’s actions, his sacrifices, or his dreams. Same goes for Chuuya and Verlaine. Their origins don't affect how human they truly are. Their humanity is significant no matter what. It just took a bit more convincing for Chuuya to get there, a little more than what Rimbaud could offer on his (almost) deathbed.

Anyway, Chuuya holding Rimbaud’s hand as he dies just does things to me. Like, the book described that “Both Chuuya and Dazai quietly listened as if there was something in what Randou (Rimbaud) was saying that they couldn’t allow themselves to miss… Some things, however, would not return to normal: the body of a man who no longer felt the cold, and the hearts of two boys who stood rooted to the spot, staring at him. A gust of wind peered through their souls as it passed them by.”

This page just so well depicts that last line. It truly feels these boys have heard something so monumental, that they won’t ever forget. Standing in the aftermath of their first fight together, hearing these words about humanity that both mean so much to both of them. Dazai’s expressions really convey this to me in the manga, and convey it just so beautifully. And Chuuya being so close to Rimbaud when he speak those words just makes it feel like those words truly are so monumental for him. And also this means that Chuuya fought to kill a man, that to be entirely fair and clear was trying to kill him first, and then held to his hand as he dies, and there’s just something about this added detail that’s so significant to me in portraying the weight of it on Chuuya. Chuuya's connection to Rimbaud is a complicated but important one. But really these words are important for both boys, because let’s not forget that Dazai also struggles with his humanity. Even if he doesn’t have a physical reason to doubt his humanity, like Chuuya, there are many other reasons that he does doubt it. So hearing that all people and all of humanity are really just patterns within the physical world, human or not that’s true of everyone and everything, and that’s important for Dazai to hear too. I think both boys think back to Rimbaud’s final speech quite a bit, if I’m being honest or did for a while.

I am NOT getting over the detail that someone (Chuuya??) put Rimbaud’s scarf on his grave. I just… it does something to me and I love that detail so much. And cutting back to that “You are you” line while Chuuya’s talking to the grave is just so perfect in my opinion, and again just shows the significance of it so, so well. It’s like, he's talking to Rimbaud, complaining about his actions really, and then it cuts to that “you are you” and it just shows almost the contrast I guess between Chuuya feeling unrest at not finding stuff about his past that Rimbaud could’ve given him, but maybe wouldn’t have anyway, and Rimbaud’s statement that those things don’t matter because Chuuya is who he is beyond all that. Also the little dandelion blowing into the wind, to me also signifying a wish being spread.

Anyway, entirely unnecessary to end the chapter with a big knife in Chuuya’s back, thanks. Especially after Chuuya mentions how he’s still exhausted from everything. Like let’s just, stop, please.

He's just a boy, leave him alone for the sake of all things good.

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justivik · 2 days

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CARE FOR A DANCE...?

; italian boyfriend! yandere x fem! reader

english isn't my first language

You finished your work day very tired, you had been moving all over the place and your feet hurt. Hair was a mess and you only had a moment to fix it but the whole work nightmare was over and you were close to get home where your boyfriend was waiting for you with dinner ready. He was very good at cooking and a typical Italian meal that was Gnocchi di Patate, you loved the taste and the dedication Matthew put into its preparation.

Thinking about the delicious dinner that awaited you, you arrive at your front door and it doesn't take long for the smell of potatoes to permeate your nostrils.

“Hi, honey, I'm here”

In the distance you heard how Matt greeted you with music in the background and the sound of the wooden board making contact with the kitchen knife. You went downstairs to get to the room you share with him so you could change your shoes for more comfortable ones and more comfortable clothes, you wanted to go to bed to sleep but your boyfriend was waiting for some kisses of welcome and you quickly went downstairs to enter the kitchen that had an incredible smell.

You looked at his intense eyes and shiny hair, his nose was beautiful in profile and it was a part of his face that you adored madly. His head turned to your side and a smile appeared on his face.

“Amore mio, how was work?” He quickly stopped what he was doing to wash his hands and went in your direction to hug and kiss you.

“Awful, Kate leave me all her work to go to a new store that opened near work.”

“I hate how she take advantage of you, doll. You should quit your job. I can take good care of you.” He said.

Your boyfriend's proposal was not strange to you, you know very well what kind of man he is but you want to show him that you can stand on your own and that not everything you ask for or touch has to be bought for you.

“It's okay, honey. I don't want to think about her anymore, I just want to eat your delicious food..”

You touched his cheeks and let go of his grip to mix some more of the pasta that was almost ready.

“It's almost ready” Matt replied and then followed interrupted by a familiar tune. The song that Matt always told you could be a short answer to the meaning of the great love he feels for you...

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

Matt turns off the stove and looks at you with the cutest smile he's ever shown you. Every time he smiles that cute, innocent smile, he goes back to being that 16-year-old boy you met at summer camp.

“Our song, isn't it?”

You walked up to him, placed your hands together behind the back of his neck and rested your arms on his shoulders. His hands ran along your hips drawing you closer to him, his eyes shining like a thousand stars. Matt's lips hummed the rhythm of the song.

“I only have eyes” he stretched out the last two words “for youuuuu...” he stretched out the u, making a cute expression.

