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smashtbh · 2 years

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Your Biggest Fan

Billy Hargrove x M!reader | fem aligned + minors dni!

not my gif!

req: “ Helloo okaay so this might sound really stupid but can i request a 'Billy x male reader' where the reader is a soccer player and his friends/family don't really believe in him so they never come to his games but he starts to see his crush Billy show up, more and more in his games, and after a game he actually goes and congratulates to the reader and its just really fluffy? I know its kinda cheese af so if you don't like it or just don't want to write it just ignore it!!! “ — @russainweed

as a soccer player, this is absolutely not stupid. also, i may have switched it around to billy having a crush on the reader and the reader slowly developing one for billy — but nonetheless i believe it has the same idea you were going for.

Portuguese translation done by the great @neturnn 🫶🏽

CW: swearing, reader is a badass soccer player 🤞🏽, billy isn’t an asshole, reader has unsupportive parents, but he does have an extremely supportive billy.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x M!reader.

he/him pronouns are used to refer to the reader.

a/n: my first request omfg i hope i did you justice ✊🏽

word count: 2k something.

(keep in mind that for the purpose of this fic, billy isn’t a racist piece of shit. thank you!)

“You really aren’t coming?” Y/N asks his mother — who for some goddamn reason — refuses to go to his games. She usually drops him, but she’s being an asshole at the moment.

“No, Y/N. I’m busy.” She replies with the most monotone voice as she stares at the TV.

Y/N huffs a humorless laugh. “You know what? Never mind.” He throws his bag over his shoulders, “Since you’re just sooooo busy, I’m gonna take the car.” He grabs the keys off the wall without waiting for a reply.

He wants to say he’ll be back before 7 but he knows she wouldn’t even notice if he came home at all.

He throws himself into the car, shoving his bag with his equipment on the passenger seat. He sighs and rests his head against the steering wheel for a moment — trying not to punch the window at the thought that nobody will be at his game again. He’s used to it by now, but it would be really nice if someone actually came and watched him play.

He drives onto the road, and blasts the radio. He’s bopping his head to some Metallica as he turns into the school. He parks and he sees some of his teammates waiting with their families before they need to start warming up.

He stays in the car for a second, looking around the crowd and spotting Billy fucking Hargrove. He’s only heard bad things about him — and Y/N is a bit worried as to why he’s there. He really hopes none of his teammates end up getting a black eye by the end of the night.

Y/N gets out, grabbing his bag and heading towards the field. His coach and some teammates are already at the bench, so he greets them accordingly.

“If you want, you can have your family sit over here beside the bench — they can see a lot better over here.” His coach says, gesturing to the area he’s talking about.

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll let ‘em know.” Y/N mumbles as he puts on his cleats. He slides his shin guards into his thick socks and stands up. At this point he’s very close to kicking his coach in the nuts.

He’s not thinking about the fact that no one is there to watch him destroy this other team, he really isn’t. He doesn’t need his asshole of a mom or his useless dad to win the game.

Just as Y/N is getting into his position, he spots Billy again. He’s sitting on the hood of his Camaro, a cigarette in his mouth. He tries not to stare long, but he thinks Billy catches him because he sees a grin take over his face.

The whistle blows, and Y/N gets in the zone. When halftime rolls around, they’re up by 4 — the score being 6 - 2.

The game finishes and Hawkins’ High has won 8 - 2, Y/N scoring 6 of the goals. He talks with his team for a bit, then makes his way to the car.

Before getting in, he sees Billy. Who seems to be looking in his direction with a concentrated face. The weirdest part is, Billy hadn’t moved the whole game. Stayed sat atop his Camaro, and didn’t talk to anyone. Y/N doesn’t stay long though, he pulls out of the parking lot and heads back to his house.

Y/N has another game. That as usual his parents don’t want to go to.

He drives into the school again and parks, waiting in the car. He’s just chilling with the music and air conditioning on for a moment before he hears the familiar booming that is Billy’s Camaro.

Y/N tries to think of a reason as to why Billy would be here again. It doesn’t make any sense, because this really isn’t Billy’s crowd. A basketball game seems more fitting for him — since the soccer games have a quieter crowd, with no parties afterwards.

As Y/N gets out of the car, he realizes that Billy parked a lot closer than he thought he did. Y/N walks past Billy, flashing a small grin. It looks as if Billy was going to wave because he lifts his hand that isn’t holding his cigarette up — but he just moves to scratch at his chest.

While he’s on the field, he feels someone staring. He wants to say that it’s Billy, because god knows no one comes to watch for Y/N — but he really can’t pin point it because of how intense the game is.

But to no one’s surprise, Hawkins wins again. Y/N scoring 5 goals. He’s wiping his sweat as he walks to the car and is startled by a figure leaning against the driver’s side.

“You’re on my car.”

“I know that.”

Y/N sighs, he really doesn’t want any trouble. He’s just tired and he seriously wants to shower. “Look man, I don’t know what you want from me — “

“Who said I wanted anything?” Billy says, pushing himself off the car to walk towards to Y/N. “I just wanted to tell you that — “

“Did Greg do something again? I suggest you take that up with him and not me.” Y/N interrupts, adjusting his bag on his back.

Billy’s a lot closer now and he smiles and — woah this guy is a lot more attractive up close. “I’d understand the attitude if you guys lost, but you made that team eat your dust.”

Did Billy Hargrove just compliment him?

“I don’t think I follow..”

Billy laughs at that. “Didn’t think Mr. MVP would be so humble.” He throws an arm over Y/N’s shoulder, despite how sweaty he must be. “I’m tryna’ say that you killed it out there, dude.”

Y/N has to fight a smile at that. Despite being known at school for playing on the soccer team, nobody’s taken the time to actually go and tell him that he did a good job. “Thanks. Thank you. I tried.”

Billy pats Y/N’s back, moving to walk away. “Keep up the good work.”

“Wait — “ Y/N says without thinking and Billy turns around, “Did you come here for me?” There’s a pause. “Last time you were here you didn’t talk to anyone.”

“You watching me, creep?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

With the field lights glaring down on them, Y/N can see the red tint that comes up to Billy’s face. “Don’t let it get to your head, punk.” He smiles and struts towards his stupid Camaro.

Y/N smiles to himself. Maybe this Billy Hargrove isn’t so bad after all.

The next couple games go by quickly, faceless teams losing — Y/N doesn’t remember much, other than after the games. He and Billy would lean against his car and talk for as long as it takes for the field lights to turn off, leaving them laughing in the dark.

On the night of the championship game, Y/N’s mom drops him instead of having him take the car because she has a late meeting.

Y/N steps out of the car, and just as he does — hears that damn Camaro, he hates to admit that it’s become music to his ears.

Billy pulls into the parking spot while Y/N waits for him to get down. “Mommy dropped you today?” He says jokingly.

Y/N lightly punches his shoulder and hands him his bag to hold. He’s already put on all of his equipment, but he’s worried that it’ll rain tonight — he doesn’t want his bag to get soaked.

“Good luck, hot stuff. Not that you’ll need it.” Billy says and Y/N can’t help but mentally shut down at that for a minute, then he decides to fire back.

“If we win, you gotta drive me home.” Y/N winks, knowing damn well what the outcome of the game is going to be.

Billy laughs and the tips of his ears turn red. “Yeah — sure. Whatever.”

The game is nerve wracking for both teams, but Hawkins’ has the lead in the first half. Y/N sends glances towards Billy, smiling at him every once in a while.

Towards the second half though, the opposing team catches up. The score is 4 - 4, Y/N having made 2 of the goals. There’s about 10 minutes on the clock left, and it starts to rain, hard.

