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junghelioseok · 3 years

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heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

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mrpenguinpants · 3 years

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Genshin: Roommate HCs [V1]

To be honest, I just wanted to ramble some more and let my brainworms take over. This is sorta late but Happy Valentine’s everyone! I was gonna post this earlier but this honestly took me a long time to write so I moved it to today.

Once again, this is 90% crack 10% content. Seriously, as much as I love writing this non-serious fics. Why do you people like this?

—

Based off my ramblings with Keqing anon: Link

Genshin: Holding Hands [V1]

Genshin: When you’re cold [V1]

Genshin: University AU [V1]

Genshin: Royalty AU [V1]

[Masterlist]

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[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@youaskedfurret @diaxfeliz @wintergreen-aix @kaechu @thegayrubberducky @lovelykittycatmeow @yuunoagivesmelife @dokidokisama @rokipersonal@minakohasmanyhusbandos @strwbrry-lia @tigerpriestess @yuu-yuukurotsuki @hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @sunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover @dilucsz @dai-tsukki-desu @thicmitten @nonniechan @htnicayh @genshins1mpact

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Diluc

What? Diluc has a roommate? Did you blackmail him in living with you? Is that even possible? Did you throw yourself in front of his car because you needed someone to pay for your student loans and the easiest way was to file a lawsuit? In this economy no one would blame you. Diluc seems like such the self-isolated character that would murder his roommate in cold blood but in reality, he act’s detached from the world because he forgot how to socialize and he’s desperately trying to cover it up without choking. That or he’s trying to learn how to astral project. If he could drink away the pain he would but instead he buys 20 packs of grape Kool-Aid and injects it into his veins.

Does not and will not ever have a normal sleeping schedule. You’ll wake up to him working, come back home to him working, and will sleep to him still working. His daily dose of Vitamin D is from the brightness of his screen rather than the sun and he’s filter feeding at this point. It’s concerning. He’s going to crumble and he’s bringing the world down with him. Through the power of tax evasion. But as soon as he needs to walk out into society, he pulls movie magic and looks like perfection. It’s both physically and mentally disgusting.

He’s actually is a really nice roommate to have just so long as you give him space. Great cook and knows to clean up after himself. Though he does have crash and burn days where’s he’s completely out of commission. You could set the entire apartment on fire and he would sleep through it. The entire two weeks are dedicated to zombie eye marathons and then he’ll suddenly collapse and sleep for 46 hours straight. When he wakes up from his hibernation he’s the most groggy and nonsensical person. His life blood is coffee because you keep hiding the 5 hour energy away from him because, you know, life is enjoyable and those cancer bottles will actually kill him.

“University sucks our money out of our bodies faster than our will to live.”

Beidou [Happy Birthday Queen 💕]

Despite her appearance, she’s actually really strong and it scares the piss out of you when you’re doing something or scrolling through your phone mindlessly and you suddenly get your spine re-arranged when she slaps you on the back to ask what you’re doing. Likewise, when she hoists you up and throws you over her shoulder so you come with her on her 3am convivence store raids for alcohol. It’s either you change now or else we’re walking out of the apartment in your t-shirt and no pants self. She can and will carry you under her arm that way. It’s both incredibly attractive and horrifying at the same time.

She’s really friendly and a great talker if you’re alright with her “I must hold you in my arms, fresh prince of bel air style”. It doesn’t matter if you’re taller than her, she’s doing it. She does however, get in a bit of trouble from her rowdiness and you often get noise complaints but Beidou just passes them off to Ningguang and everything is fixed. She has ovaries of steel when neighbors rather confront her personally and she’s ready to 1v1 in the parking lot. You’re trying to desperately hold onto her shirt to stop her from pile driving your neighbors for the third time this week but she’s too strong.

She’s constant party until we die attitude and suffers the hangover in the morning. It’s actually really funny to catch her in her hangover moods because whatever filter Beidou had, which is none, is gone. She really takes “cursing like a sailor” or the next level and the amount of creativity she comes up with is actually impressive. She can be a bit messy but she’s really likeable and always down to go anywhere with you as long as you’ll do the same. It’s a very ride together, we die together situation. You’re my best friend, you’re dying with me. I’ll see you in hell.

“Imma T pose over my dad and then crash the car into the parking garage.”

Kaeya

Kaeya on the surface seems like such a chill roommate. And he is for the most part. But he’s such an ass. Your things are his things, no questions asked. If you just bought a really nice sweater or you had leftover food, that’s his now. He’s innocent until proven guilty even if he’s literally holding your lunch. The pure amount of bullshit he can spit out to convince you that no, he did not pull the fire alarm because he wanted an excuse for not going to work, puts him on Shakespeare level. He’s also very pretty, way too pretty, sir can you share some of your genes?

But aside from that, he’s actually super dependable. You forgot something at home? Sure, he has nothing better to do so he can bring them for you. We’re missing eggs? No problem, he’s just by the store. You’re 95% sure that he just wants to be cheeky and make you thank him for 20 minutes before he actually hands you what you asked for. It’s better for you if you never tell him anything you’re afraid of because Kaeya has no social cues, or more like he throws them out the window, and he’s probably a psychopath.

He’s incredibly private of his room and things despite his attitude towards yours. You’re convinced he either has a secret lab or that’s where he’s storing the bodies. I was the good guy but due to unfortunate circumstances, I need to stab a bitch. But he’s a really good serious talker for those 3am, because everything happens at 3am, talks about life and the meaning of the universe. It absolutely wrecks your sleep schedule but some of the things you talk about are the most crackhead things like what’s the lowest amount of money someone would have to pay you to walk outside without clothes? It’s a legitimate question.

“Never before have I been so offended with something I 100% agree with.”

Jean

Okay, what world did you save in a past life to live with his absolutely wonderful woman? Mother Teresa take a load off, take a seat. You have nothing to worry about. She’ll bring home little treats back home and it’s the most wholesome thing ever?? Is this what love and affection feels like? We’ve been starved for so long. She says it’s not a big deal and anyone would do it BUT THE MOMENT SOMEONE BUYS FOOD FOR YOU. IT’S A MAGICAL MOMENT. They are forever stuck in your will until proven otherwise. An absolute ray of sunshine that must be protected.

She does get super busy so you don’t often see each other or get to hang out as much. She’s a bit of a workaholic but a lot more easier to talk her into taking a break. She’s also a pretty decent cook but she prefers baking and jesus christ, girl can you calm down? Be still my beating heart, I’ve been smitten. Has mother hen vibes that you’re not sure if she’s your roommate or if she adopted you into her family. It’s time to start a petition for the Jean protection squad. Given the opportunity, I would aggressively hold your hand.

She’s always open to whatever you want to do. Any recommendations or things that you like she will try out at least once despite her busy schedule. She’s lowkey lonely because work consumes her so any time you want to hang out or do something together, she jumps on it like she’s feral. She get’s a bit shy to ask if she can join in on your plans because she doesn’t want to bother you or intrude no matter how many times you tell her that’s okay, she still get’s a bit iffy about it. Please save this girl before she trips. In your arms. Platonically. Just kidding haha. Unless?

“I can’t wait to see you happy and not hating everyone again haha.”

Childe

First impressions of Childe were great, until he opened his mouth and you realized how much of a two brain cell child(e) he was. He has two braincells because they constantly have to 1v1 in his brain. He’s lived with a lot of siblings so he has no social awareness or concept of privacy that you’re lucky if you come home and he’s half-dressed. It doesn’t matter if you’re 2 weeks older than him, he’s going to call you 82 years old and why your bones aren’t being fossilized at this point. He’s such a little shit, this fucker licks the yogurt lid peel.

He get’s really restless when he’s stuck under house arrest, because apparently 1v1ing in the parking lot of a Wendy’s is illegal for some reason, so he makes dying whale noises until he get’s to go outside again. But he’s actually a really wholesome guy, probably because of his younger siblings, that he’ll sometimes get you something because you seemed down and it’s such whiplash? Who is this man and where did he come from? You’re starting to have a change of heart before he tells you that he got banned from the library for accidently punching the school’s computer. How you “accidently” punch something you have no idea but Childe always comes home with some sort of injury. Maybe he’s just incredibly clumsy. For your sanity, you’re going to go with that.

He’s actually so uncultured that it’s crippling. You can’t blame him too much considering his upbringing and it’s great that he’s so interested in learning new things but...child no...It makes you want to take your spine out of your ass and rip it like a Beyblade. Watching him take chopsticks and stab his food like it’s marshmallows makes you want to fall into a blackhole and let the chair consume you.

“I, too, fantasize about beating the living shit out of people.”

---

Is this another tag yourself game cause I resonate with Diluc. I’m crying in insomnia. As much as I enjoy writing these fics I absolutely hate tagging them. I remember I used to have a tag anon but that was back when I wrote for bnha.

Valentine’s Day was fun tho. I had a drinking game with friends as we played league then ended it off with a movie night.

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 318: On Your Left

Previously on BnHA: The Hawksquad+Lurkers were all “well this sucks” and sat around a bit talking about how maybe they should actually come up with a new plan that is actually good, but then in the end they were like “nah.” Deku was all, “THERE’S SOMETHING INSIDE ME THAT PULLS BENEATH THE SURFACE!! CONSUMING, CONFUSING!! THIS LACK OF SELF CONTROL I FEAR IS NEVERENDING. IT’S HAUNTING HOW I CANT SEEM TO FIND MYSELF AGAIN. MY WALLS ARE CLOSING IN.” Just, literally that whole entire song. All Might was all “Deku you should take care of yourself, try eating a thing,” and Deku was all “BYE, ALL MIGHT,” and just LEFT. He left!!! What the fuck!!!

Today on BnHA: Endeavor is all, “maybe if Deku didn’t listen to All Might he’ll listen to me instead.” Deku is all, “[doesn’t listen to Endeavor]” because, well, yeah. The Vestiges are all, “surprisingly, even we are a little concerned -- maybe you should get some rest, kid.” Deku is all, “((Ò ‸ Ó)).” The Vestiges are all, “holy shit.” Deku is all, “[wanders the ruined city streets terrifying the populace on account of him looking like Shelob had a baby with one of the Nazgul].” Some shriveled-up puppeteer villain asshole is all, “HORIKOSHI SAID IT’S MY TURN TO ATTACK DEKU TODAY SO I AM GOING TO SUMMON MY FRIGHTENED HELPLESS ATTACK MOB!!” Kacchan is all “WHADDYA MEAN THEY FOUND THE NERD!!! -- oh wait, that’s me, I found him. I found the nerd, you guys.” And just in time, too. I was about to owe a whole lot of people a whole lot of dollars.

so I have been super good about spoilers this week as always, but let me tell you guys, for the past 36 hours my dash filters have basically been nonstop “manga spoilers” this and “bnha 318” that, and so I’m coming in with a fair amount of hype here. your move, Horikoshi

oh, good! they got Endeavor to call Deku to try to talk him out of it. what a great and wonderful plan