While you two dance to the romantic ballad like teenagers in love, each other's lips met. It was a kiss of intensity, possession and love. You pulled away gently to quietly watch his expression, he looked at you in the sweetest way and you smiled as you brushed his hair.

“Do you want to eat now, or are we still dancing and adoring each other's presence?”

You turned up the volume on the radio and Matt laughed.

request !!

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hyperfixated-maybe · 3 days

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Not what I usually post, but I need people to see this insanely intimate moment I had with two complete strangers at the airport the other day. This was typed out in my notes app on the bus ride from the airport so I’d get every fresh little detail from my memory.

“Sitting on a Lufthansa flight, eight hours from Frankfurt to Boston. We’re a half hour ahead of time, sitting on the runway awaiting an open gate. I hear a clang, and under my seat rolls a metal water bottle. I reach under and pass it back to the kid who dropped it. They wear a soft jean jacket with a shirt underneath reading something along the lines of “I’m really a moth and this is my human costume”.

“Here you go, bud.” I say.

They thank me.

Five, ten minutes later and everybody is getting up to be deplaned. I hear behind me the same kid talking to their mom. “There’s a type of jellyfish that can live forever. If something doesn’t eat it. They go back to an earlier stage of their life…”

I turn back and pull lobsters into the conversation. They tell me they went to an away science camp where they learned about marine biology.

“I’m Moth” they draw out the “th” sound.

I repeat it back: “Moth?? That’s such a cool name dude!”

The mom jumps in. “They named themself that!”

“What’s your name?” Moth asks me.

“Sam. My pronouns are he/him, what are yours?”

“They/them!”

“That’s so cool! I’m trans too!”

The mom again: “They have older siblings, so they’ve had a lot more time to think about these things than most other nine year olds.”

There’s a pause in the conversation here, and I can feel my emotions bending. “You know you’re the luckiest kid ever, right?”

“I am?”

“Mhm..” I’ve started to get shakey now. I look away and bring my arm to my face, trying to control my emotions. The mom looks at me, and waits a moment before saying, “y’know, I give out mom hugs to anyone who needs it.” She opens her arms and I lean into the embrace.

When it’s over I find myself saying “You’re the coolest person I know. I hope you have a great life!” to Moth as I leave. I wave behind me as I get off the plane.

“Me too!”

I wait on the edge of the group as the rest of the cadets trickle off of the plane and condense beside me. I see Moth and their mom walk by, and I catch the mom’s eye. We smile at each other. Moth doesn’t see me.

They came back. To find me. And Moth asks for a hug. (Or, more accurately, if they can hug 𝘮𝘦.)

“Of course!” I bend down. We’re at an awkward height, and I shift to see if I should kneel or remain. By the end I’m kneeling.

We hug more times than I remember. Eight, nine, ten times? I don’t rightfully know. Each hug they get more emotional, and I see tears well up in their brown eyes.

The mother says “sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know they’d start crying like this.” I tell her it’s fine, it’s okay.

Their straight, brown, a bit longer than shoulder length hair is messed up, and the mom is behind them, smoothing it behind their ear. So am I.

“It’s gonna be okay.” The mom says to them.

I tell them that they’re the coolest person I know. We hug, and each time we pull away, we hold each other’s arms, or grasp each others hands.

“Sorry about this. With the jet lag and stuff they start acting like a drunk person!”

Moth laughs through their tears, and I laugh with them.

“Sam’s gotta go with his group now,” the mother says. So I do.

The last time I saw Moth was about a half hour after our first interaction on the plane. I’m walking with my group to get my passport stamped. Moth is alone now, waiting for their mom outside a bathroom. I hug them one last time as I walk by, and file down through the seatbelt barrier maze.

I wave, and Moth smiles back.

And that’s it. That’s my whole story. As much as they’ll ever know of it, at least.”

#how do i even tag this #transgender #trans #nonbinary #transmasc #idk man #i cried writing this #and reading it through before posting #I’ve told about three people up till now #writing #(?) i guess #I’m a mess dude

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hrokkall · 1 year

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Leshy for the ask game?

HELL YEAH I got requests for all four Scrybes let’s go.

Favorite thing about them: I absolutely love his character as a whole. He’s a villain (and remains that way for most—if not all—of the game) but he’s still so likable just because everyone can see his genuine passion for the game he’s created. Everything he did, everything he created, every puzzle box and squeaking floorboard and hidden secret was all for the player. Inscryption the game loves the player so much—it loves them enough to trawl through the blight it’s built upon just to have even the slightest chance of looking them in the eyes and Leshy is such a good representation of that theme.

Least favorite thing about them: Again not going to say anything related to torturing the other Scrybes (even if he thought that they would eventually come around and see that it was an honor). Instead I’ll say I wish he had a full 3D model. I know it’s because he’s too damn tall but all of the other Scrybes have one (including Grimora, who is nearly the same height and has to clip through the floor to fit in that scene) but I would love to actually know what his legs look like instead of speculating based on the unclear 2D sprite. Granted I’d probably draw him with hooves anyway because it’s fun but still I’d love if he had a full body that I could import into blender to just rotate around for fun.