It’s a lot harder to play with the weather like this. The two teams struggle to get the ball under control. Despite this, Y/N is able to dribble the ball. He’s close to the goal and is about to shoot before some dude comes and rams into him — effectively tripping him in the penalty box.

There’s an “ooooo” that is heard through the hard rain and the ref blows the whistle. Y/N gets up, and realizes that it’s time for him to take the penalty kick.

He lines up the ball with the dot, as the goalie bends his knees and gets into his position. The ref tells the team that this is the last play.

Y/N hops up and down for a bit, trying to conjure the energy he needs for this shot. The goalie seems nervous, especially because of the rain, but it’s bad for both of them.

A deep breath in, a deep breath out, a running start, a well calculated kick — and Hawkins’ High are the champs.

The ref blows the whistle and there’s screaming, car horns beeping, and banging from the bleachers. Y/N drowns everything out as his team hoists him up in the air.

A little later, the rain has calmed down. Y/N walks towards the direction of Billy’s car, but nearly shits himself when it isn’t there.

He jogs a little bit to make sure it really isn’t, when suddenly a loud honk came from behind him. “Jesus fuck — “ Y/N turns around and flips the bird aggressively at Billy.

“Where’d you go?” Y/N asks as he opens the passenger side door.

“To find someone.” Billy says nonchalantly. He isn’t as cheery as he normally would be — Y/N thought he would be happy that his team won.

Y/N stares at him. “Who?”

“Number twenty-six.” Billy mumbles around a cigarette, bringing the lighter to his lips. Y/N stares for a bit longer before it clicks.

“You — dude, did you beat him up?” Y/N looks around for the other team, sighing when he sees that they’ve already left. “Falling is part of the game, Billy.”

Billy turns to look at him. “He tackled you.” He takes a long puff from the cigarette. “I just told him to fuck off, I didn’t touch ‘em.”

Y/N groans at that, rolling his eyes. “I don’t need your protection, honey.” He pulls his jersey over his head, dumping it on top of the Camaro.

Billy glances towards him and turns into a tomato. “Did — did you bring extra clothes?”

“No,” Y/N shakes the rain out of his hair, “Just thought I’d go shirtless.”

It looks as if Billy can’t decide whether or not to look in Y/N’s direction. Glancing at him constantly, but also trying to distract himself with the cigarette.

Y/N laughs. “C’mon, take me home.”

The car ride there was energetic. Filled with laughter and praise. “I mean seriously — you should play for a national team or something.”

“I would but uh — my parents don’t care much for my soccer shit.” Y/N stares out the window. “No biggie though, I’m cool with just playing for Hawkins.”

Billy slows the car down a bit, which is surprising considering he’s broken at least 30 street laws in the span of 6 minutes. “You mean, they don’t care for your talent?”

Y/N shrugs. “Nah.” He turns to Billy, “Like I said though, I don’t really care.”

“Is that why I never see them at your games?”

“What?”

“Your parents.”

Y/N stares ahead of them. “Yeah. They’re busy.”

The car goes quiet. Billy’s going 15 in a 30. “You know,” Billy turns to him. “I think that you’re an amazing player and — person.”

“Yeah?” Y/N grins, “You think so?”

Billy slows to a stop. “Y/N, you’re — cool as hell.” Y/N starts laughing. “No — I’m serious, like — you’re the shit.”

Billy turns to him fully. “I’m sorry that your parents are fucking dickheads, and can’t see how talented, amazing, and handsom — awesome, their kid is.”

Y/N sighs a bit. “Thank you, Billy.” He looks out the window once more. “My house is actually right here.”

He opens the door and hops out, cringing at the wet seat. “Sorry — didn’t realize how sweaty I was.”

Billy glances at it and waves a hand. “It’s fine.” He gestures to Y/N’s body, “It was worth the view.”

Y/N laughs and grabs his bag. “You’re adorable, Hargrove.” He closes the door.

The window rolls down, “I’ll see you later, champ.” Billy blows him a kiss, and Y/N catches it and throws it in the trash bin on the lawn.

Billy fakes an offended look and flips him the bird as he speeds off.

Guess Y/N’s got himself a fan.

likes, reblogs, & comments are appreciated!

#stranger things #stranger things x male reader #billy hargrove x male reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #male reader #gay billy hargrove

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aroaceconfessions · 1 year

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[CW: Aphobia]

It kinda sucks being aroace since it's hard to explain it to people. It would be easier coming out as gay, bi, trans or anything else. To have to explain to allos that you just don't feel romantic and sexual attraction is so difficult. They understand anything else but you having a lack of attraction. Not to say that other people have an easier time or that anybody else can't have unsupporting friends and family, but still. When you tell people you don't feel something as seemingly universal as sexual or romantic attraction, they'll assume something is wrong with you or that you haven't found the right person yet. That you have trauma and refuse to acknowledge it. That you're actually just normal and just want to apply labels to yourself for attention. It sucks. Being aro or ace feels like such a foreign concept to allo people and a lot of the time they'll just make up reasons to explain why you, somebody entirely different from them, are actually not that.

Submitted April 8, 2023

#aromantic #asexual #aroace #aspec #aro #ace #arospec #acespec #arose #aphobia #acephobia #arophobia #invalidation #coming out

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buckyysdoll · 8 months

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hi, could you write an enemies to lovers with Nesta?

— 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 —

જ⁀➴ — • summary: when you’re broken and wounded, you end up at the doorstep of the one person you shouldn’t want; • pairing: nesta archeron x f!reader (hope this is okay !) ; • a/n: i’m sorry this is so so late ! i really do hope it’s okay though <3 ; • cw: reference to domestic abuse, unsupportive family (slight anti ic, but just for this fic — i adore all of them and always will, sorry), vague ref to suicide but not really meant; angst with hopeful ending <33

MAIN MASTERLIST

With every step down the streets of velars, the pounding in your head only heightened. Slick drops of blood fell and beaded at the cut on your lip, and your eyes burned with unshed tears.

It was raining, though, which helped; it cooled off your skin that was fever pitched, burning. Each pelt of the cold, hard storm, the whip of wind at your cheeks, was at least some distraction.

A way for you to decidedly not think about the male who'd just come to the town house; the male who your brother had sworn you to marry, and of whom behind closed doors sure had a cruel temper.

Surely all of them knew.

But if they did, they didn't say anything; Cassian's fury was a quiet, deadly thing. Azriel of course knew every slight secret but was still ultimately powerless against his high lord. Noble as he was, Rhysand's will would be final; it was his way, or no way at all.

Even Mor, your best friend, even Feyre — both knew this pain for themselves, yet did nothing. For what was best for velaris still had to come first: you knew it, would honour it, too.

Even if bruises were already forming on your albeit quick-healing skin; even if hand marks printed your wrists and your cut lip was split and still bleeding on down.

There was only one person in the world who you just wished to talk to, but you knew that you couldn't. She was the very same one whose silence you would rather live in, beyond anyone's voice.

She was your call to rest, and the fire you breathed in, the woman you loved —

Or rather, "female" now, you supposed. Everything had changed since that day by the river.

That look in her eye, like she knew ... You shook off the thoughts of her, just like always. And, just like always, they stayed. There truly was no point in resisting her pull

On your way through the city, guideless, not knowing where to go or what even to think, you passed such warmth on the faces of your own brother's people, who had become something like your people, too.

Mothers cracked worn, broken smiles at their babes but they did it, the joy was still there underneath. And though so quiet, their children still laughed, still found humour and joy in your grey, broken world.

It was for each of those faces that you stuck by your choice.

The bargain tattoo on your lower arm burned.

Further down you walked through each great, twisting street, the Rainbow a ribbon at your side. You'd not said a word to the others about where you had gone, having stormed out of the house in a fury; tears had threatened and been so damn close, with your brother and your family only in the next room.