“listen up kid, you haven’t slept since March and you are basically a walking biohazard right now, I’m just telling it like it is. didn’t you get shot like three times?? and there was a whole thing about how you urgently needed medical attention?? and supposedly we gave it to you, but I mean you haven’t even changed your clothes and don’t seem to have any fresh bandages or anything, so did we?? did we, really?? and also we all got blown up yesterday, so yeah.” hmm he’s making some reasonable points here you guys, but you sure do go on and on, Endeavor

oh he says foreign aid is finally on its way! I’m sure they’ll be very helpful. I mean in fairness they can hardly be worse than the home-grown heroes at this point

hey Enji, could you maybe try appealing to Deku the sixteen-year-old human boy, as opposed to Deku The World’s Last Hope? he does have value beyond his quirk. I know that’s always been an incredibly difficult concept for you to grasp, but could you maybe TRY, jesus

and also we’re worried about you as a person?? you’re just a kid and you’re pushing yourself way too hard?? you were going to say that part next, right. why the hell didn’t Hawks make this call instead

“don’t worry about me... I’m completely fine” Deku you do understand that saying it over and over again doesn’t actually make it true

and again with the rush!! all the rush rush rush!! we’re running out of time, we can’t let AFO and Tomura keep getting stronger, I have to end this now, there’s no time to rest, etc. etc. etc. just the constant pressure of this whole big countdown on top of everything else

holy shit, you KNOW it’s bad when even the Vestiges are telling him to chill

these guys are basically the walking talking embodiments of self-sacrifice; if even they’re telling him he needs to take five, then he must seriously be like half a step away from death’s door

OH SHIT LMAO

DIDN’T EVEN LET HIM FINISH HIS SENTENCE BEFORE HE SENT HIM INTO THE FUCKING SHADOW REALM WITH THAT FUCKING LOOK. HOLY FUCK. DIDN’T EVEN KNOW IT WAS POSSIBLE TO DIE TWICE. SHIT

(ETA: so I’m pretty sure this was just Danger Sense activating and so he cut them off to go do more hero stuff, but I’m gonna go ahead and stick to my original interpretation anyway lol.)

anyway so how’s everybody doing. we all good? En, you good? Banjou? Shino? I’m imagining you guys all curled up in a little ball on the floor right now lol. can’t say I blame you though, no shame

lmaoooooooooooo

“SHEESH.” sheesh indeed, lmao. “what in the FUCK was that”

see, this is why y’all need Kacchan. you need someone who’s not going to back down from him no matter what. if it’s a matter of out-stubborning Midoriya fucking Izuku, then there’s only one other person on the planet capable of that, and we all know it. don’t pretend like you don’t. I am not going to shut up about this! we’ve had our hurt so now what about SOME COMFORT, DAMMIT

“I’m afraid that he’s becoming influenced by my conscience” nah are you kidding Nana this is all 100% made-in-Japan pure original Deku right here

see, Banjou gets it. “that kid, he’s totally going on his own.” exactly. this was so inevitable it was basically scientific law

“well I for one don’t see the problem with Deku being so obsessed with saving everyone else that he pushes himself until his body and soul literally fall apart” okay, whose speech bubbles are these?? we’re about to have words

lol of course

well you always did prefer the direct route didn’t you. but even you can’t possibly think this is okay lol

dark AU!Kacchan please tell us more about your badass doomed timeline in which everything went to shit and you apparently had the same character arc that Deku is having right now except it somehow made you sexier instead of turning you into a rabid t-rex. I have so many questions

oh so now you want to help??? well -- good, actually. sorry if that sounded offended just now lol

(ETA: so at first when I got to the end of this chapter I was wondering if Katsuki B. had somehow summoned his alternate-universe counterpart through trippy OFA space telepathy lol. but in the original Japanese there’s no reference to “we”, so this appears to be a mistranslation. this line should probably read more like “if there’s something/someone out there that would be able to complement/complete the current Midoriya Izuku [it would be]…” which, oh hello, is that Horikoshi once again reaffirming that Deku and Bakugou complete each other lol. “guess what guys, the Vestiges ship it too" heck yeah. they know what’s up!)

look how admiring his boyfriends are. HORIKOSHI GIVE US THE REST OF THIS BACKSTORY ALREADY GODDAMMIT

“meanwhile somewhere in the depths of the ruined city, Deku was having a dance-off with the villains”

I like how the villains all have this “AHH WHAT THE FUCK” kind of body language to them lol. I mean if it were me, and an eldritch horror suddenly clawed its way from the shadows with its writhing glowy tentacles and pants-shitting nuclear death stare, I would probably just die on the spot. no need to stick around. only pain awaits

lol for a minute I thought this was Can’t Ya See-kun and I was like “WHAT A FASCINATING CROSSING OF PATHS” but it’s just some random girl

he seems genuinely confused lol

Deku it’s because you look like something that crawled out of a sewer drain, sweetheart

lol they just took his word for it?

so trusting. even though they’re immediately hauling ass anyway just to be safe lmao

“my appearance is frightening to others” no shit Deku it’s because you look like a fucking alien exorcism. you look like a Lich that got caught up in an oil spill my dude

NO NOT THE CHOSEN ONE ANGST AGAIN

I RAN OUT OF ESSAY JUICE FOR THIS ALREADY HORIKOSHI!! I’VE BEEN TALKING ABOUT IT FOR MONTHS NOW WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG!! BUT ANYWAYS, GOOD!! I MEAN, BAD, THOUGH, OBVIOUSLY. BUT YES

“ENJOY THIS MONTAGE OF DEKU BATTLING A RANDOM KAIJU AND WANDERING THE WOODS LIKE A DERANGED GREEN BABA YAGA” okay yes but sir, exactly how much longer is this going to go on. if it’s a matter of you wanting to make sure we get it, let me assure you that aside from a few stray chuunis who think that Deku embracing the Darkness is the coolest thing he’s ever done, all of us here in fandom fully comprehend that this is Not Good

-- OH SO IT’S LIKE THAT

really. with the flashbacks to his loved ones’ smiling faces and everything. not even gonna try to aim above the belt, huh

AND NO KACCHAN??! NO CLASSMATES?!?! IS HE PURPOSELY NOT THINKING OF THEM??? OR ARE THEY BEING SAVED FOR THE NEXT PAGE??? SO HELP ME, IF THE NEXT PART OF THIS SENTENCE IS “CAN PROTECT THEM”, OR EVEN WORSE, “CAN SEE THEIR SMILING FACES AGAIN”, I...

WHAT DID I JUST SAY

(ETA: my man did Sero and Kaminari fucking dirty lmao. I miss their smiling faces too omg.)

the sheer, unparalleled irony of him saying this while he stands there looking like the gargoyle demon from Fantasia got crossed with an umbrella that got struck by lightning. Deku :(

oi who the fuck is this clown

is he controlling this mob with his evil hair. “what if I made an exhausted, running-on-fumes Deku battle a brainwashed mob at Ground Zero.” Horikoshi do you just have like a checklist of horrible things you want to do to your protagonist

easy there Sasori

well joke’s on you buddy because he’s apparently “completely fine”, so

“here’s to hoping that you know more about AFO’s location than the others” jesus christ Deku you really have hung your mercy out to dry huh

now he’s forcing his mob of terrified prisoners to attack Deku ahhhh. sucks to be them. at least they’re not being controlled by bees

so Deku is saying that Sasori’s control can be broken with “physical trauma.” similar to Shinsou’s quirk I guess. but so does that mean he’s gonna have to hurt them? ( •﹏•)

NO NOT MORE SAD EYES

“DEATH BY EMPATHY!!!” HORIKOSHI NO

fuck. he looks like he’s on the verge of passing out

this is what happens when you nerf a character’s self-preservation stats in favor of spamming their bone-breaking stats instead. NOW ACCEPTING BRAIN CELL DONATIONS FOR A BOY IN NEED!! with your loving generosity we can hopefully help him live to the ripe old age of seventeen

OMGFGGG

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

[grabs your hands] ლ(*꒪ヮ꒪*)ლ [swings you in a circle] へ(ﾟ◇ﾟへ)

THASSSSSSSS WHATSSSSSSS UPPPPPPPPPP

HORIKOSHI REALLY SAID FUCK THAT MASK (ノ°ο°)ノ YOU FINALLY LEARNED!! IT’S CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!

JUST FOR YOU KACCHAN, HORIKOSHI LEFT THIS ONE BAD GUY WHO’S STILL WEAK TO FIRE. GOD BLESS

IT’S YOUR COUNTERPART, KATSUKI B!!!! HOW WE DOIN OVER THERE IN THE TRIPPY COSMIC OFA SPACE REALM LOL. DO WE BELIEVE YET, FANDOM???

LIGHTS!!!!

INSTANT RESULTS!!! IT’S SUPER EFFECTIVE!!!

(ETA: imagine what this must look like to Deku though. he’s been caught up in this dark cloud of despair and exhaustion that’s been building up over... I’m gonna go ahead and say “weeks”, because yeah. and now he finds himself here, in the place where All Might’s legacy ended and the torch was passed to him. and the world is in ruins, and he’s surrounded by frightened people who are all trying to hurt him -- because who isn’t trying to hurt him, these days -- and he’s scrambling to figure this all out, but meanwhile the weariness is finally starting to catch up to him, and so he’s basically just standing there in a fog of complete and utter misery.

and then all of a sudden through that haze, he hears the one voice that’s more familiar than any other that he knows. like, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he thought he was just imagining it at first. Kacchan showing up to save him right when he’s at his most desperate and feeling the most alone. Kacchan, showing up to save him.

this is the person he always looked up to as a child (to be fair he was quite a strange child lmao). the person who was even closer to him than All Might. the person he always thought was amazing. and bam, here he is now. appearing in the sky out of nowhere to one-shot the bad guy with a single blast (which, btw, that was his armor-piercing attack too lmao dslkjlk take it easy there kiddo). like, that must have felt absolutely surreal to him, especially coming at a time when he’s already half-delirious and barely hanging on to reality. he must have really thought that he was losing it there for a second.

but he’s really there. it really is him. and for this brief moment -- before the rest of the situation catches up to him, and he remembers about all of the fucked-up AFO stuff, and remembers why he was so afraid and why he was pushing everyone away -- for just this one brief moment, he’s too exhausted and stunned to do anything except to just react. just stands there, looking up at him in awe.

and you know, it almost reminds me of...

just. you guys. the character development. the freaking character development. someone who brings reassurance. someone who shows up and makes you think, “oh, it’s all going to be okay now, because [person] is here.” the role reversals. the growth. the payoff!! because who is the one person who always had faith that Kacchan would one day grow up to become an amazing hero like that. WHO IS IT. YOU ALREADY KNOW.

omg. anyways, bless you Horikoshi, my feels which have been on backorder since fucking September have finally arrived lmao. yes, good, thank you. worth the wait. it is always, always worth the wait. fuck yeah.)

“LOWFRIES” SO YOU’RE TELLING ME THE WHOLE GANG IS HERE, AHHHHHHHH (º̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀ )

BEAUTIFUL. WONDERFUL. SENSATIONAL. I DON’T EVEN CARE THAT JUMP IS ON BREAK NEXT WEEK. THIS RIGHT HERE WILL SUSTAIN ME

#bnha 318 #midoriya izuku #BAKUGOU KATSUKI #!!!!#twowy mctwoface #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha meta #bakudeku #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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troquantary · 3 years

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Edward Cullen: That Boy Ain’t Right

So I was doing a reread of @therealvinelle 's collection of Twilight metas, as one does, and in "Edward, Denial, and a Human Girlfriend" she mentions that she doesn't believe Edward is sane. I thought, "ha, yeah, he's definitely not," and also, "but wait, what does that mean exactly, please say more about that." But since she's already inundated with asks, I've decided to use my own head-muscle and explore this idea. (TL;DR: I start out more or less organized, synthesize some points Vinelle has made across several posts (and have hopefully linked to them all where relevant but please tell me if not), touch a little on narcissism, then take a hard left into the negative effects of being a telepath.)