Favorite line: I’m not going to pick any bits from the finale because every single one of those lines hit hard, instead I’ll pick this segment

brOTP: I already talked about Leshy and Kaycee on the Kaycee post and I’m going to try and not repeat myself too much here. So instead I’ll say I like the relationship Leshy has with his subordinates just because it’s so different from the other Scrybes’ interactions with their own underlings. Magnificus and P03’s underlings both revere their Scrybe above all else, Grimora’s all live under the same roof and are therefore likely pretty close with her, but Leshy? All of his woodsmen seem like they were just… people who lived in his forest who he decided to converse with. They’re loyal to him, sure—everyone but the Woodcarver (who isn’t one of his underlings) is 100% okay with him using their visage and controlling them for the boss fights—but in a very different way. Loyal in a way of “I live in the forest with you and the forest decided to extend a hand to me in return” rather than loyal in a “put me in the torture chamber, boss!” way. I don’t know it’s just like they’re casual friends with any reverence (or lack thereof, in the Woodcarver’s case) formed organically rather than vehemently feeling like they owe anything, intentionally or not.

OTP: Trying not to repeat myself too much so I WON’T put all four Scrybes as the world’s worst polycule here. I’m pretty sure everyone here already knows that’s my #1 favorite Inscryption ship (and probably the only one tbh because I’m not really into shipping). Instead I’ll talk about Leshy and the other three Scrybes individually (keeping it short because otherwise, like usual, we’d be here a while)

Leshy x Grimora: Classic life and death motif combo. You can’t really go wrong here. Plus, if you go by sheer quantity (and quality imo) in act 1, Insect cards are by far the most abundant, implying they may be Leshy’s favorites (plus the insect that crawls across the table that Leshy occasionally stops to observe). So making Grimora into an insect card seems to show a certain level of fondness—or respect, at very least. We already know from canon that a combined blood/bones system works very well, as do beast and death cards in act 2. Plus the mental image of Grimora bringing back animals that Leshy had gotten particularly attached to by lovingly carving their epitaphs and watching as the now-skeletal rat excitedly greets his friend again is cute.

Leshy x Magnificus: This one is a little bit funny to me just because they have no hybrid cards together and Leshy goes out of his way to gouge Magnificus’s eye out. So needless to say the divorce was messy. But in a pre-old_data sense, their dynamic would probably center around their mutual love of creation. Though their own preferences clash, they’re both huge fans of having a single unified aesthetic. They don’t want each other’s card systems near the other, but the storycrafting would be fantastic. Similarly, I don’t think a magic/blood campaign would work very well without a ton of shoehorning (it would have to be something similar to the red hart wherein the # of sacrifices made that turn power up a ruby mox card) but the visuals would be nice.

Leshy x P03: This one is equally funny to me because they’re opposites in every way possible and yet they really have a lot more in common than either of them would appreciate in canon proper. I’m personally a fan of the “overgrown technology” type aesthetic (see: co-op) so from that level I can appreciate it, but also the level of hilarity that these two would bring is incredible. Learning about the semi-canonical divorce between the robot and the forest deity was a punch in the face, but the semi-canonical marriage that it implies? The two of them going in dates in either the middle of the woods (wherein P03 complains the whole time until it spots a bird mimicking the whirring of its fans) or at the factory (wherein Leshy spends the whole time asking if they can go down to the shore because he’d love to capture that thing he swore he saw poke its head out above the waves). It would be a disaster and yet the fact that they made it work speaks volumes. I’ve already talked about a blood-energy system with co-op so I’ll skip over that part but yeah I like these two.

So anyway the four of them together are a lethal combo needless to say. It doesn’t work and yet it does and then the moment it starts to work they realize they can play god and then start fistfighting each other about it. So that’s fun.

nOTP: Again, not a fan of Leshy and Kaycee in a romantic context.

Random headcanon: I didn’t get to show it in my last drawing of him (partially because it got covered up with fur) but he has tarsal spurs on the back of his leg like an insect would. What these are used for? Good question… Seeing as in insects they’re usually on the forelegs for digging or cleaning, they’re probably just vestigial on Leshy.

Unpopular opinion: Act 1 isn’t my favorite. It’s good, for sure, but I hate when people reduce Inscryption to just act 1 and then ignore the rest of the game. Maybe that’s just because I’ve been drawing art for this game and picking apart the lore for around a year now but the other acts deserve more of a spotlight too.

Song I associate with them: Can I put Lord Huron’s entire Strange Trails album here? I won’t, I’ll narrow it down to Meet Me in the Woods (though you should listen to the whole album if you want a whole album of Leshy songs. Just saying). Other than that, Dear Dictator by Saint Motel and Solar Waltz by Cosmo Sheldrake are both pretty good options.

As a bonus, I’ll put Time in a Bottle by Jim Croce—the song he references in the Finale as he plays his last game.

Favorite picture of them: It only appears for a couple of seconds but I really like his “Deathcard”

#Re: Inbox #Re: Anon #Ask meme #OKAY this is the last one back to drawing now #Oh also #Cw animal death #Just in case

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