But could they really be family if they'd heard the crack, all the shouts, and did nothing? Could they still be those people you loved if they hadn't tried to stop you, hadn't asked you to stay?

You didn't know where you were heading until you'd already come to the street where she lived. Though your mind was unwilling, in denial, your feet knew the path; could've tracked any route to her blind.

A heartbeat, two, a thought of what am i doing, and then it was stairs, a great many. they wound on up, further still, to the floor of her room.

To your sweet light. Your Nesta.

You'd been in love with her since the day that you met all those months ago beyond the wall; seeing her stood there, chin up, eyes narrowed with disdain - it was her strength that had first pulled you in.

And just as for then, for every day since, there was that same unyielding steel. The will and the fire just beneath her skin that had pulled you to her as though by no conscious choice.

She had been the woman that you'd have got down on your knees for, and would've yielded to without question. Now she was the female who did nothing but show how much she despised you - coating her words with venom and striking them true in the places only she knew would hurt.

Still, she was your mate, and she knew it. Just like you did.

Neither one of you'd say it.

You were two sides of the same, lost coin, at the mercy of the males who thought they knew for best. You knew that your endings were not destined to be happy, but more so, that they certainly could not entwine.

Standing just by her door, you could hear the sound of her breathing from here. By the soft, quiet tone, she stood just on the other side of it, but she'd never seemed further.

She was destroying herself, and little did you know that you placed such a crucial role in it. Seeing you like this, and knowing your pain? She didn't know how to confront it.

Having to watch you wed yourself to a male, and an abuser no less? She would kill him, or herself.

But she, just like you, had been under Rhysand's thumb and couldn't bear to face the truth of her love. By her estimation, you were always better off far from her, and so the best way to ensure that? Hate and hate disguising love.

You raised your fist to knock but she was already there, door open, eyes wide. They scanned your face while she tried to school her features into indifference, but you knew each one of her tells by now.

Something within her was desperate, frantic, but she hid it well all things considered. To anyone who wasn't her mate, they would've seen just that old blank look. Disinterest.

But only by the pattern of your breathing, she had known that you waited outside. That you'd come to her door. Her nostrils flared, and that old, forced look of disdain at last took root.

Nesta. Your Nesta.

She said nothing, and just took in the sight: you stood on her doorstep, leaking blood from your cheek. Your lip, too, was split from a backhand and no quick healing power had yet sealed the hurt.

Your balance was unsteady on your feet, the weight of the day and your relief for her blinding. You tried not to show quite how you leant against the doorframe, how you relied on its support to hold yourself up while you couldn't.

But of course she knew.

And judging by her brief flash of panic, banked only by sheer will, and her need for indifference? Some part of her, however small, cared.

Tension thickened the air with that truth.

Nesta opened the door another fraction of an inch, thought better, so it seemed, and relented. Then she turned, her back to you, and walked back through her apartment, and you tracked her with your aching eyes as she moved. It was all you could do.

But the open door was an assumption, an aren't you coming? left unsaid. It was all she could give without saying the words, because the Mother above knew she could not speak it.

So you followed her, just like always, the shadow to her steps and too far from her warmth. You craved her closeness with every soft step and your hands clutched each other so they didn't reach out.

Immediately, as you entered the space, the scent of her filled up each small corner of you. Any prior void, she became; every empty second spent in this city, this life, without her — she healed with that scent alone.

It was piercing, just as she was — and you needed it to breathe. Needed her, your icy Nesta, your sweet warrior born of thorns.

She'd dressed simply today, as though planning nothing but to just stay in this room in the city. You still couldn't help but notice, though, how her dress was uncharacteristically rumpled, and her fine mass of golden-brown hair was sifting its soft journey out of her bun.

As ever, she was devastation; still, she was gorgeous beyond capable thought.

But it was almost as if she'd hurried to dress, though you couldn't think she'd want to impress you ... maybe she did have plans, and you were keeping her from them —

And then the thought hit.

So dazed had you been by her company, by her rare generosity — you hadn't even noticed. You’d been so wrapped up, absorbed in her, that you hadn't spied the rumpled, wrecked sheets of her bed. Hadn’t seen the creased shirt on the floor that was obviously male, and forgotten in haste.

You hadn't heard another heart beat through the wall, nor another's breathing through the thick door. You hadn't smelt the scent of sex so poignant in the air, and the smell of a male, his release.

But you did now, as you traced her outline with your eyes, watched her frame receding out of your view.

Something you couldn't quite bring yourself to name kindled sharp in your gut, and you could neither see nor think beyond it. You took one inhalation, two; Nesta was still out of the sight in the kitchen.

Another inhalation, exhalation — third, fourth. She was back in your sight and would not cow to shame.

In her hands she held loose articles — medical supplies, or what little she had of them. She wasted no time with words, wasn't idle; just silently gestured to her rumpled, strewn bed.

Still, by her guidance, you sat; perched just on the edge, honing focus elsewhere. So long as you tried not to breathe, then the fury in your bloodstream wouldn't burst past its banks.

It took great effort but the feral streak within you tempered down; with clenched teeth you held on firm to your composure. What little was left.

Whether she knew or not how you felt, she didn't show it in her expression. Her machinations were firm, and precise, as she put down a wet cloth, a clean strip of gauze.

But her hand where it met your skin was painstakingly gentle, more so than you'd hoped. Whatever tenderness this was given freely, it was more than your life's worth to question its taste.

Still, you noticed how shed hesitated, waited, read your expression before moving in. She was holding back from something, you knew — Nesta never had been one to have an open disposition.

And yet in truth? It was as though she couldn't bring herself to touch you like this, take your blood on her hands. As though it would be some kind of silent violation to the mutual denial of your bond.

As if. As if.

Nesta's fingers — her pointer and middle, from her right hand — ghosted the skin of your cheek, grazing so lightly above the gash that your partner-to-be had so callously left on your face.

You didn't miss the clench to her jaw or the sudden dark flare of something primal in her eyes; all of that steel, that white hot fire you adored, had your aching heart caught in your throat.

"Who did this to you?" Her words were flat, and you knew that she knew quite precisely who had. There was no inflection in her tone and it sounded out more as a statement than a question at all.

Nesta didn't meet your eyes as she took up the rag and raised it to the fresh, welling cut. It was you that couldn't seem to look anywhere else but at her, still just always at her.

You swallowed down your words but your voice dredged them straight back up, catching slightly on your speech as you aired them.

If being honest with yourself just this once, you only spoke at all just to hear her reply. It didn't seem to matter what she said only that it was her that said it, she who still wouldn't spare a glance for you now, and who hated you even in pain.

It took a bold moment, a sharp flare of pain as she focused her hands on her quick, dabbing movements, but you answered "He did" and then just like that — her banked fire stoked back to life.

Nesta made no response, but she winced almost imperceptibly to see that you'd flinched at her touch. From then on, her fingers stayed light as they worked.

The intention in her softness made you ache.

Indeed, your eyes were desperate as you watched her, and something settled deep in your chest much like reverence. If telling the truth? You’d admit that you'd housed that dull pain in some way since the moment you'd met; when you'd first seen the woman with steel in her spine that had not cowed to you, nor your kind.

And oh Mother, how you loved her.

Without warning, without any pretence, a low, destraught sound caught in her own throat — her only indication that the truth you'd revealed pulled out some truth from her that she'd fought to keep hidden.

You moved then, just without thinking, and touched your fingers to the inside of her wrist. She stilled beneath your hold and looked at you, allowed herself the privilege of this one light reprieve.