Just a couple things to note at the outset, though. Theses have been written already (probably) about Edward as an abuser. Edward being insane doesn't negate that at all; he's definitely an asshole and just...a disaster of a human being. (I find it more funny than anything, but YMMV.) I'm also going to try to avoid talking specifically about mental illness and how it relates (or doesn't relate) to abusive behavior -- that's territory I'm not really equipped to discuss, like at all. My starting point is "Edward has a deeply warped perception of reality," not "Edward has X disorder."

So: deeply warped perception of reality. The evidence? Goes behind a cut, because my one character trait is Verbose.

Vinelle provides a great example of it in the post linked above, which I'll just quote because she does words good: "[Edward] keeps acting like his romance with Bella is a romantic tragedy, and all the cast of Twilight are actors on a stage making it as sublime as possible." Edward's the one to pursue Bella, but he does so with the full belief, from the very beginning, that it will never last; Bella will "outgrow" him, go on her human way, and he can spend the rest of eternity brooding magnificently over his too-short romantic bliss. [Insert premature ejaculation joke.] Turning her is never an option, even though Alice, Noted Psychic, says that romancing Bella will either end with her dead (exsanguinated) or dead (vampire).

This framing, where he's a dark anti-hero in love with -- but never tainting! -- the pure maiden and eventually leaving her in a grand, tragic sacrifice to preserve her soul? It's fucking bonkers. Bella isn't a person to him in this scenario. As Vinelle points out, Bella's never really a person to him at all; he falls in love with his own mental construct, cherry-picking from what he observes of her behavior and her responses to his 20 (thousand) Questions to convince himself that she is the ideal woman.

Bella's not the only one who gets the projection/cardboard-cutout treatment. Edward sees everything and everyone through a highly particular, personalized lens. He filters his entire reality, which we all do to an extent, but the thing with Edward is that he starts with his conclusions and then only pays attention to the evidence that supports those conclusions. Often that evidence consists of what he admits in New Moon are only "surface" thoughts -- but recognizing that limitation doesn't keep him from taking those thoughts as representative of what people are. Edward then becomes absolutely convinced by his own "reasoning" and won't be swayed from what he has decided is Objectively True. It's obvious with Bella; it's also painfully obvious with Rosalie. (Vinelle explains this and brings up Edward's raging Madonna/Whore complex in the same post, so refer to that again -- she's right.)

He also catastrophizes. Everything. Bella's just vibing in her room, rereading Wuthering Heights for the 87th time? She's gonna be hit by a meteor, better sneak into her room while she sleeps. Bella's going to the beach with the filthy mundanes their human classmates? She's gonna fall in the ocean. Jasper's cannibal pals are stopping by for a visit, but know not to hunt in the area? DISASTER, DEFCON 1, ALSO FUCK YOU JASPER FOR EVEN EXISTING IN MY AND BELLA'S SPHERE YOU UNSPEAKABLE BURDEN. Edward must believe that Bella is vulnerable and in near-constant peril, to support the reality he has created in which he is the villain turned protector and maybe?? hero??? (!!!) for his beloved. So when the actual, James-shaped danger arrives, he goes berserk, snarling and flipping his shit and generally not helping the situation. His fantasy demands that Bella remain human, so instead of doing the very thing Alice, Noted Psychic, assures him will neutralize the threat (and not just a threat to Bella, either, but to Bella's family and any other human James might decide to include in the "game"), he vetoes it immediately, no discussion. Bella Must Not Turn, and he sticks to those guns despite James nearly reducing her to ground beef, despite leaving Bella catatonic with depression (but human! success!) in New Moon, despite Aro's order and his family's vote and, let's not forget, Bella's clearly and repeatedly stated desire to be a vampire. It's going to happen. But he doesn't accept it until Renesmee busts out of Bella like the Kool-Aid man and the poor girl's heart finally, unequivocally stops.

Sane people don't behave this way. I don't want to slap labels on Edward, but I can't help but note that he comes across as highly narcissistic. He's the only real person in his universe, the lone player among us NPCs. That probably has a lot to do with him being frozen in the mindset and maturity of a seventeen-year-old boy, but I think it's also just...him, on some fundamental level. His failure to connect with others and recognize them as full, independent beings with their own wants and priorities isn't like Bella's failure -- she's badly depressed. Edward is...something else, and I get the sense that his sanity has been steadily deteriorating over time. And a cursory google of narcissistic traits turns up some familiar-looking stuff. He's self-loathing, yes, but also grandiose; he hates himself for the monster he is (and hates most vampires besides Esme and Carlisle for their monstrosity, too) but still feels superior to humans, to the extent that he felt entitled to human blood and resented Carlisle for depriving him of his "proper" diet. He eventually returns to Carlisle, but he's far from content -- the beginning of Midnight Sun finds him in a state of ennui, bored and dismissive of (if not outright disgusted by) everyone around him, that has apparently persisted for years and years. He doesn't play the piano, he doesn't compose, he doesn't enjoy anything...at least until Bella comes along and then he becomes obsessed to a disturbing degree with her and his new, romantic tragedy spin on reality.

[Next-day edit: I’m not sure where else to fit this in, but the way Edward casually contemplates violence against people who have, at best, mildly annoyed him is...chilling. I have a hard time writing off his strategizing how to murder the entire Biology class as a result of bloodlust -- it’s so calculated, nothing like the blackout state of thirst Emmett describes when he encountered his own “singer,” and that is probably the default for when a vampire is extremely thirsty. But even ignoring the Biology class incident, Edward still does things like consider, with disturbing frequency, how he might grievously injure or kill Mike Newton, all because...Edward considers him his romantic rival (despite Bella barely giving the kid the time of day). He thinks about slapping Mike through a wall, which might be an amusing slapstick image, except as a vampire Edward’s actually capable of turning this boy’s skeleton to a fine powder. So it’s, y’know, kind of sick when you think about it.

But even worse than that, when Bella tells Edward about how she flirted with Jacob to get at that sweet, sweet vampire lore, Edward chuckles and then, after dropping Bella home, flippantly observes that now that the treaty’s broken, why not genocide? I’m not even kidding, it’s right there in Midnight Sun; he seriously thinks about the fact that he’d be technically justified now in wiping out the entire tribe because a teenager tried to impress a girl with a spooky story. That is fucked. Remember, Edward was there with Carlisle when the treaty was first established. He knows how remarkable it is that they even came to a truce in the first place, that it was only ever possible because Carlisle is...well, Carlisle, and that it marks a pretty significant moment in supernatural history. He doesn’t care; he doesn’t respect it, or he’d never think something like “Ha ha, if I went and killed them all, I wouldn’t even be wrong. I mean, I won’t do it, but I’m just saying, I wouldn’t be wrong.”

Again: not the thought process or behavior of a sane person. (Or a person that respects life in general -- sorry Carlisle, big L.)]

Finally, whether he's a narcissist or not, I think the fact that Edward has constant, unavoidable access to everyone's thoughts is a powerful contributing factor to his instability. He can tune out the mental noise to an extent, but he can't stop it -- so he comes to rely on it like another sense. This causes issues with disconnect and lack of empathy, of course, but there's another facet to this shit diamond: he's basically experiencing a ceaseless flow of intrusive thoughts. His narration in Midnight Sun suggests that he "hears" the words people think, can "see" what they visualize in their mind's eye, and can sense the emotional "tone" and intensity of their thoughts. Therefore, perceiving Jasper's thirst through his thoughts makes Edward more aware of his own, "doubling" the discomfort. This would be a lot to deal with even from just his immediate coven members, but Edward gets all of this pouring into his head like a firehose on a day-to-day basis because the Cullens live right alongside humans. I know Meyerpires have galaxy brains or whatever, but that's a ton to process.

Besides the compounding effect on his own thirst when he "feels" the thirst of others, Meyer never suggests that Edward has difficulty separating his own thoughts from other people's; even when he was newly turned, he recognized Carlisle's "voice" in his head as Carlisle's. That would create a whole different host of issues around identity, but it looks like Edward's escaped that particular torment. However, I can easily imagine that what he does experience is just shy of unbearable nonetheless, with an eroding effect on his sanity over decades. He can't sleep to escape it; he's on a dishwater diet and probably (like the rest of his family) experiencing a perpetual, low-grade physical discomfort due to his thirst never being fully satisfied; and he's around far more people than is the norm for vampires -- even discounting all the humans, his own coven is unusually large -- meaning more noise.

Honestly, it would be weirder if he were all there, considering.

And even though I feel like I lost a sense of structure around where I started ranting about telepathy, I've written like 1.5k words about Edward fucking Cullen and I think that's enough for one post.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight meta #edward cullen #i stared too long and the twilight abyss gazed back #long post #major credit due to therealvinelle for having basically all the ideas already #theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin too since they agree and build off each other's metas a lot #idk how people who write meta can just crank these posts out i've been here for two hours #edited to add stuff i forgot to mention about edward's disproportionately violent fantasies

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asmallnerd · 3 years

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Autistic Shoto Todoroki

The analysis

First off, I would like to say that this is purely a passion project. I am not a professional, I am an autistic teenager and I’m just very interested in this character because I heavily relate to him. I’ve collected some scenes from the manga and two specific things from the third light novel.

If you could boost this (if you’re interested that’d be great because while I really enjoy doing this it does take a lot of time! With that being said let’s dive into this and I hope you find this interesting!

Could Shoto Todoroki be autistic? Here is why I think he absolutely could.

Emotional perception

Let’s start with one of the most obvious things about his character. The emotional factor.

Shoto doesn’t emote in the way his peers do. Now, of course this also plays into the brooding mysterious guy archetype, but that’s not what we’re talking about.

Shoto’s face is typically relatively neutral, this is apparent from the moment we first meet him and while he does tend to express his emotions more clearly later in the story, it doesn’t ever really change. Something that immediately comes to mind is how in chapter 202 Iida asks if Shoto is alright because Iida noticed his expression change (because he knows him very well by this point). Ojiro points out that he did not notice this, since Shoto’s face barely changes at all.

We see Shoto in a lot of situations where his peers show excitement while his expression remans completely flat. This lack of emoting is something extremely common in people with autism. It’s not that they don’t have emotions or don’t express them at all, they just do it in a way that is hard to understand for people outside the spectrum or those who don’t know the autistic individual very well. They often struggle to understand what emotion they’re feeling in the first place and of course it’s hard to express feelings if you don’t know what you’re feeling.

Shoto doesn’t only show difficulty expressing his emotions but also recognizing those of other people. One of the best examples of this is the final exam arc, where he gets paired up with Yaoyorozu. In chapter 63 specifically, he doesn’t realize that Yaoyorozu is upset about something even though to someone else it’d probably have been obvious. Only when Aizawa points out that he should listen to her does he notice that he’s been doing something wrong. Shoto didn’t notice she was upset, and he didn’t notice he was being rude.

Emotions and emotional responses are continuously shown to be difficult for Shoto to handle. What he has absolutely no issues with, on the other hand, are academics. Of course, we can naturally assume that he’s been drilled to study hard from a very young age, but he is also extremely intelligent outside of the classroom. During the sports festival he is the first person shown to figure out that the obstacle course poses a lot more disadvantages to the people in the lead, during the practical exam, he is able to come up with a solid strategy very quickly.