For there was something intimate in it, that touch — your pulse jumped beneath the surface of your skin. Every part of you was aware of her to the point of physical pain, and she was the same for you, you knew. The mating bond stretched between you, so taut and endless and yet not ripe to know.

Nesta's eyes met yours in a snap of clear focus, dipped down to your hand, came back up. Tears glistened in the deep grey hues of her eyes but you knew that she'd never admit it.

Fury and pain for you, blindness — it fully was a terror for her, feeling like this. It warred all at once within in her heart and right then? You didn't need to speak. Didn’t need to acknowledge anything at all.

You knew that there was so much that you both wished to say, and yet couldn't. Maybe not yet, or ever. But a soft hope ignited anyway that you wouldn't let die — hope that maybe one day. One day.

You loved Nesta Archeron too much to think beyond it, and what was more? The female before you loved you too. She loved you so much that she feared it every day, with every breath; but each time she tried to say it, show it, something in her died.

What she didn't know, though, was that you'd wait as long it took — centuries even — for her to be ready. And if she still wasn't? Then perhaps she could grow just to see you as a friend, if that was all you could be.

You were to wed another male for your court, but that didn't mean a thing to the love of a mate; perhaps years could pass and maybe then, maybe then, you could finally choose for yourselves.

For now though, there was enough in the silence of the room that you stayed still, only held on to her hand.

And the most remarkable part? She, your Nesta, held yours back.

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yandere-chocolate · 2 years

Text

Yandere Red Son x Male Reader ~(Romantic)~

TW/CW: horror, stalking, obsessive behavior(seriously, it’s much worse than my other works), bad parents, far too much use of the word “peasant”, Red Son & his superiority complex.

(I recommend you’re one of my…older readers.)

“I was trying to blow off some steam on the peasant of this city after another attempt to help my family only for them to laugh at me.

Well, excuse me for trying to give us power! I apologize for trying to save us from rotting away in unimportance! I’m just a useless child, aren’t I? I’M JUST A BURDEN, A MISTAKE, A—

But I snapped out of it. Damage was done to the city. Fire was everywhere. Noodle boy & his just as stupid friend group would be here soon. But I didn’t care at the time. Because the most beautiful man I had ever seen in my life was right in front of me. He was trembling in fear at the time, gripping my arm, attempting to divert my aim. There were some trembling, crying, injured people behind him. He was trying to protect them, wasn’t he?

Normally I would laugh at a peasant’s feeble attempt to beat me to save some people, but this man was no peasant. Not with beauty like that. Not with bravery like that.

The fireball that I had formed slipped through my hand, dying out. Me & the man stared at each other for what felt like forever. Oh, how I secretly wished that were true.

The noodle brat came by soon after & I had to leave the lovely man. I have to admit, I wasn’t very good at winning fights back then. I couldn’t be humiliated like that again—not when he was watching. I don’t know why. Something just flared up inside of me just by looking at the other man. It’s insane, looking back on it now.

That boy was stuck in my mind for days—weeks after our brief encounter. I couldn’t tell if it was love or lust, but regardless I daydreamed about meeting him again. My favorite scenario to imagine was defeating the noodle boy & the other man falling for me—praising me. I still think about that one sometimes.

He consumed my every thought. I barely even cared my parents unsupportive behavior because all I could think about was him.

I tried to draw him, write about him, anything to give me the feeling that he was there. It was pathetic, looking back on it. Desperate.

After about 3 weeks of self-restraint, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to see him again. I needed to know his name, his voice, his smell, his behavior, his—

I’m getting off track again.

I sent out a bull clone to hide among the peasants & fine that boy that I had met. The clone had a camera on them so I could see my love on a computer I had at home.

His name was (Y/n). What a pretty name~ I couldn’t help but smile in happiness & excitement. I hadn’t felt this happy in weeks. Months. Years.

I had the clone follow him home. I found his address by locating where the cone was. I smirked as I wrote it down in case I forgot. The bull clone came back & I could barely sleep that night, all I could do was think about his name. About his voice.

I visited this man for the weeks afterwards. It’s not stalking! I’m just making sure there’s no…competition. Unfortunately, there was.

I was watching my love, as I usually do when I need to cool off, when I saw a PEASANT GIRL SITTING WITH HIM!

She was laughing at his jokes, touching his chest & arms, & breathing hIS AIR!-

My hair & eyes lit on fire as I grit my teeth. How dare she?! Does she think she’s worthy of even being in my husband’s? Future husband—but still a soon-to-be member of the great bull family! SHE SHOULD BEING BOWING AT HIS FEET, BOWING AT MY FEET FOR FLIRTING WITH MY LOVE!

I broke the camera. The flames in my hair and eyes quickly went out as I stared blankly at the camera. Some of the best photos I had taken of my darling were on there. The rage quickly set back in as I glared at the woman, still joking with (Y/n). Oh, she’s so dead!”

The writing ends here, with the exception of jagged scribbles of incoherent praises across the pages. Yet, despite your horror, you couldn’t stop staring. You should be completely frozen in fear, you felt frozen in fear, yet your hands still turned the pages of the small notebook, reading every. Single. Word.

“I bet you’re reading this right now, darling. I know you get home around ▇▇, but you only go up to your room around ▆▆ after you do your chores & watch a little TV. I personal hate the Monkie King show, but I’ll allow you to watch it after we get married. By the time your reading this part of the story, if my calculations are correct (which they always are), I’m already right behind you or coming upstairs—”

You finally stopped reading the horrific notebook & attempted to throw it across the room only for someone to catch it. You recognized them as Red Son from the Bull family. He was a villain that seemed to be defeated easily by MK. But MK isn’t here. It’s just you; a normal human vs. Him; the son of a very powerful & has pyrokinetic powers.

“Hey! Don’t throw my book!” Red yelled, proceeded to brush off imaginary dust or dirt of it. “It’s full of my favorite memories…~” yeah, like you sleeping.

You stood there, just hoping the son of DBK would simply spare you & walk away. Oh, but you knew that would be almost impossible to achieve.

Suddenly, Red Son was so much closer, staring at you with a loving gaze. Were you zoned out long enough for him to get this close?

He cupped your cheek & all you could do was stand still; frozen. He manipulated your head to face him.

“You look so pretty…darling…” his gaze trailed down to your lips. His breathing got ever so slightly heavier but his hair slowly began to move, eventually turning into a slow, graceful fire. Not a normal fire, no. A strange pinkish-magenta fire, with lifting hearts forming from the sparks. You could swear that you could see his pupils become hearts. He began leaning closer until he seemed to snap out of whatever lovesick trance he was in because his hair returned back to normal & so did his eyes.

“I should take you home. Right?… I mean, I have dated before, I’m Red Son! Son of the great demon bull king! But…” he looked off, nervous. “Yeah! You’re coming home with me!” He picked you up & carried you off, but you were in so much confusion & shock that you just…stayed there.

“You should feel very lucky! Not everyone gets the honor of getting married to a member of the demon bull family! I can’t wait to crush that noodle boy with you! You can test my machines! We can run the barbecue stand together! But we won’t serve these peasants! If they complain, we can just ignore them! I mean, it’s barbecue! What kind of—”

He droned on. You just felt…tired. You closed your eyes & sunk into his chest. You didn’t question why it warmed up when you did that because all the warmth did was pull you further into sleep.

Red Son kept on walking, despite his flushed face. He wasn’t used to this much affection. Or, much affection at all. I mean, all you did was lay your head on his chest.

Still, that small act only convinced him more that you two were meant to be. But now, a part of him thinks you love him just as much as he obsesses over you.

(That’s it. Btw, this is more so S1 & Revenge of the Spider Queen Red Son. Idk, I love this guy & naturally I wrote something about him because of that. Hope you enjoyed despite the…dark themes.)

#yanderecore #yandere #yandere blog #yandere x reader #yandere monkie kid #yandere red son #yandere demon #yandere x male reader #male reader #i keep forgetting to post this

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nandysparadox · 9 months

Text

strawberry ice cream and rescue missions

Pairing: romantic royality; mentioned brotherly moxiety and platonic logicality

Word count: 2311

cw: emotional hurt/comfort; light angst; insecurity; overworking; mentioned unsupportive parents

Summary:

Roman is worried he'll never make it onto stage after all. Patton is worried about his next test.

Two times Patton and Roman comforted each other

---

fic for day 2 of @royalityweek!! ill have to admit i may have strayed from the prompt a little bit, but im happy with how this turned out ❤️🩵😊 this is part of the same verse as my previous royality week fics, but can be read separately (ill make a masterpost soon!)

huge thanks to @ivaryn0 for beta-reading!

prompt: family/friendship

Hmm. Should he get more chocolate? Patton wondered, squinting at the lines of chocolate bars that filled the shelves in the sweets aisle. He couldn’t remember if there was still some in the fridge…

Well, he ate chocolate fast, might as well. He picked up a few kit-kats and dropped them in the basket when a ring sounded from his phone. He checked the screen, switching to the messaging app immediately when he saw it was Roman.

just got off work

do you wanna come over?

He blinked. Roman could be spontaneous with plans sometimes, but generally, Patton was the one to host the spur-of-the-moment movie nights between the two of them.

In any case, it's not like he was planning to do anything other than scroll on his phone after he got home. Hanging out with Roman would definitely be a plus.

sure sweetie!😊💖 im at the grocery store rn, do you want me to pick up something for u??

The typing bubble popped up, and it stayed there for about a minute. Patton tilted his head.

ice cream

…

please

Oh. Oh, something was wrong for sure.

A good ol’ ice cream tub was Roman’s go-to when he was feeling down, and that’d certainly explain why he asked to hang out out of nowhere. He couldn’t tell exactly what happened, nothing good for sure, but now he was on a mission.

Operation “cheer up boyfriend” initiated!

Luckily, the ice cream aisle was close to the checkout counter. Patton rummaged around the freezer for strawberry cheesecake, Roman’s favorite, and got three pints for good measure. Of course, making sure to get a bottle of chocolate syrup while in line. After that, it was just a matter of driving to Roman’s apartment.

He might’ve rushed up the stairs a bit too much and his knees definitely paid the price, but darn it he was worried!

He double-checked the apartment number and moved to open the door. Faint music came from behind it, Taylor Swift’s…All Too Well? Oh boy.

“I brought the ice cream, Ro!” Patton said as he entered. Immediately, his eyes flitted to Roman in the middle of the couch. Blankets swaddled him to the point that Patton could barely make out his face. But as he got closer, he saw the tear tracks that trailed down to his chin.

“Oh love,” Patton said, feeling his heart ache at the sight. “Hold on, let me grab you a spoon, ok?”

By the time he was back, Roman hadn’t moved an inch. Patton sat next to him, cracking open the ice cream and plopping the spoon into it.

Roman then proceeded to take the pint and eat it with a ferocity that was kind of impressive.

“…Thanks,” Roman muttered.

“Of course, Ro,” Patton smiled, putting a hand on Roman’s knee, in what he hoped to be a comforting way. “Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, it’s— it’s dumb,” Roman replied, wrapping his arms around his middle. “I’m being dramatic.”

“It’s not dumb, Ro, not if it’s upsetting you.”

Roman sighed. “The cast list for this season’s show came out.”

“Oh, sweetie…”

“Ensemble. Again!” Roman cried, doing mock jazz hands. “I know, I know, I should be grateful I’m in the show at all, and ensemble’s no easy feat of course, but I just thought…”

Roman hunched his shoulders up and let his hands fall into his lap.

“I thought this was going to be the time.”

“I’m so sorry you didn’t get the part you wanted, honey,” Patton said, leaning into Roman’s side. “I’m sure you did your best.”

“I’m starting to think my best just isn’t enough,” Roman let out a hollow laugh. “You know, every time, I tell myself it’s gonna happen, this is gonna be my big break… Maybe it’s just never gonna happen.”

Patton watched helplessly as Roman wound a hand into his hair, pulling. His face twisted in misery. Patton couldn’t bear to see it, the hope crumbling from Roman’s eyes.

“Maybe I’m just gonna be serving milkshakes and cheesecake in a 50s-themed diner for the rest of my life,” he said, bitter. “Great, my parents were right. I’ll never be anyone at all.”

“Don’t say that, Roman,” Patton said firmly. He surprised himself with the sternness in his voice, but he stood by it — he wouldn’t just let Roman be so cruel to himself. “They’re wrong. Of course you’re enough, honey, please don’t let others convince you you’re not, be it your parents or anyone else.”

Roman hummed and something in Patton’s chest twisted at the disbelief in his eyes.

“Ro, listen to me,” Patton pleaded, taking Roman’s hands and squeezing them. “You’re incredible. You’re passionate, and witty, and creative, and dazzling, and none of that hinges on you having the lead role in a show. It doesn’t matter if you’re a waiter, or a superstar, you don't need to measure up to anyone's idea of success.”

Patton smiled, letting go of Roman’s hands to cup his face and brush his thumb across the high of his cheekbone. “You're you. That's enough.” He paused, touching his forehead to Roman's. “You know I love you, right?”

Roman went silent, and with each second that passed Patton got more worried he might’ve said the wrong thing. But then, all of a sudden, he wrapped Patton in a tight hug.

“I love you too,” replied Roman, a quiet chuckle on his lips. Patton hugged him back, crossing his arms over Roman’s back.

When they finally pulled apart, Roman wiped at his eyes, smiling. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

“Maybe not always,” Patton shrugged. “But I’m sure good at turning around gloomy days! How about I pick up more ice cream and we put on some Disney movies?”

Roman laughed in response, and Patton was so glad to hear it.

Roman sighed as he leaned his forehead against the door, raising his fist to knock for about the third time. Of course, getting into Patton’s apartment hadn’t been the hard part — his roommate was just as worried about him as Roman himself.

The real problem would be getting him to actually leave his desk and put a pause on studying.

“I’m taking a break soon, Logan, don’t worry!” Soon came Patton’s cheerful voice through the door. By the unprompted nature of the comment, he must’ve repeated this line many times before and Roman would guess he’d actually done as he said about… zero of them. “Do you need anything?”

Other options exhausted, Roman supposed he’d just have to go for it.

“Only for you to emerge from your fortress of darkness, my dear,” he said, opening the door.

Fortress of darkness indeed. The laptop screen, about the only source of light in the room, cast a blue tint on the books and papers thrown around the desk. Mugs and cups piled around a forgotten corner of the nightstand. At least the window was open, so Patton must’ve gotten some sunlight in the afternoon.

“…Roman?” Patton squinted at him and tilted his head, swiveling his chair around to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on a mission, darling,” Roman declared, bowing. Hopefully, his dramatics would help win Patton over. “ Recruited by your dearest brother himself… and your roomie was kind enough to let me in.”

“Logan,” Patton grumbled, then shot Roman a look of disbelief, eyebrows raised. “Hold on, Virgil sent you?”

Roman strode over to him, tilting Patton’s chin up and gently brushing his raven hair out of his glasses. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and he looked as if he might fall over with a single touch. Roman bit his lip, when had Patton last slept? That wasn’t like him — he barely stayed up late, even on weekends.

“Darling, you haven’t texted your brother in three days. And you know how he gets when he’s worried.” Roman fake shivered, pulling a little giggle out of the other. “When I asked how you were doing this morning, you just sent me a thumbs-up emoji. And Logan says you haven’t come out of here either.”