During the training camp arc, him and Deku are the ones to come up with a strategy to protect Bakugo on the spot. He also doesn’t seem to consider his intelligence anything special. A lot of autistic people tend to assume that other people’s experiences align with their own. This can be seen when he seems surprised about Denki worrying that he’ll fail the written final exam. He asks how he could possibly fail if he’s been attending class, like the concept is entirely foreign to him (also there’s about a 0% chance this was a joke because this is Shoto we’re talking about.) He is very good at logical problem solving but emotional issues seem to stump him.

Literacy and verbal filters

Moving on, another big factor that Shoto seems to struggle with is his tendency to be overly literal and very blunt. There are several instances where he says things that we as readers as well as other characters perceive as insensitive. Once again, his interaction with Denki about the final exams (chapter 60) can be an example. He didn’t seem to think it was inappropriate and because this is Shoto, he didn’t ask to tease him either. Denki even points out that this was insensitive to say. A more subtle example is his conversation with Izuku in chapter 73, when they talk about Kota. His overall phrasing is fine, but he remains very blunt and direct and essentially ends up telling Izuku that his tendency to cut to people’s hearts with his words is annoying.

My personal favorite for an example can be found in chapter 83, in the hospital after the training camp, when the class visits Izuku, Shoto points out that “Of course Bakugo isn’t here.” Needless to say, he couldn’t possibly have timed this statement any worse. It wasn’t necessary in the first place, but he didn’t register it as something inappropriate to say.

One example of not him being unintentionally rude but just showing a different approach to telling the truth is seen in the third light novel. The fifth chapter revolves around the class preparing a birthday party for Iida. At one point, Sato asks if Iida has food allergies out of nowhere. Iida naturally asks why he needs to know this, Shoto is immediately ready to answer the question honestly, which would have spoiled the surprise, had Izuku not stepped in.

Autistic people often have trouble seeing whether something is or isn’t appropriate to say. Neurotypical people’s brains have a filtering process, it helps them be aware of possible responses to a statement. This filtering process is not functional or only limited in autistic people.

Shoto is also overly literal. In chapter 57, he gets upset over his friends continuously getting their hands hurt and refers to himself as “the hand crusher”. He is very serious about this and does not understand how Iida and Izuku could possibly think he was joking.

In chapter 164, he answers Gang Orca’s metaphoric question entirely seriously. During the interview training in chapter 241 he first seems confused by the made-up mission in the first place. He then proceeds to ask Mt Lady if she has a heart condition when she uses the phrase “My heart would burst out of my chest”. Finally, he appears genuinely horrified when she calls him a “lady killer” (“My smile will kill women..?!”)

In chapter 257, when Mineta claims school talk will “ruin the taste of the food”, Shoto simply says it tastes the same to him, to which Mineta proceeds to call him out for being overly literal.

Autistic people typically struggle to understand jokes and sarcasm, in fact, it’s often one of the main characteristics in people with an ASD diagnosis.

Overfamiliarity and Oversharing

Shoto’s tendency to overshare is another thing that is very typical foe ASD.

He doesn’t seem to understand that telling his life story to a classmate he’s barely interacted with prior is not exactly an appropriate thing to do. He repeats this later with All Might and, most notably, in chapter 165, when talking to the preschoolers during his provisional licensing course.

He also seems to have a slightly different perception of what makes someone friends than his classmates. As shown in chapter 241, to him, spending time with Bakugo during the licensing course is enough to deem them friends. Even when Bakugo points out that there is no correlation between the time spent together and friendship, he still doesn’t seem to understand.

Autistic people tend to become overly familiar and are easily attached to people if they perceive just one of their interactions as positive.

Attachment to inanimate things

This is something not really shown in the manga, but noteworthy, nonetheless. We know that Shoto, upon moving into the dorm building, remodeled his entire room from a modern, more western style room, into a traditional Japanese style one. The second chapter of the third novels goes into depth about why he did this. Shoto was entirely dumbstruck and thrown off by how different the room is from what he was used to. He knew the traditional Japanese rooms from home and his brain assumed that the dorms would be the same. He felt like the different style was wrong. He doesn’t like the unfamiliar flooring and even a small thing like the positioning of the light switch bother him.

He’s not comfortable in the unfamiliar environment, so he decides to change it.

Autistic people often struggle to adjust to changes. In environment and routine. They feel most comfortable in a well established and familiar routine, that includes the feel of their living space. A change of environment this drastic would be extremely stressful for someone on the spectrum.

Another thing that isn’t particularly obvious but does make sense when considered is that Shoto seems to have a comfort food (cold soba). While he’s never shown or stated to be a picky eater he does seem to opt for the same food whenever he gets the chance. Autistic people often have a very restricted diet due to sensory processing issues that apply to food textures, smells and taste.

Additional points

Shoto seems to be a little face blind. He doesn’t know who Kota is when Izuku mentions him, which seems to genuinely surprise Izuku. He also didn’t remember Inasa at all despite them having been at the same entrance exam.

In chapter 202 he’s shown completely zoning out. Of course, this can happen to anyone, I just found it interesting because it was shown so clearly, making it obvious that it was something we should pay attention to.

In the novel chapter in which he remodels his room it is also mentioned that the feeling of synthetic floor against his feet upsets him.

Shoto also seems relatively indifferent to temperature. Of course, that would correlate to his quirk as well, but it is also common for autistic people to struggle with temperature perception as well as other things that neurotypical people don’t struggle to recognize like hunger or thirst. This specifically applies to situations where you would typically end up in pain like, for example, frostbite. Shoto would obviously be used tot his but him showing no reaction at all to his body halfway freezing over was a little unnerving.

He also is shown to be relatively uninterested in certain social events like for example the room competition after the class moves into the dorms. He doesn’t want to be there; he’d rather go to sleep. In the beginning he also shows clear disinterest in making friends with his classmates. Both very typical things for people on the spectrum.

In chapter 244, Hawks asks Shoto a question in a way that seems to confuse him so much he can’t even form a coherent response. [Hawks: “Seemed like you were in trouble, Endeavor.” Endeavor: “Me? Not a chance.” Hawks: “But it seemed that way, didn’t it, Shoto?” Shoto: “Um..I…uh…”]

He probably didn’t register if Hawks actually wanted him to answer or not.

In chapter 64 he mistakes Yaoyorozu crying for her feeling sick, horribly misreading her expressions.

This last point is more personal than the rest, watching his reactions to Endeavor’s fight with the Nomu in chapter 190 made me think of the stress progression that often causes autistic shutdowns. Shoto was clearly becoming more and more stressed as he was watching and once it was over simply seemed to shut down. That is a very typical response to emotional distress or overstimulation in autistic people.

Final disclaimer

This is purely for my own entertainment; it is not meant to be offensive to anyone and I am not saying that this is absolutely what is going on. I’m simply elaborating on a theory/headcanon that I have. That being said, if you have questions feel free to drop them in the ask box, I’d be thrilled!

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #shoto todoroki #boku no hero textpost #mha textpost #bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #character analysis #shoto todoroki analysis #autistic shoto todoroki #autism headcanon #op is autistic #special interest #long post

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sukunasbabygirl · 3 years

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The time has come for me to put some wild thoughts I have about Jekyll and Hyde and stuff I‘ve discussed with @journeys-collide

Gonna get right into it and I have no idea how long this is gonna be!

When you think of Antagonistic characters in TGS the first thought is probably Dr Moreau, Frankenstein and even sometimes Hyde himself but there is another.

And that is Dr Henry Jekyll himself.

To explain this we need to look at the definition of an antagonist

In Jekyll’s case, the person he opposes and is hostile towards is himself - Hyde.

The Glass Scientists is written from the two main perspectives of Hyde and Jekyll, only occasionally deviating from these two. With these perspectives we see shifts in how people are viewed, especially themselves.

The first perspective we get in the story is Hyde, but later switches to what we can assume is Jasper’s. And Jasper’s perspective is the perfect introduction to Jekyll. At the start he’s portrayed as he is in most media through character interactions and colours too.

He’s a benevolent and well-loved man, charming, seen by Jasper in a way that he’s literally shining. We have yet to see that much of him, and by using Jasper’s perspective, by using these soft colours, it disguises a very quick nod to his flawed self - he’s subtly manipulating the police in this.

I should say I don’t believe Jekyll is a bad person, but he’s not a good person either, and he knows exactly how to get what he wants (which is something that translates over to Hyde) and this only fails when people start to see through him.

Another important thing is the two different introductions we get of Hyde.

The first few pages of the comic are Hyde’s perspective (which makes the choice of vibrant colours so interesting and gives us an idea of how Hyde sees the world and London but I digress)

He’s not shown to be dangerous in anyway, if a little dramatic, wild and a bit rude.

But then we get this.

We see Hyde from Jekyll’s perspective and we see how Hyde can act towards him. He’s less subtle with his manipulation, but it’s still effective. He’s Jekyll. He knows what Jekyll fears, what he thinks. And he uses that. It only becomes ineffective when Jekyll, like the policemen did to him, sees through him.

At this point we have the understanding Hyde is the antagonistic character to Jekyll. It fits well, once again, with what we see frequently in media. Jekyll is the weaker one and Hyde has power of him… until he doesn’t.

This scene turns that well known narrative on its head and its Jekyll who takes charge in this scene, but it’s understandable. His logic makes sense and he’s very much on the right end here.

From Hyde’s perspective later on it feels as if Jekyll is the dramatic one, locking him away in their mind, until you realise it’s been a week at most and Hyde doesn’t have long left to go, and that’s what a simple perspective switch can do.

Jekyll here is thinking logically and is still, in this situation, acting as the story’s hero (I don’t want to use protagonist because that’s a general term for main character and antagonists can be protagonists but I again digress)

For this portion of the story, Hyde becomes an antagonist again. He torments Jekyll and lets loose the nightmares. He’s honestly pretty terrifying, and he’s doing this all for the equivalent of an illegal mall. Iconic.

With Hyde it’s also an important thing to note that he runs on adrenaline. He doesn’t think before he acts or speaks - he’s highly impulsive.

With stuff like this it’s hard to say how true it is and how much of it is just Hyde on a rush. In the mind it’s much clearer because he’s not half-high on HJ7, but when he’s out and transformed it’s entirely different. He’s wild. Unpredictable. He’s desperate to get out because that’s what Jekyll wants. It’s not in a burning desire sort of way, more-so Jekyll’s stress and fear pushing these ideas onto him, and that’s what Hyde was created for in the end, so it makes sense for him to act the way he does.

Yet Jekyll still acts as if he’s above Hyde.

And it’s these pages that show it.

Hyde may be an antagonistic force towards Jekyll, but it goes both ways.

It’s actually quite similar to the scene where we first see Hyde and Jekyll properly interact. Despite the perspectives, there is no bias. This is truly what’s happening. There is no over exaggerating or sugar coating.

Jekyll genuinely treats himself as above Hyde here, even if they are one in the same, and he may do so without even entirely realising it. He refers to him as a stupid child for one thing. He talks down on him. Mocks him.

You could argue that his anger and mockery is understandable. Hyde tormented and tortured him for freedom he could have just waited for. He almost got them in serious dangers too. And you’d be right.

And then Jekyll does this.

And this is where Jekyll finally hits his peak as Hyde’s antagonist. As his own antagonist.