“I— just,” Patton looked down. “I really need to study, okay? I have a test in a week, and I still have to review the three last units, and memorize all these names—”

“And don’t you think you’ll do better if you give your brain a chance to rest?” Roman raised an eyebrow. “C’mon, you’re taking a nap.”

“What? I can’t, Roman I’m so behind—” Patton protested as Roman pulled him from the chair and herded him towards the bed.

“So you don’t want to cuddle your poor suffering boyfriend?” Roman gave him an exaggerated pout, knowing the other wouldn’t be able to resist it. “Jail for Patton, jail for Patton for one thousand years!”

“Don’t be mean,” Patton whined. He glanced at their entwined hands, sighed, and climbed onto the bed grumbling.

They cuddled for about a minute, and Roman would be lying to say he hadn’t thoroughly enjoyed the fact that his boyfriend wore his favorite sweater. You’d think it was a bit plain, just a simple gray affair, but only if you hadn’t touched it — by Jove, it was like angels themselves knit the thing. Though soon enough, Patton disentangled himself from Roman’s arms, much to his displeasure, and sent a conflicted glance to his desk. Roman groaned.

“Ro, I need to study, I’m sorry.”

“Patton, be serious with me,” Roman said, crossing his arms. “You really think you are fit to study right now? You look like you’ll drop if the wind blows too hard.”

“But—”

“C’mon, darling,” He cupped Patton’s cheek, looking directly into his red-rimmed eyes. “You know better than to overwork yourself. I thought we’d skipped the workaholic college student phase when you were an undergrad.”

“That’s the thing, Ro,” Patton huffed, sounding terribly small. He dug his nails into the comforter, leaning away from Roman's hand. “I'm not an undergrad anymore. I can't coast by. If I want to be a vet, I can't just-”

He clicked his mouth shut, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Hey,” Roman reached out again, but he only curled up further. He paused. Pinpricks of tears formed in the corner of Patton’s eyes and he looked so, so tired. It just about killed Roman to see him so upset. “C’mon, what’s going on?”

“I failed the last test,” Patton muttered, hiding his face in the crook of his arms. “If I don’t do well on this one, there won’t be extra credit that’ll save my grade. I can’t fail this class I can’t—”

“Oh, darling,” Roman crooned, as he gently wrapped the other into a hug. “It’s okay.”

Patton sniffled into Roman's shoulder.

“You’ve never “coasted by”. Don’t punish yourself for struggling,” Roman said, tracing circles onto his back. “Some classes can be tough, that’s okay. No shame in needing to put more effort into learning a subject, you just need to remember you can work hard and still take care of yourself.”

“…What if I’m just not cut out for this?” Patton whispered.

“What? Darling, look at me,” Roman pulled away, then took Patton’s hands with his own. “You’re one of the smartest, most compassionate people I know. I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll be a great veterinarian.” He smiled. “Nay, the greatest!”

Patton huffed a laugh and leaned into Roman’s shoulder.

Roman pressed a small kiss into his hair. “You’ll get through this, I know it. There can’t be a victory without some challenge after all,” he said, “But you better not overwork yourself again, mister, or I swear I’ll bully you into some self-care.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Sneaking a hand around his back, Roman pulled Patton down abruptly and flopped him onto the bed, drawing a fit of giggles from him.

“Don’t test me,” he smirked.

Patton let out an airy laugh. “Alright, alright.”

They fell into silence as Roman picked up a pillow from the foot of the bed and lay down. Patton had taken to fidgeting with the sleeves of his blue jumper, quiet as he unraveled a bit of loose thread.

“Vet school is really something,” he finally said.

“Not like you expected?”

“I don't know,” Patton admitted. “I just feel… out of place? Everyone here seems so well-adjusted and driven, but I still feel like I’m bumbling.”

“Is there such a thing as well-adjusted university students?” Roman snorted. “This is a new thing for you, dear, only natural you’ll need some time to get used to it.”

“As long as it doesn’t take too long,” sighed Patton.

“You’re doing great, Pat, trust me,” Roman reached over to ruffle his hair, grinning when Patton pouted adorably and batted his hand away.

“You’re too cute, I’m sorry,” Roman said, stifling a chuckle. Patton crossed his arms. “You know I love you, right?”

Instantly, Patton’s face softened — a pretty blush tinted his cheeks and he smiled bashfully. “I love you too, honey.”

“Man, if I knew I could persuade by flirting I'd have done it much earlier.” Roman teased, raising his hands when he saw the look he got in response. “Okay, okay, I give. So, how about that nap?”

Patton opened his mouth to respond but cut himself with a wide yawn before he could.

“Yeah, I think that’s answer enough.”

Wrapping his arms around Patton's waist, Roman pulled the covers over them and, after whispering goodnight, planted a kiss on his hair. For someone who’d claimed he could go right back to studying with no problem, Patton fell asleep rather quickly — five minutes barely passed and he was already snoring softly. Roman shook his head in amusement. Poor thing sure was exhausted. He snaked his hand around to grab his phone and snapped a photo to send to Virgil.

Mission accomplished.

---

A/N: this takes place about 1-2 years after they met in milkshakes and checkered diners - Patton is in his 1st year of the Veterinary Medicine program, while Roman has been out of college for a year-ish and working on that particular community theater since his senior year of collegeyes he's freaking out about never making it one year into his career 😆 he's a bit of a drama queen but we love him

#sanders sides #roman sanders #patton sanders #royality #royalityweek2023

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kpop-kitkat · 2 years

Text

Real Love | Yoon Jeonghan

pairing | rich!yoon jeonghan x rich!f reader

genre/cw | explicit language, angst, fluff, unsupportive father, family issues, slight rebellious behaviors, protective jeonghan, slight sexual content

wc | 1.6k

notes | none

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Y/n strolled through the school halls as she got many whistles and winks from the boys.

Y/n L/n. Daughter of the principle, rich, and the prettiest girl in school. Most girls were her friends here, but not the nerds or the ones who hated Y/n because they were jealous of her. I guess you could say she was that one annoyingly popular girl, except she wasn’t exactly a bully. She was really kind, which drew many people to her.

Her only problem was the hundreds of fuck boys who wanted her, and the girls who bullied her because of how popular she was with the boys. She tried not to let it get her down. Besides, nobody was as fortunate as her.

There was this one boy though. Yoon Jeonghan. He was a lot like her. Rich, popular, hot, but kind. He managed to find the perfect balance between being a bad boy, but not being like the rest of the boys in school. Y/n didn’t want to admit it, but she had the biggest crush on him and stared at him from distances. The two had met and were considered friends, but they weren’t that close. The only one who suspected her of this crush was her friend, Lihyul.

”Omg look who it is,” Lihyul nudged Y/n as she pointed to Jeonghan, who was getting all sweaty while practicing basketball. “Your future boyfriend.”

”Shut up Li,” Y/n rolled her eyes. “As if he’d ever even date me.”

”Are you shitting me? You are the prettiest, hottest girl in school, maybe even in the whole city of Seoul!” she encouraged. “Not to mention, a heart like gold. I bet he likes you, but he’s too afraid to say anything.”

”Yeah well, if that was the case, my dad hates him so,” Y/n sighed.

“Last time I heard, you didn’t give a fuck about your dad’s rules. He may be the principle of this school, but he’s not in control of your life,” Lihyul stated. “Just go tell him how you feel! The worst that could happen is you get rejected and embarrass yourself in front of his whole team who are also all really hot.”

“You’re a terrible motivational speaker, you know that?”

Lihyul shrugged.

Y/n sighed heavily and glanced to the blonde boy. “I’ll do it. After lunch.”