A very important thing here is the way the panels are laid out. In the image above we don’t see Hyde’s mouth but we do see is eyes which are arguably the most expressive facial feature. His eyes are wide and in fear, there are scratchy bag under his eyes and you genuinely feel for him.

Jekyll on the other hand only has his mouth visible. He’s smiling. It’s impossible to tell his true feelings and it makes it feel empty and cruel. It’s still from Hyde’s perspective, it’s MEANT to do this.

If it’s not obvious by my multiple repeats of perspective then what my dumb brain is getting at is that whoever’s perspective it is, the antagonist changes! It’s really neat honestly.

Even when we see Jekyll’s eyes, he still looks cruel. He’s practically at war with himself now. He loses nothing by getting rid of Hyde because it’s not a split down the soul, it’s more or less an addition that was filtered down to remove it of fears and anxiety and restraint. But, without Jekyll, Hyde loses everything.

Honestly writing all this has only made me love TGS Jekyll (and Hyde) more. Making him a complex and flawed character like in the book rather than the staple of good we’ve come to know is something I’d love to see more in J&H adaptations. Its made for a seriously interesting duo who function as both the protagonists and antagonists of their own story.

Honestly I had so much more stuff to say but there’s a ten image limit and I need the images so I can actually focus on my point and not go on an unrelated tangent… which I probably ended up doing anyway pff.

#the glass scientists #tgs #tgs analysis #dr jekyll and mr hyde #tgs henry jekyll #dr henry jekyll #dr Jekyll #tgs edward hyde #edward hyde #mr hyde

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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A Lazy Day with MC and the Brothers

I was just chilling one day and thought about how a lazy day in with our boys might be like… I like hijinks, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes we ought to slow down too, you know?

Check my Masterlist for more!

Warning: Slight NSFW-ish? I dunno how to tag innuendo...

Lucifer

First off, hats off for managing to convince the guy to just do nothing for any length of time. That’s some seriously impressive persuasive powers, MC, you sure you don’t know how to charm?

Lazy Lucifer=Sleepy Lucifer. He spends so many nights up late getting work done then follows it up by getting up early in order to wrangling his brothers. It's honestly like it all catches up with him... He’s sleeping in and he’s sleeping in HARD.

Might text one of his brothers to bring them in a late breakfast at some point (never mind the fact it’s practically dinner). Beel would be the one most likely to agree to it, but he also may just eat whatever he picked up on the way there so hopefully someone else is feeling charitable… Try Asmo.

Honestly, his entire goal is to not leave the bedroom at all. If he leaves, then he runs the risk of people seeing him… wait for it... relaxing. Oh, just imagine the scandal!!

Some classical music, a bit of conversation, and maybe a good book in bed would all sound like heaven to him. They may have to get up to make some tea to go along with it, just remind him that drinking coffee on your recharge days can have the opposite effect. The taste of coffee could always just end up reminding him of work anyway…

The evening can go one of two ways. Calm and peaceful or "stress relieving." If they chose the stress relieving option, best be prepared because he'll have a whole night's worth of stress to let out and he's going to need some help… 😏

Mammon

He’s going to want to be close to the MC the whole time, they can hold onto him or him onto them, whatever works. It doesn’t matter as long as there’s still some kind of contact happening.

A whole day with just him and the MC? And they don’t even have to be doing anything? Where can he sign up??

Cue a lot of doing nothing in particular with Mammon tangled up on them in some way: hugging their waist while he checks his phone, resting their legs on his lap during a gaming session, wrapping himself around them while they just have casual conversation. That kind of thing.

When they eventually get hungry then he might pop down to the kitchen and make them some instant noodles (I wouldn’t trust much else he tries to make since… well we know he kind of just adds whatever’s around to his food).

He might start getting a little restless part of the way through the day though, so they’re going to have to do something to get that energy out… 🤔

Use your imagination, I know this fandom can.

Leviathan

The reigning Prince of Lazy Days. Everything about Levi screams “goof off/game night buddy” (at least if the MC is a fellow otaku anyway).

He probably didn’t sleep the night before because he was playing/watching something so the morning will go down one of two ways: 1) He just pulls an all-nighter and begins to progressively lose his mind as the day goes on, or 2) He’s dead to the world until 2pm. Only one of those options is entertaining so you know what I'm going with.

Things will go pretty smoothly through the morning. They don’t have to go anywhere because his room has plenty of snacks so they can just chill out and watch anime or play video games.

Buuut stuff will get more dicey as the afternoon rolls around and his sleep deprivation sets in. He’ll start losing a lot of his filter and may ramble for even longer than normal with even less coherency. He’ll also get more um… "bold" than usual.

Or he may just want to cuddle with them while he babbles on about how much he loves them and how warm they are and how much they remind him of Henry, which reminds him have they seen the latest season of “My Life with Seven Demon Brothers Who All Love Me!” yet because the main character there also reminds him of them and-

He’ll pass out eventually, probably latched onto them somehow with his tail around them tenderly. Don’t bring it up to him in the morning because he will unsuccessfully try to deny it ever happened.

Satan

Not opposed to the occasional lazy day. It actually does good for his nerves since holding in all that pent-up anger can feel like stuffing an elephant into a tea kettle sometimes...

They’re going to want to get him out of his bedroom or the library if they don’t want to fight for his attention against whatever new book he’s eating through today. When the man gets engrossed then it’s like nothing else matters, the House could split in two and he'll only notice if he suddenly can’t reach his drink anymore...

May actually be advantageous to go outside with him, take a nice stroll around the House while having some interesting conversation. They could poke his brain about anything that suits their fancy while they’re out amongst the trees and nature.

If they don’t want to go outside and rather take their chances with the book then okay but the engrossment problem still applies. He may even forget to eat...

Best way to combat his lack of attention is to be a little brat that’s juuust cute enough not to piss him off. It’s a delicate balance. That means getting real close to him, like sitting on his legs, and just occasionally reminding him of their presence with longing looks while tapping, flicking, or messing with the book from time to time (yes, kind of like an attention-seeking cat).

Play it just right and they’ll get attention on them alright, but he may also be looking to punish his “needy kitty." Hope that’s what they’re aiming for... 🤷‍♀️

Asmodeus

Really? They want to do nothing? Nothing at all? Are they sure they don’t want to do him instead...? 😏

A relaxing day with Asmo is more or less like a day spent wrapped up in mutual worship and adoration. The guy wants all of their attention and love but he’ll return it and then some. As long as they treat him like the love of their lives it will honestly be like having their own day spa day in Heaven.

If the MC wants to relax, then he’s just the sort to know how to provide for them both. The only question is how do they want it?

The man can give them a full treatment, I mean, just look at his bathroom alone! A good soak in a hot bath, facial masks, back massages, mani-pedis, just say the word MC and he’s more than willing to bestow whatever their little heart desires. That’s his job, isn’t it?

Asmo may be a party boy, but if it’s a little TLC you need, emphasis on the T, then look no farther MC. He’s the guru.

On the flipside if they’re looking for a little release well… who better to ask than Asmo right? He’ll make sure they’ll never want to leave that bed again. 🤭

Beelzebub

As long as snacks are still involved then he’s all in, babe. He’ll do nothing with them all day as long as they keep him fed.

Two words. Couples. Cooking. They can’t skip a meal with Beel so if they’re going to spend lazy time with the dude then they better be planning on being a tag along to the kitchen.

It doesn’t have to be a super strict though, it’s not like they’re not cooking with Barbatos or anything, so they can goof off and make a bit of a mess together. Chances are Beel will eat the ingredients to whatever they’re making anyway so... 😅

A lot of lingering touches and just being close to each other as they go. He might want to hold their waist while they stir or they end up feeding each other in cutesy ways... Really it’s a ridiculously wholesome time.

At one point a food fight may break out and they'll cover themselves in flour, tomato sauce, or some other kind of messy food substance...

Careful, MC. Whatever they get covered in will likely only make them look more delicious to him and he might want to "clean them off".... They'll need to take that out of the kitchen, though, like what if someone needs a snack??

Belphegor

The reigning King of Lazy Days. Take notes, MC, for you are watching the Master at work...

Sleeping in and cuddling is a must. He will not let them leave the bed all morning for anything less than a Category Four Emergency (i.e. “I’m going to starve to death” or “I really gotta go piss”). He will pin them under his sleeping body if he has to!

Once they’ve thoroughly missed breakfast and half past noon rolls around he might call in takeout from Hell’s Kitchen for them to eat in the attic room. Expect some cheeky conversation, probably jokes at the expense of his brothers. Cuddling is still absolutely happening, of course, they cannot shake him off.

May borrow an anime from Levi to watch while they snuggle on the couch. He has all the best blankets in the House so they will be neither cold nor uncomfortable throughout.

His hands get a little grabby during these kinds of cuddle sessions, especially during tense moments in the show because he likes to give them a little jolt to make them yelp, the jerk... 😖

If he manages to not drift off during the show (flip a coin on that chance) the night will end in the planetarium, backs on a pile of blankets while they draw pictures in the stars… All hail the King. 😏

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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1engele · 3 years

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daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 1. petrichor

You move to a small, rural town, in the middle of nowhere, accompanying your mother. Nockfell, she says. A boy named Larry Johnson introduces you to his friend, Sal Fisher, occasionally dubbed "Sally Face." Your feelings cloud your judgement and you get yourself caught up in what seems will change you and Sal Fisher's life, forever.

[warnings: cursing, smoking]

"the kind of blue that makes you ache."

—

Sticky wood against your skin, the hard pressure of the surface beneath your face. The unrhythmic pulsing of the migraine that pressed at the sides of your skull—like phantom palms, relentlessly squeezing your brain.

You slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before squinting as you adjusted to the dimness of the room. The noon sun filtered through the windows and cast its golden warmth over every surface. Its comfort found its way over your face, and you breathed in slowly.

You could see the dust particles floating through the air. The sunshine opened out its rays over the beige carpet. You crawled from the dinner table, laid on the soft floor, and allowed yourself to bathe in the welcoming heat.

Your fingers absentmindedly began to play with the looped fibers beneath you as you stared up at the dull ceiling and thought. Today you and your mother had awoken at an unearthly hour of the morning to start your travels to a town called Nockfell.

You'd arrived hours later. At the moment, your mother, who was named Michelle, was out at her new job—a supervisor position at a bank, or something. She'd also worked at a bank in your old town but was promoted to another location and that was the reason for the move.

You had the apartment to yourself. It wasn't much better than your last flat—equally as unsettling as the last.

Your body jerked and you murmured a frustrated curse as the resoundingly impressive knocking of your door frightened you into an upright position. You scrambled onto your feet, the heated carpet warming your soles.

After you'd approached the door, you turned the doorknob and pulled it open as far as the safety chain would allow. You then settled your weight on your right foot and leaned toward the opening. The cool, dead air of the hallway breezed your face.

A boy, with long brown hair and dark eyes. Seemed to be around your age, and taller than you. He was tanned. You assumed it was genetic, as your mother informed you the weather in Nockfell was almost always droll and depressing.

You had to incline your chin upward an inch to meet the brunette's eyes.

A person stood behind him, with eye-catching blue hair that wisped past their ears and brushed their shoulders. Matching eyes, a bit lighter than their cerulean hair. The only thing about this person that seemed a bit jarring was the mask they wore. They were smaller than the boy beside him, and you were able to look them right in the eyes.