”Eeheehee! I’m holding you to that!” Lihyul clapped her hands and side hugged her best friend.

~~~~~

Y/n trembled slightly as she finished up her lunch.

”You promised. You have to,” Minhwa, her other friend pleaded.

“I know I know,” Y/n replied, gulping down before she quietly walked over to where Jeonghan was staring out of the window.

She took a deep breath and glanced back to her friends who both gave her a thumbs up.

“You got this,” Lihyul mouthed.

She sighed again and turned to the boy in front of her. She hesitated slightly before tapping his shoulder. He turned around and Y/n still couldn’t believe how hot he was.

”Oh hey Y/n,” he smiled, making Y/n blush.

”Hey um, I just wanted to tell you that-

“Y/n?” a familiar voice sounded from behind her.

She turned around to meet the angry eyes of her father. She wished she could’ve disappeared at that moment.

“You know I don’t want you near this boy. Come, I’m taking you home early,” he ushered.

She was about to follow him when Jeonghan gently grabbed her wrist.

”No, you’re not taking her home,” he protested.

”What did you just say Yoon?” Mr. L/n asked, surprised at his rebellious tone.

“I said no!” Jeonghan yelled slightly, and laughed a little afterwards. “Everyone in this school knows how you treat your daughter Principle L/n. She can’t have any fun when you’re around. You control every single thing she does! You don’t let her near boys, especially me, you make sure she takes no longer than three minutes in the bathroom, and you don’t let her go to parties! I know you’re trying to protect her sir, but-

“You don’t tell me how to parent my child! I know what will happen if I let her party with someone like you. You would corrupt her,” he growled.

”Appa, he’s nothing like that!” Y/n spoke up. “He’s the kindest person I know! That’s why I like him!” Y/n blurted out, covering her mouth after she realized what she had said.

”You like him?!” he exclaimed.

”Yes! And I’m allowed to like whoever I want! He’s right, you can’t control me Appa! I’m eighteen!”

”You’re my daughter!”

”But I’m my own person. I’m not an item, I’m a human being. And I never told you, but I’m tired of being treated this way! I just want to live, like everyone else. That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she laid everything out, tears brimming in her eyes. “I want to have more friends. I want to go to parties. I want to have fun. I want to have a boyfriend…”

Jeonghan felt a twist in his gut seeing her begin to cry. He pulled her closer and embraced her. He felt a rush of blood to his cheeks after hearing his crush confess to him, and he felt a need to protect her by pulling her close, not knowing what her father would do.

“Y/n, you’re coming. Come on,” he grabbed her wrist and attempted to pull her away from Jeonghan.

”Appa please,” she begged, in pain from how hard his grip was.

Jeonghan didn't let her go, and even pulled her away from her father.

”Leave her be Mr. L/n!” he growled. Y/n would be lying if she said it wasn’t hot.

“Step away from my daughter Yoon, or you’re expelled from this school!” he threatened.

”Okay, expel me then,” he said, pulling Y/n far enough from Mr. L/n for him to let go.

“If you expel him, expel me too,” Y/n said.

Mr. L/n stood in awe at their attitude.

“Fine! You’re both expelled! And don’t expect to be welcomed with open arms when you come back home,” he stormed off.

Y/n was relieved, but also pained. Her father never really loved her. He just loved controlling her life. She figured her father was right when he said Y/n was a mistake. Her mother was the only one who really cared for her.

“Are you okay?” Jeonghan asked, pulling away to look into her eyes. He then ran his hands along the arm Mr. L/n gripped harshly. “Did he hurt you?”

”Its just a bruise,” she laughed slightly. “I’ll be fine.”

”I’m so sorry you have to go through this. Nobody deserves it,” he frowned.

”I know, it’s okay. Thanks for standing up for me,” Y/n said, straight from her heart.

“Of course. Anything for you,” he smiled warmly. “Can I ask you something?”

”Yeah,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Did you mean all of those things you said to your father? About, you know, liking me?” he asked, slightly embarrassed.

”Oh… yeah,” she looked down and smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, I was planning on telling you the same thing today,” he admitted.

”You were?”

”Mhmm,” he laughed. “Y/n you have a heart of gold and a smile like the sun, who wouldn’t like you? Not to mention, you’re the hottest girl in school, but you know that,” he blushed. “I really, really like you. I know we’re barely friends, but I’m drawn to you in a special way, like I’ve never been drawn to anyone before. Would you be my girlfriend?”

Y/n subconsciously let her jaw drop and a bright smile to make its way to her lips. “Of course!” she threw herself at him, and he returned the hug.

Y/n, caught in the moment, pulled away and jumped to peck his cheek. She immediately regretted it, but was pleasantly surprised when Jeonghan giggled and kissed her nose in return.

“You’re cute,” he smiled down at her.

~~Five Months Later~~

It’s been the best five months of Jeonghan and Y/n’s lives. Y/n never realized how much she struggled with self love until she dated Jeonghan. She always cursed herself in the mirror and starved herself. And on other days, she would eat until she felt sick because she thought she was too skinny. But Jeonghan showed her how perfect she was, inside and out.

Y/n sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. She thought she was a bit skinny. She had this unhealthy back and forth of “I need to gain weight” and “I should eat less”.

“I need to gain,” she whispered to herself.

”Baby I’m back!” Jeonghan shouted downstairs from their shared home.

She immediately put her sweatshirt back on and ran downstairs to hug her boyfriend.

”Have you been eating lately? I don’t want you to starve yourself,” he frowned, stroking her hair.

”That’s the problem Hannie, I need to eat,” she said, glancing down at herself.

”You do need to eat for nutrients and survival, not to gain weight. You’re perfect the way you are,” he said, kissing her neck before pulling away to kiss her lips sweetly. “I love you.”

”I know,” she smirked, before walking away.

Jeonghan looked offended and sad as she walked away. “Hey! Say it back!”

”Make me,” she laughed.

”You asked for it,” he smirked evilly before running to tackle her with tickles.

”Ahhh Hannie no!” she pleaded. “I love you! I love you! Just stop please,” she tried to sound angry, but couldn’t help her laughter.

“Haha. I love you too Princess.”

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icannotreadcursive · 10 months

Note

Hi love! If you're still doing the choose violence ask game - how about number one? Any fandom of your choice :)

Hi! Belated, but yes!

And potentially niche answer, but John Twist. Jack Twist's father from Brokeback Mountain.

There's a tendency to paint him as just flatly a hateful asshole, and I understand how people get there, but that's such a gross oversimplification. I'm never gonna say John is actually a nice sweet guy, but like there's nuance to be had here.

(Uhhh cw for discussions of normalized violence against children to follow.)

We don't see a lot of John in canon--both the movie and the original novella, he's in one sequence (technically it's two scenes, but most people are gonna think of it as one scene and that's reasonable). And what we see of him, he's Not Nice.

In this sequence, Ennis has gone to visit Jack's parents after Jack's death to offer to take Jack's ashes and scatter them on Brokeback Mountain as Jack had expressed he wanted. John refuses, rebuffs Ennis, aaaaaand makes some comments that are basically an indirect but scathing "I know what you and Jack were."

He's undeniably a cantankerous asshole about it, so between that and the fact that earlier in the book Jack tells that John was unsupportive of Jack's rodeo career and Jack does recount having been beaten as a punishment by his father one time when he was a child, I definitely understand how people land at a place of "John is just all around terrible."

But.....there's some reading around what we're directly told that people aren't doing.

Go with me here. We know that Jack is "not yet twenty" in the summer of 1963, which is generally taken to mean he's 19. That would have Jack born in 1944 or '43, depending on what time of year his birthday is. To be the father of a child that age, John was most likely born in the 1920s--he's Greatest Generation. He lived through the Great Depression and WWII, and was probably a soldier in WWII.

There is not an American man who came through those moments of history untraumatized, and very very few of them ever dealt with that trauma.

Of fuckin' course John's an asshole. Of course he was a kinda shit father. He's screwed up. That's par for the course for a man of his time.

I've seen some portrayals of John as just a relentless and merciless abuser that I don't think are warranted. Honestly, if John were like that, I don't think Jack would be the kind of person we're shown him to be--I think he'd be more like Ennis.

Jack doesn't describe John as having beaten him regularly his whole life or anything like that, he cites one particular instance. And I'm not saying that's okay, the instance in question clearly had a lasting effect on Jack, but fucked up as we know it to be, corporal punishment--especially for boys--was extremely normalized at the time. The one instance Jack mentions probably wasn't the only time John hit him, it's just the time that stands out as when he went too far. For John, that would most likely have just been part of what he thought he was supposed to do as a father, disciplining his son. And probably a place where his own trauma leaked through. And that's horrible, but it lacks the malice I often see attributed to him.

Then, when we do see John in canon, yeah he refuses to let Ennis take Jack's ashes, but the man is grieving his only son, I think he can be excused for digging his heels in about having Jack interred in the family plot. That's the one bit of control he has left in the situation, the one way he can still keep Jack safe. If I were grieving a loved one and some stranger showed up uninvited wanting to take away their earthly remains, yeah I think I'd be kind of a jerk about it too.

But for as much as John is unpleasant to Ennis, he doesn't kick him out. He doesn't object at all to his wife, Jack's mother, inviting Ennis in, offering him cake and coffee, letting Ennis go upstairs alone to Jack's room, and take with him his and Jack's shirts he finds there. The one thing he actually roadblocks is Ennis taking Jack away.

John Twist is an easy scapegoat for Brokeback fans' negative feelings about the homophobia and toxic masculinity that permeate the world the story takes place in, but the John we're actually shown is not a monster. He's damaged.

#eiiri answers #choose violence ask game #brokeback mountain

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baybelletrist · 8 months

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CW: rape culture, misogyny, depression

I've never wanted to be a mom. Even as a tween, I had an instinctive revulsion for the idea. I started babysitting pretty young, so even though I was never the primary caregiver, I got enough of a look at the demands of child-rearing to know it wasn't for me. As a woman in her fifties, I can say that it's a damn good thing I never had kids; if I had, nobody involved would have enjoyed the results.

It's already hard to be a parent, especially a mom. The utter lack of support for parents, especially mothers, in the USA just makes it worse. Capitalists don't care about supporting families because it doesn't make them any money. (They are, however, only too happy to cash in on the need for child care and housecleaning by creating businesses employing poor people for the benefit of wealthy people. Which still leaves poor people unsupported.) The entire capitalist system is built on the unpaid labor of women.

Then there's the misogyny. We're taught from birth that our bodies don't belong to us, they belong to men, and we're just here to be barefoot and pregnant and ugh, fuck that noise so hard. Pile the fall of Roe on top of all this and you've got the perfect recipe for a hellscape right out of Margaret Atwood... and I'm gonna stop now before I throw up.

tl;dr Set the patriarchy on fire, protect reproductive rights, and support parents and families of all persuasions.

But over time I came to see that the basic tenets of rape culture run through our cultural expectations of American mothers. Just as we normalize sexual violence against women, we normalize the suffering of women in motherhood. The image of the haggard mom woefully failing to do it all has become so commonplace in American culture that her beaten-down body, excess wine consumption and clinical depression rarely register as serious public health concerns, even though her struggles can easily be traced to historically and culturally specific conditions.

#motherhood #rape culture #American culture #feminism #autonomy #depression #fuck the patriarchy #reproductive rights #reproductive freedom #capitalist hellscape #Amanda Montei #misogyny #consent

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berserkrs · 1 year

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jack wolfe, gay, male + he/him ― hey look, it’s neptune waxwing! they’re 27 years old, they’ve lived in shrike heights for one week, and they’re currently working at skin deep in shrike mall. i heard they’re pretty self-deprecating, but i think they’re so erudite at the same time. can they make it out alive?

B A S I C S

Name: Neptune Waxwing

Nickname(s): N, Blue (by his mother)

Pronouns: He/him

Sexuality: Extremely gay

Age: 27

Birthday: February 28th, 1962

Birthplace: Doncaster, England.

Occupation: Tattoo artist at Skin Deep, amateur poet

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Languages: English

Nationality: British

Education: BA in English Literature

B I O G R A P H Y

cw: implied homophobia

Neptune was born to parents whose obsessions lay in the stars. His father is an accomplished Astrophysicist who currently works in the British National Space Centre (BNSC) and his mother has been a life-long academic and Mythologist, working as a professor for several years before retiring to focus on taking care of her brood of five boys. They gave each of their children names that signified their shared passion for the universe, resulting in a collection of names that brought no small amount of teasing from the school children.

Neptune is the youngest and also the black sheep of the family. Although he got along well enough with all of them, he was simply very different. All his siblings were very academic, evidenced by the paths they chose in life. The eldest, Atlas, followed in their father's footsteps, becoming a physicist as well. Aries, the second-eldest, currently works as a professor in Oxford university and dedicates his life to research of Celtic and Norse Mythology. His other two brothers, Draco and Saturn, both became engineers. Despite being surrounded by scientists and academics, all Neptune ever wanted to do was create. Rather than find answers in the universe, his lifelong dream had been to transcend the universe and drown himself in fantasy.

He had always been an avid reader, obsessive over various types of fiction and a lover of poetry. His love for the arts did not stop there, however, as he was always drawn to visual arts as well, captivated by the ability of artists to create new realities with their brushstrokes. Instead of focusing on any subject outside of the arts, Neptune spent his school days doodling and drabbling, always lost in his own thoughts. While his parents were far from unsupportive, the disappointment was still there, hanging over Neptune like a storm cloud. It took a lot of intention for him to remain positive in the face of adversity, but he did. He had to believe in himself and believe that his choices would lead him to a destiny he felt comfortable with.

Despite not being religious, his parents were still traditional when it came to social norms. After all, his father had always worked for the government in some way or another, and his mother was privileged enough to teach in some of the most prestigious and inaccessible institutions. The status quo was all they knew. And so Neptune always felt as though there were parts of him that he needed to hide form them. And so hide, he did.

His parents tended to focus too much on his brothers anyway, happy to tell tall tales to their friends about their accomplishments. And so little Blue as they called him, with his books and his amateur poetry and unfinished novels and modest job as as a tattoo artist, fell to the background. Neptune hid in his own obscurity in hopes that they would never come to learn that he had no interest in the slew of girls his mother introduced him to, nor had he any desire to live a traditional life of any kind.

He was successful in managing to hide his attraction for his own gender for the longest time until his private life was exposed suddenly and without warning. And when it was, loosely stitched ties to his family tore apart at the seams. Unable to deal with the disappointment or the fallout, he ran away, hoping for a new start in a new place. He felt as though his parents would be happier if he were far away, too, since it meant that they could continue to pretend they had a normal, brilliant, nuclear family. Neptune would just be a blip in their perfect universe.

He had settled on Shrike as a result of nothing but pure random selection and because of how easily he had found a job at the mall. He is unaware of what he got himself into by moving to Shrike, and so he begins his life here with nothing but abundant optimism at the possibility of a new start.

W A N T E D C O N N E C T I O N S

Work buddies

Friends? Mayhaps?

Hookups, successful and unsuccessful are welcome

Artsy acquaintances

Neighbours

#shrikeintro

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