You weren't any type to judge off of appearances, so you didn't spend much time staring.

"Hello," you press a shoulder against the door, awkwardly fidgeting. "I'm- do you.."

Before you can painfully struggle for something to say, the tallest boy resolves your conflict. "Hi," he grins easily. "I'm Larry, and this is Sal. He and I had the idea to swing by and welcome you to Addison's.."

He trails off, noticing your disheveled state and tired eyes. You were conscious enough to recognize his hesitation and quickly rubbed the sleep from your eyes. "Oh. Oh. Sorry- I know I look so bad right now.." You quickly passed a hand through your hair and licked your lips. "I was laying on the floor when you knocked."

Why did you say that? You've made yourself out to be a real weirdo, haven't you, Y/N?

"Larry", glances over at his friend "Sal" amusedly, almost like he knew something you didn't. His eyes then revert to you. He opens his mouth to speak, but his blue-haired friend beats him to it.

"You're going to Nockfell, right? I'd say you're 16, like us.."

Yeah, okay. Any suspicions a person could have about Sal's gender upon just seeing him—you didn't, his build was masculine enough and you'd already watched his Adam's apple bob, and Larry had referred to him with male pronouns prior—would probably cease upon hearing him speak.

After realizing you should speak, and not silently trail your eyes down his body, you replied. "Oh, yeah. I'll start the same day as everybody else. Shouldn't that be tomorrow, or-"

"After that," Sal tentatively cut you off, and you watched him swallow. It was sweet, his resignation. Like he was constantly worried about offending. "The day after that."

You felt as though you were missing something.

"Oh!" You exclaimed, embarrassment washing over your features. You quickly tell them your name, regretting not having said it earlier.

Beneath the tank top, you were wearing, your bra strap slipped further down your shoulder. You felt it slide. Oops, you thought, comprehending the fact that it had been misplaced the entire conversation.

Quickly, you pushed it back up and reached for the doorknob. "Okay, um, see you guys then!" And then basically slammed the door in their faces.

You slapped a palm over your mouth. "Oh my god," you breathed, abashed at yourself. "That was horrible."

They'll probably make fun of how awkward you are at school, you thought. "I wouldn't blame them," you told yourself.

At the time, you didn't realize the importance of that meeting. But, then and again, if it hadn't happened that day it would definitely have later.

The next day you and your mother settled further into the apartment. Your mother was supposed to start work the following day so that meant she had time to properly furnish your apartment. The moving vehicle had arrived a day after you'd arrived in Nockfell, which was "highly inconvenient and unconventional", to quote your mother directly.

Uninterested in watching your mother painstakingly put flower arrangements together, you took it upon yourself to explore the property and familiarize yourself with Addison's Apartments. There wasn't really much of anything besides trees and grass and the view of buildings in the distance. Oh, and the treehouse. Curiosity got the best of you and you made your way towards it.

It had rained in the night. You could smell the scent of water on dry earth and feel it against your hands and face. You tasted mist on your tongue and your sneakers squeaked on the wettish grass. You could practically feel the dampened mud staining the white soles.

You almost slipped climbing up the ladder and into the treehouse. You were glad you weren't being watched because the face of terror you'd just made was really embarrassing.

The structure was actually pretty impressive. If you could live in it, you would. A few posters here and there and a lot of storage for nicknacks and food. A family photo and a stool. A toolbox, some other shit- it was almost as if people hung out in this extremely well-kept treehouse a lot.

Fuck. You didn't expect the damn thing to be lived in. You'd expected the thing to be made in the 70s and extremely old and abandoned. You'd practically just broke into someone's property! You'd burglarized this treehouse!

"I have to get out of here," you murmur, frantically. "Before we get evicted."

That actually wouldn't be too bad, you replied to yourself. Pissing Michelle off would be really funny.

Letting out a breath, you move from the window and pivot around to climb back down the ladder and run like hell. Instead, your ears absorb the sound of creaking and boyish laughter. You have no time to react before the blue-haired boy you'd met the following day is climbing into the treehouse and meeting your eyes.

His laughter ceases and you scramble to explain yourself as his brown-haired friend follows him into the treehouse.

"I am so sorry," you rush. "I thought this thing was abandoned. I had no clue it was yours. I'm really, really sorry. Seriously. I, um- I'll leave, and I swear I've-"

Larry jerks like he was trying to hold back laughter and promptly fails. He sounds like he's going to bust a gut and you feel your face growing hot. Through your heavy embarrassment, you're concerned he's going to fall out of the treehouse from where he sat on the edge of the entrance.

His friend sends his elbow in Larry's ribs. Larry groans in pain.

“I think what Larry was trying to say there was that it's perfectly fine," Sal looks away from Larry and his steady blue eyes meet with yours. "Really. Not a big deal. Right, Larry?"

Larry wheezes promptly.

"See?"

You can't help but giggle. You quiet yourself as quickly as it starts, and hoped he hadn't heard. When you look away from Sal, you miss his softening eyes.

Larry grins at you. "Laughing at my suffering, it seems. I see how it is." He grunts in his effort to get himself up and on his feet. He's on one knee when he speaks again, an elbow resting on his knee. "What the hell is in that lanky ass arm, Sal? Steel?"

"Something like that," Sal replies, the sound of a smile on his tongue. You meet his eyes again. "So," he says your name, slowly. You breathe in but it hitches. "Why'd you move to Nockfell?"

"No reason that's interesting," you state. "My mom was relocated for work." You step back toward your back presses against the wooden wall and relax your shoulders. "And why did you?"

Sal blinked from behind his prosthetic. He doesn't answer your question but instead returns it with his own. "How'd you know I moved?"

"You don't sound like you're from here," You answered. "Where are you from?"

"Jersey." He returned, gazing at you curiously.

"You guys are like old people," Larry has finally got to his feet, brushing off the black denim on his knees with his palms. He rises to his full height and momentarily startles you. Despite his statement, he asks you his own question. "You miss your friends back home?"

You smiled despite everything. "Oh. Haha, no. I didn't really have a best friend or anything like that. I sort of floated. Never really met anybody."

He pauses. "Well, you live in our complex now." Larry runs a hand through his hair and looks down at you. "If you want, we can both be your friends."

Your eyes widen, and a wholesome feeling flutters in your chest. "Oh!" You glance over to Sal. "I- sure! If you'll have me."

Larry flashes his well-kept teeth. "Good! We need some more females within the gang, don't we, Sal?"

Sal looks as though he cringed. "Please don't call them females. And, uh- sure, I guess."

After that, it isn't a few minutes until you all sit down. You pull your legs criss-cross applesauce and plant your elbows in your knees, resting your chin on your hands.

"So," Larry says your name. "Ever smoke before?"

Your eyebrows raise.

"Sweet Jesus," Sal mutters. "Larry, you can't ask her that." Despite himself, he reaches for the cigarettes Larry's just pulled from his pocket.

"I only asked a question. You're a bully."

You look on in amusement. You can't help but feel a bit nervous about the prospect of doing something you've seen be demonized so often. "I haven't," but this is a new start, right? "Are you offering?"

"Oh, sure," Larry leans toward where you're sat directly in front of him. "Do you want to? Just asking. You seriously don't have to."

It was amusing how hard he was trying not to be to peer-pressure you. You still felt an anxious feeling, but that was only natural. The want to do something "rebellious" overpowered your inner unease. "Uh, yeah. I'd like to."

And with that, he resigns to his own cigarette and slowly lays back onto the wooden floor, brown eyes stuck on the ceiling. Smoke cascades from his mouth and floats through the air. The treehouse begins to smell like a bonfire, the earthy scent sticking to the wood.

You move closer to Sal and maneuver yourself onto your knees.

"Alright," he starts, to himself. He grasps your hand—which makes your heart jump, and you can't tell whether or not you're nervous or his touch had just heightened your attention for whatever reason—and places the cigarette in your hand. "Put the smoke between your teeth."

You follow his instructions. Sal's suddenly closer to you, flicking the lighter with the pad of his thumb and birthing a flame. "Okay, stay still." Suddenly, his unoccupied hand is brushing your hair aside and ghosting the side of your neck before sliding back and flattening on your nape. Chills erupt all over your body from being touched so personally by the opposite sex.

Your nerves are all over as he gets even closer, inches the flame to the end of the cigarette, and lights it.

He pulls back. "Alright," Sal watches you intently. "Now take it and inhale."

As you do so, you notice him stand and walk to the side in your peripheral.

Inhaling it into your lungs tastes like oxygen deprivation and extremely burnt steak. Your entire body is shaking and shuddering as your body instinctively attempts to repel whatever you've just sent into it. Suddenly, there's a water bottle in your hands, and the cigarette has been taken away. The cap has been unscrewed prior, thankfully, and you drink the water. It tastes like god's tears and rainbows and angel dust and you gasp in relief.

"Sweet Jesus," you choke out his earlier statement unintentionally. "What the hell was that?" You raise your head, and he's got his head bowed, bottom straps of his prosthetic unbuckled and he's smoking your cigarette from beneath it. Smoke filters from behind the shadows of the nose and eyes of his mask and into the air and slowly dissipates around you both. "And how are you doing it so well?"

"The first time around is absolutely horrible," he replies to you attentively. "It's all burnt and stuff. Drink some more water and you can try again if you want."

You do as he says, and shortly after you're trying again. It's nearly as rough as the first time around but you hold it in for long enough to do what it's supposed to and breathe it back out.

"Oh," You murmur. "Huh."

Larry chuckles at you from his place on the floor. Sal sends him a lighthearted glare before returning his attention to you. "See? It gets better." Empathically, he adds: "I don't want you doing that much this time, though. The nic sick sucks."

You didn't ask what nic sick was but it was safe to assume it was the effect of smoking past your tolerance and ultimately resulting in nausea.

You pass the cigarette back and forth—Sal taking a lot more hits than you, but that wasn't saying very much—until it was useless. Sal placed it beneath his shoe and put it out. He and Larry both dispose of the cigarettes and return to you, matching your position on the floor.

"So, how was it?" Larry asks you, amusedly curious.

You shrug and smile. "Wasn't bad after the first few hits. Couldn't have done it without Sal, actually." You then meet the boy in question's eyes, who meets yours back steadily, But after a moment, he looks to the floor and sharply exhales through his nose, reciprocating your amusement.

Larry's face moves in your peripheral, and you look towards him, but his features are already changed to how they were before you'd looked away from him.

Huh.

By the time you'd all left the treehouse, the sun was falling behind the horizon, and the sky above you was becoming a darker blue.

The two boys walked you to your apartment.

"That was a lot of fun," you expressed warmly as you stood at your door. "Thanks for that."

"We'll see you at school tomorrow," Sal responded, shifting his weight.

"You can walk with us!" Larry grinned. "If you want."

You found yourself genuinely looking forward to it, agreeing on the suggestion, and turning to your door to open it and retreat inside. Before you could, you were stopped.

"Wait," Sal blurts. You turn, gazing at him curiously. The mask shifts on his face. "Make sure your hair doesn't smell like smoke. Mine always does. Shake it out before you go in."

You doubted your mother would even be awake, nonetheless notice your presence, but you appreciated his advice and followed it anyway. You passed your hands through your hair before shaking it for a moment. You flattened it as well as you could afterward and laughed at yourself.

"Think that was good?" You asked, flashing your teeth.

Larry raised his eyebrows, thoroughly humored. "I think so. What do you think, Sal?"

Sal's silent for a moment, like he's forgotten he's there. Just staring at you.

"Sal?'

He blinks, shaken from his reverie. He quickly recovers, as it'd never happened. "Oh. Yeah," he states, moving to turn around and leave. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

With that, Sal's down the hall and making haste toward the elevator.

Larry exchanges a glance with you and laughs, bids you goodbye with a wave, and departs from you by following after his blue-haired friend.

You think nothing of Sal's quick departure, grin as you think of the fun day you'd had, and enter your quiet apartment.

#sally face #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

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tallmantall · 8 months

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#JamesDonaldson On #MentalHealth – How To Help Your #Daughter Have A Healthy #BodyImage

It’s not easy, given the pressure to be super-thin and sexy, too Photo by Victoria Rain on Pexels.com Writer: Gail Saltz, MD Clinical Expert: Gail Saltz, MD - 1. Sympathize - 2. Model body comfort - 3. Enlist #Dad - 4. Avoid sexualizing - 5. Build resilience - 6. Move that body - 7. Set limits on clothing (or lack of same) Girls coming of age in the 21st century have more opportunities than any of the generations that preceded them. But they also face an array of pressures that are unprecedented. Girls are expected to become corporate executives and brain surgeons and Supreme Court justices, but they’re also expected to be beautiful and sexy — more so than ever before. Which is why raising healthy, happy daughters has become more challenging, not less. As #parents, we know that nurturing a positive #bodyimage is crucial to helping our daughters become healthy, well-rounded #adults. But our society seems to be fixated, more than ever, on youth and beauty. And beauty is, more than ever, defined as small. Or, to be more precise, small-plus-hot — so that even someone who’s stunningly thin can feel insecure if she’s not also well endowed where it counts. I’m not just talking about girls who develop #eatingdisorders, which involve a seriously distorted #bodyimage. I’m talking about a much larger group of girls who feel they can’t be happy and accepted because, while they may have straight A’s in school or terrific talents, they don’t think they have the bodies they’re “supposed to” have. Unfortunately, what they feel they are “supposed to” have is an ideal they see on television and on #socialmedia (retouched and filtered!) that isn’t attainable by 90% of #women. Of course there are some #girls who — because they’re genetically endowed or because they’re starving themselves — do achieve this super-thin-plus-super-sexy body. But for most of our daughters it’s not a realistic or desirable goal. #Girls can come to see themselves as a collection of body parts—breasts, lips, legs, thighs, butt—which they judge harshly. And, of course, none of it relates to anything about who they are on the inside and what they do. So what is a healthy #bodyimage, and how can we nurture one in our daughters? What we want for them is part realism — a reasonable vision of what’s an attractive and healthy body. And it’s part perspective — a sense that what they look like is just one aspect, and not an overwhelmingly important one, of who they are and what they have to offer as people. #James Donaldson notes:Welcome to the “next chapter” of my life… being a voice and an advocate for #mentalhealthawarenessandsuicideprevention, especially pertaining to our younger generation of students and student-athletes.Getting men to speak up and reach out for help and assistance is one of my passions. Us men need to not suffer in silence or drown our sorrows in alcohol, hang out at bars and strip joints, or get involved with drug use.Having gone through a recent bout of #depression and #suicidalthoughts myself, I realize now, that I can make a huge difference in the lives of so many by sharing my story, and by sharing various resources I come across as I work in this space. #http://bit.ly/JamesMentalHealthArticleFind out more about the work I do on my 501c3 non-profit foundationwebsite www.yourgiftoflife.org Order your copy of James Donaldson's latest book,#CelebratingYourGiftofLife: From The Verge of Suicide to a Life of Purpose and Joy www.celebratingyourgiftoflife.com To put it simply: They need to feel okay about how they look, and not let their looks dominate their sense of #self-worth. How do we get there? It doesn’t work to try to pretend the pressure to be model-thin and drop-dead gorgeous doesn’t exist, or lecture them on how appearance has nothing to do with who they are. They’ll just conclude that you’re completely out of touch. So what to do? 1. Sympathize What is effective is to listen to your daughter’s concerns, acknowledge the reality of her feelings, and let her know that you’ve wrestled with feelings about your less-than-perfect body, too — “Yeah, look, I was never in love with my thighs.” You want to convey, implicitly or explicitly, that while you’ve suffered, too, it didn’t take over your life, or get in the way of your being who you wanted to be, or doing what you wanted to do. 2. Model body comfort Which means, of course, that if you are very, very wrapped up in #anxiety about your own body, it is likely to rub off on your daughter. Girls get much of how they feel about these things from their mothers: If Mom is complaining every time she puts on a piece of clothing that she looks fat, or wondering out loud about which outfit looks sexier, that’s what the daughter is going to absorb. Mothers need to model, to some degree, body comfort, acceptance, and appreciation for what their bodies allow them to do. This extends to eating—meal times should be about enjoyment, about family time, about nutrition. You can encourage your daughter to eat healthy and be positive about being healthy, but if you talk about how “bad” you’ve been if you eat a cupcake, or declare, “Okay, this is going straight to my butt!”— and I hear women say that all the time — it’s not going to help. 3. Enlist Dad Girls need to hear positive feedback from their fathers, not only for looking beautiful but for other attributes that they appreciate. And girls need to hear dads supporting their wives, too, for all that they are. Of course, fathers have a very difficult line to walk at this age, when daughters are developing, and they need to sort of to step back at the same time that they’re being encouraging. So I don’t want to say that any of this is easy. It’s hard, but it most certainly can be done. 4. Avoid sexualizing Another part of working for a positive body image — and a positive overall image, frankly — is shielding your girls for as long as you can from the most sexualized and body-obsessed parts of pop culture. That includes everything from little girls being sold underwear that says “juicy” on the bottom to watching the Kardashians on TV, shows that are all about your booty, or what you injected into your lips, or what guy you were able to get because of how sexy you look. I’m not saying “heaven forbid they turn on the Disney Channel,” but if they’re going to watch this stuff, which their friends are watching, you should watch it with them, and let them know how silly — if not sad — it is. “Gosh, this #woman is really obsessed with her behind, or her hair, or whatever. Isn’t that sad? What about her brain?” 5. Build resilience Life throws everybody curveballs, and sometimes the curveball is in the arena of appearance. Most of us are not going to love every single thing we’ve got, but we deal with it (and not, in most cases, with plastic surgery, at least until your daughter reaches #adulthood and can decide for herself). You can help by being sympathetic, but also confident that whatever she doesn’t like about herself is not insurmountable. You want her to incorporate both of those things in her thinking: “Oh, gosh, this tough. This isn’t fun.” But also “I’m strong and I will figure out a way to cope with this.” 6. Move that body Since you don’t want your daughter to think of her body principally as a way to attract guys, enjoyable physical activity is key. You want to help her experiment and try different kinds of sports, different kinds of activities, so she can find something that resonates for her, but also so she can recognize that having some stamina and some muscle makes your body a lot more enjoyable, not just because of how it looks but because of how it feels. Exercise is also wonderful for mood, wonderful for blowing off #stress and #anxiety. So being in a habit of some sort of exercise is a great thing to set up for your #child for life, really. It’s a life skill. For some kids it will be harder because they won’t be naturally athletic, or they don’t like activity as much. But they don’t have to adore it. #Kids are expected to do other things they don’t adore, from taking out the garbage to calculus homework. A certain amount of activity should be a health thing; it’s not optional. But you need to be a model for that too. If you include your #kid in activities with you, or if you at least model, “I’m going to go to the gym,” or “I’m going to take a run,” you are showing them an essential part of living. 7. Set limits on clothing (or lack of same) Of course you want to encourage your #daughter’s self-expression, but I think many #parents are erring too far in the direction of letting young #girls dress provocatively. The problem is that it sends a message the #girls might not even intend — and gets them into sexual situations much earlier than they are ready for. I’m not saying you have to make your daughter dress like a nun, but frankly she just shouldn’t be dressing sexy for #school. When a girl gets a lot of attention for being hot, what she’s processing is that she’s being valued for how big her boobs are, or how long her legs are. So who cares then if I worked hard and really learned a lot in math? I believe in #women enjoying their sexuality. But until at least the second half of #highschool, #girls aren’t ready. And they need to be focused on other things. So you want to temper the sexualized message they’re getting from peers and pop culture. So promoting a healthy #bodyimage means helping your daughter feel beautiful overall—the whole person that she is—and at the same time deemphasizing beauty and sexuality as the focus of her identity. #Girls who have confidence, who are sure of themselves as people, not as sexual objects, are not only likely to wait longer to have sex, but are more able to hold their own in the mean-girl environment they, unfortunately, need to survive and thrive in. Photo by Victoria Rain on Pexels.com Read the full article

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writing-in-april · 3 years

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Spooks

Raymond Wadsworth X Female Reader

Summary: Raymond starts sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong at the next haunting he’s investigating.

A/N: Hey heyyy- here’s my second fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April 2021!!! I had this spur of the moment idea in the middle of the night and ended up writing a pretty long fic for it (at least long for me lol) I had a lot of fun writing it and really liked the idea- I hope you all enjoy it too! Drop something in my ask box here if you’d like!! I’m always looking for feedback and my requests are open as well! Thanks for reading!!!

Warnings: 18+, Ghosts & poltergeists, Smut, Sub Raymond, Unprotected sex, Sex in a car, Slight cum play

Main Masterlist Word count: 3.2k

Your job description wasn’t an easy one to describe, you could say Mulder and Scully would be the most accurate equivalent. Though as with all tv shows it was portrayed with a set of rose tinted glasses, giving a filter to any realities you faced on the job.

You and your department preferred to call yourselves spooks, truthfully only because the pun was funny. In reality your 8 person department were called agents just like the rest of the FBI, you guys were just more secretive than the others.

Most of the time you ended up getting handed the short straw when getting new cases as you were still the newest on the team, despite being there for several years already. Unlike most professionals in law enforcement you did not have a partner, it only slowed you down. Every place that you were scheduled to decontaminate was an in and out procedure streamlined for effectiveness, adding another body to be hyper vigilant about was a hassle. You operated alone.

Any type of paranormal phenomena that you could think of was thrown in front of you. In your opinion the cases you had the most fun on were the ones that dealt with aliens, though some ghosts could be fun on occasion. The most recent case I had to deal with was a nasty poltergeist, the worst type of ghost. They always wreaked the most havoc on whatever house or place they occupied.

The family in this house had moved out a while ago, the request to decontaminate the home had been sitting on one of your supervisors for a while. It was an old house, built around the late 1800s. Old enough that it had a bunch of unnecessary rooms, like the parlor room that you found yourself trapped in.

And, you weren’t on your own either. Trapped with you was a man with fluffy brown hair flying in any direction, his eyes a darker shade of brown that were filled with fear- yet also curiosity. He was wearing a blue romper, it looked good on him, from what you had seen while you were frantic. But, you highly doubted that it would be effective clothes for a paranormal investigation, maybe he had just stumbled across this place out of curiosity. Either that or he was the type of an inexperienced investigator who had probably had one encounter with a ghost. It did not change that he was cute though.

“I’m a paranormal investigator- uhh technically a supernatural detective! My name’s Raymond! Who are you?!” He sputtered out, ranting probably to try to push aside his fear. You were standing side by side holding the double doors of the entrance to the parlor room, pushing them down to prevent the poltergeist from ramming it down and attacking us.

“Not important!” You snapped back at him, throwing a glare at him. Even if it wasn’t such a tense situation, you weren’t supposed to give away your identity or your job description to just anyone.

With another gasping breath he asked another question, even though you hadn’t answered his first inquiry, “I came with a girl, her name’s Becca- did you see her?”

This one you would bother to answer as he was quite obviously worried about the well being of his companion, “I may have seen her speed away in a red car after she was thrown out of the house. Was that your car she took?”

Not that you really cared all that much, but if he had been stripped of his transportation by his partner you’d have to take him in your own car. Not that you really wanted to, you still would have to help him even though he was seriously hindering your decontamination. “No, I came in my own car.” He answered which made you breathe a sigh of relief, you wouldn’t have to deal with another issue after you escaped, “I don’t blame her honestly, if I could leave I would.”

You were about to answer when your pressure on the doors wasn’t enough, making you both stumble forward. When you stumbled forward your keys, along with your badge, fell out of your pocket. Your badge flipped open front and center to reveal your name, plus the exact agency you worked for in a bold logo.

“You’re an FBI agent?!” You could not confirm or deny what he had asked, you were firmly focused on scrambling to get your things and avoid the ghost that was now throwing furniture at the two of you.

When Raymond finally took notice of the being that was pelting heavy objects around you, a ghostly shape in the form of a woman with a tortured look on her face, he screamed bloody murder. It was not unlike that of a scooby doo cartoon, him obviously resembling Shaggy almost perfectly. If only he had a dog to jump into his arms before he comically zoomed away while remarking “zoinks!”

His frazzled response to the ghosts giving a rather mediocre jump scare made you wonder whether he had the credentials to back up his job title as a paranormal investigator- or as he called it a supernatural detective. You racked your brain to try and recall anytime you had seen a Raymond or a Becca on the long lists of people that were being monitored for potential involvement, coming up with nothing. Well, maybe they were new, as his reaction seemed to indicate.

Your own reaction was stoic as usual, your nerves no longer jumped and your heart no longer quickened to the visage of a ghost trying to spook you. It was in no doubt for some arcane reason probably linked to revenge towards people that no longer existed. One would normally say don’t assume anything about people, that it might offend them to assume, but dead people in your view also had dead opinions- plus relying on precedent was usually a good option when a ghost might be trying to kill you. Despite the absence of fear from you there would be no call out of “Let’s split up gang!” either. It was you mostly not wanting to explain to your employer how you lost a citizen in the middle of this place and- besides that you couldn’t deny that you didn’t want him to die no matter how much undeniable extra trouble he was causing.

“Let’s go.” Your voice was firm, no discernible room for argument or questions.

Raymond somehow found a way to wriggle in to asking yet another question, “Where are we going?”

You yanked his hand out of the room that you think might’ve been a parlor room back in it’s day. You shouldn’t have bothered to answer as it would breed more questions from him, you already gave away too much about who you are and what you do. Any extra questions you answer from him was just creating a bigger breach in your security. Yet you found yourself justifying an answer, his eyes that were probably pulled into an adorable curious look laced with fear bored into the back of your skull as you dragged him out of the room and to the nearest exit. It was only a harmless question, it didn’t even have a satisfying answer, “Anywhere but here!”

Weaving my way through the house that was better characterized as a maze was hard to navigate through. At every turn some sort of iteration of the poltergeist tried to capture us, to pull us into death with it.

The two of us did eventually find the front door, only to find that we could not pull it open, the handle was stuck.

“Step back!” You shouted at Raymond to get him to move out of the way while you prepared to kick the door down. He skittered over to be right behind you, looking over his shoulder in paranoia. You used your right foot to kick the door, using all the leg strength you could muster. After three kicks, the door burst open, letting you both free.

Scurrying quickly to your government given work vehicle, looking back for a second to make sure that Raymond was following you. You couldn’t let a civilian die here, no matter how much of a nuisance he was, and he was cute of course.

Pulling out the last resort from the trunk of your car, gasoline, you then shoved a container of it to your unexpected companion.

“Cover as much of the house as you can!” He made no argument with your plan, running right behind you back up to the house to cover it all in gasoline. Once you had both covered it as much as possible you made sure Raymond was standing back before you lit your lighter and chucked it into the wood wet with the accelerant.

As soon as you could confirm with your eyes that the house had sparked with fire, you grabbed Raymond’s arm again to drag him to your car, not even caring about the one he had come here in. You basically threw yourself into the driver's seat, starting to drive away immediately after Raymond had sat down, before he had even shut the side door.

Adrenaline was coursing through your veins, causing your heart to pound hard enough that it felt like it could burst out of your chest. It was not unusual in your field of work, to feel death brush right by you.

“My car?!” Raymond screamed, his body turned so he was looking out of your back window.

“Sorry no time to go back! The U.S government will reimburse you for that- maybe…” You said quickly, while trying to step harder down on the gas pedal to speed away.

The house behind you was burning so bright from you could hear the crackling from the house turning to ash. You imagined that the flames and smoke were big enough to be seen for miles, considering how much accelerant you poured on it. So much for being subtle, your boss was definitely going to chew you out for that.

When you had gained a sufficient enough distance away from the flames you pulled off into a parking lot adjacent to a park. Pulling into the parking space fast you then hit the brakes hard, jostling you two a bit.

Taking a deep breath you slumped forward to rest your head on your steering wheel, just for a moment of relaxation.

“You know burning it down won’t necessarily get rid of it.” You only grunted in response to his matter of fact statement. Your lack of response seemed to make him even more anxious, tapping his fingers on any surface that was around him to preoccupy his mind while you took your breather. He tried to fill the silence that was making him uncomfortable, “So what do you actually do?”

You sighed deeply against the steering wheel one last time, then leaning off of it to sit back in the seat. You decided that you might as well give him a small morsel of information that may satiate his curiosity, “That’s highly classified, but you could probably figure it out.”

His insistence to bring up what your job is was making your insides twist with anxiety. You were already dreading what would happen when you got back to the office. It would be a lot of paperwork to explain everything that happened, plus you’d have to submit an application on behalf of Raymond to get his car reimbursed.

The adrenaline that had spiked in your veins born out of fear was still present. It was overwhelming, and you felt the need to use it for something different than wallowing in your fear.

You redirected your gaze to fixate on Raymond, who could surely help you redirect your adrenaline. He was an attractive man, who’s personality did help make him even more desirable. Even though he was a pain in your ass, he was a cute and funny one.

His own eyes were fixated on yours as well, with a different look than what you had seen earlier. His eyes were deepened with lust, not fear, though there was still an ounce of curiosity in them- probably still wondering who exactly I was.

Grabbing the hairs at the back of his neck you then pulled him forward to crush your lips onto his. He reciprocated immediately, though did not try to challenge your dominance over the kiss. He let you slip your tongue into his mouth, exploring him with diligence.

You wanted him closer to you, feeling every inch of him. So you swung your legs over his lap as best you could with the space you had to straddle him. When you did so you barely let his lips come off your own, too greedy to let them separate from yours.

A thought however was nagging you in the back of your head as you continued to melt yourself into the kiss, he had mentioned a companion that he had been worried about earlier. You did not want to step on any toes, nor endorse any type of cheating. You separated your lips from his own, even though you wanted nothing more than to envelop him in another kiss.

“This ok with you?” Your words were said right into his lips, mingling your breath with his, “You’re not with that Becca girl are you?”

“Not anymore- and yes I’m totally ok with this.” He confirmed before surging up to meet his lips with your own again. You wasted no time in starting to grind your hips onto his cock that was swiftly growing underneath his shorts. Just from grinding you could feel how large he was, even through a couple of layers.

He moved his hands to the button of your pants when you moved your lips to start nipping and sucking on his neck and jaw. You tried to kick off the articles of clothing on your lower half, panties included, without removing your lips from him. Unfortunately you had to do so because of the amount of space. You cursed under your breath, wishing that the government had paid to give you a larger vehicle.

You were already slick with arousal, also aided by sticking your fingers into his mouth to get them sufficiently wet. He bobbed his head up and down on them eagerly until you were satisfied. Removing them from his mouth you ran them up and down along your slit, getting you even more wet.

You guided his length to your entrance, not sinking down immediately. You undulated your hips so his length was coated with your arousal as well. When he bucked his hips in impatience you just pushed them down back into the seat. Then you leaned down to whisper into the shell of his ear to be patient- he’d get what he wanted.

“Fuck me.” Was all Raymond could muster up to whimper when you sunk down onto his cock, his head falling back to hit the headrest. You wasted no time in starting a fast pace, bouncing up and down on him with vigor. Raymond grabbed onto your hips when he couldn’t find anything else to hold onto, digging his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

His large cock bumped up against your cervix in the most pleasurable way possible as you swivel your hips over him. Your own head tilted back, your mouth opened wide to let out a loud moan when his cock hit a particularly pleasurable spot inside you. You also felt the need to hold onto something as your release began to build inside you, getting ready to snap. So you grabbed onto the best thing you could find, running your hands through his hair and pulling on his strands.

One of his hands then moved to toy with your clit,his movements were a bit fumbled, but it swiftly made your orgasm start to crest. You were almost disappointed about how quickly this was going to be over, you however couldn’t deny that it felt amazing even with the frantic pace. In the back of your mind you couldn’t help but imagine all the other things you could do to Raymond if you were given the chance.

You fell apart above him, your eyes rolling back into your head. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, and it felt good to have it redirected to a pleasurable experience instead of fear. You kept yourself impaled on his cock for a bit after your orgasm had finished, relishing at the feeling of him inside you.

Slipping out of him was a little bit awkward because of how cramped the space was. Once his cock slipped out of you, both of you groaning at the loss of him inside of you, you wrapped your hand around his length. You started to pump him slowly in your hands, taking your time compared to earlier. Your adrenaline had abated a bit and now you wanted to see how long you could drag this out, in case you never got the chance to again.

However, It still didn’t take much movement from your hands for him to get close, he was already close to the edge from being inside you. His hips bucked up into your hands a bit before he begged, “C-can you put- your hands- around my throat?”

“Should’ve known you’d be into that.” You snarked back a bit in response to his plea. Your tone had no sympathy for him, making him obviously think that you weren’t going to oblige him by the look in his eyes. That look of pure desperation in his eyes, with his kiss swollen lips, and his curls disheveled made you buckle. He groaned loudly when you put your free hand around his neck. You only applied a small amount of pressure, but that was all Raymond needed for him to cum all over your hand.

Once you had helped him ride out his own orgasm you removed your hand from his neck and his cock. You did need to clean up the hand that was covered in his thick ropes of cum, so you brought it up to your mouth to lick it clean.

“Fuck me…” Echoing his previous words, this time with an even bigger whimper. After you had cleaned yourself and him up enough to be decent you flung yourself back to sit in the driver’s seat again.

Raymond was silent for a minute, which seemed odd if you were going off of what little experience you had with him so far. Though maybe he was still going through his post orgasm relaxation just as you were. He then broke the silence, by asking the same question again, even though you had wanted to answer it just about 30 minutes ago. You’d bet money on the reason that he kept asking, being that each time that you answered you gave him a small hint, “Will you tell me now what you actually do?”

“Maybe- if you get to know me better.” You turned the key to start the engine again then asking with another hint as to what your job was, “Consider this your lucky day, you’ve got a spook as your chauffeur. Now, where next Raymond?”

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