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#does it have the possibility to change everything? yes
inkwolvesandcoffee · 2 days
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TF141 Meeting Soap’s Little Sister (a.k.a. You)
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CoD ML
The task force didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. They already have to deal with Soap’s husky antics, which can already be too much to handle. Multiply that by two and no one, especially Simon, wants to deal with that.
But they certainly wouldn’t mind the company of the woman in the doorway.
Why on earth didn’t Soap warn them?
For John, it’s the sweater paws. For a second they make him selfishly want to dress you in one of his sweaters.
For Simon, it’s the way you shyly hide behind your brother, a habit you still have at your big age. Normally he loathes shows of fragility, but yours is endearing to him. For the first time in a very long while, it kindles something in him.
For Kyle, it’s your eyes. He simply can’t look away even though he’s aware it makes you uncomfortable.
“Lads, meet my sister, Y/N.” The adoration Soap has for you is plain to see in the gentle smile that plays out on his lips, proud to be your brother and amused you’ve barely changed from your younger days. Why else would you look at him, lowkey terrified of the strangers he’s brought into your home. “It’s awright, hen. They’re good men, even the big bawbag with the skull mask. Go oan an’ introduce yerself.”
Clutching your brother’s sleeve, relieved he’s home and glad for his protection, you introduce yourself. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”
And in that moment, without so much as trying, you have your brother’s unit wrapped around your finger.
So much so that Simon removes his balaclava before he even crosses the threshold. Unbeknownst to you, it’s extremely rare to see the man without his mask and always leads to the unit members exchanging surprised glances.
“What’s this, LT?” your brother asks, badly faking disbelief.
“Proper etiquette. Plus, I can’t eat with the thing on.”
“Oh, so you do eat. I thought ghosts didn’t have ta.”
“Johnny…”
“Just messing with ye, Ghost.”
“Ghost?” you ask.
“It’s my callsign, miss. I- I mean, Y/N.” He keeps his distance, but tries to make himself as small as possible to seem less intimidating. “We ain’t on duty now, so’s just Simon.”
“I see.”
Throughout the night, your brother’s comrades try to win your favour. Kyle offers to help set the table, teaming up with John who beats him to it by lifting the stack of plates in your hands. “Can’t have the lady of the house do everything, can we?”
“But-“
“Please, Y/N, allow me.” His features soften, though there’s a strange glint in his eyes you can’t name. Nevertheless, it sharpens further into sterness as John turns around and starts speaking like you’d imagine he does out in the field. “Gaz, get over here. We have to help our hostess out.”
“You… you really don’t…”
“It’s the least we can do,” Kyle reassures you, shown up at your side at the first word of the captain. “We’ll try to do it neatly.”
“Oi, Gaz, stop being cheeky and get moving.”
“Yes, sir.” Kyle sighs. “He makes it sound like we’re on a battlefield. Fortunately, this is less severe, innit?”
“It might be if there aren’t glasses between now and ten seconds,” John mutters, circling around you two to put the last plates down and move on to cutlery.
“Ever the perfectionist. Where do you keep them?” Kyle asks.
You point at a cupboard. “Right there.”
“Okay. Y/N, we’ll do a proper job. Promise.” And with that, he’s off to help set the table.
While cooking, you observe Simon dawdling around the kitchen. Or, rather, as you discover when you lift your head to check what’s going on, he’s forced to thanks to Johnny.
“Och, just offer yer help. Ah dinnae ken, chop some veggies. Also, she’s into video games- Y/N!” Johnny slaps Simon on the shoulder, feigning ignorance. “Can this wee bawbag help ye with anything?”
“Stop calling me that,” Simon grumbles through gritted teeth.
“Do you cook?”
“He-“ Soap opens his mouth to answer for his friend yet finds himself cut short.
“Haud yer wheest, John. I was nae asking you, I was asking Simon.” Holding out your spatula as a threat to your brother, you turn to the gentle giant.
Simon looks at you through his lashes, but quickly averts his gaze when your eyes meet. “I dabble. Try to put proper grub on the table sometimes.”
“Help me do the same?”
“Uh… sure.”
“Lovely!”
“Have fun, LT.” Johnny offers you both a cheeky grin, then turns on his heel to return to the others.
And so Simon finds himself cooking alongside you. Truth be told, you partially did it to save him from his brothers in arms. Regardless of how well he knows them and the amount of time he’s spent with them, their extroverted personalities still wear him out. His silence is telling, different from the intimidating version he dropped the moment you opened the door. You’ve seen how his eyes glaze over, occupied with dreams you can only guess at. Occasionally he’ll nod and make a noise to make the others think he’s listening.
Nevertheless, it’s still surprising Simon tries to start a conversation.
A conversation that goes in all sorts of, mostly nerdy, directions. So soon you find yourself listening to elaborate explanations of the lore of various FromSoftware games, a topic Simon passionately enlightens you on.
He stops mid-sentence when you chuckle. “What?”
“You have a nice voice.”
“Oh… uh… thanks.”
“Jesus, Y/N, you’re some kind of miracle worker.” Gaz walks into the kitchen to grab another beer from the fridge. “How’d you get Ghost to talk?”
Simon glowers at his companion, but stands down when you gesture for him to remain calm. “Sometimes you simply need the right person, a genuine heart that listens. Now, boys, let’s eat.”
“Food?” Johnny calls from the couch.
“My days, what are ye? A husky?” you call, only partially truly annoyed.
Dinner is an amiable affair. The men (yes, even Soap) censor themselves, finding it inappropriate to start effin and blindin in your company. All the same, they include you in the conversation however possible and fall silent when they notice you want to chime in. Unbeknownst to you all, Johnny is especially vigilant none of the other men makes an advance towards you. Sure, you’re a grown woman. Nonetheless, to him, you’ll always be the wee bairn he held as a four-year-old boy, the barely grown girl who couldn’t stop crying when he was deployed for the first time.
You’re his little sister, the only girl he’d gift the moon if he could.
That being said, though, should you end up with any member of the unit, he dearly hopes it’s Simon. So it’s actually quite reassuring for him to see you two get along as well as you do.
“Two peas in a pod,” Soap mumbles, the words muffled by beer and the clinking of cutlery.
The lads gesture for you to remain seated while they clear the table and do the dishes.
“‘S alright, Y/N. Leave it to us,” John says when you try to get up from your chair.
“You really don’t-“
“No, no. Please.” The bear-like hand on your shoulder is gentle though strong, persuasive in its conviction for you to remain seated. “A small favour, really, to repay your kindness.”
The table cleared, John and Simon excuse themselves for a quick smoke. In the meanwhile, Johnny and Kyle wash the dishes.
For dessert, you sit the men down with coffee and tea to enjoy with a scone.
Kyle falls a little more for you when you show you’re full of contrasts. Shy on the surface yet so fierce when defying your brother. “I was doing fine, crocheting my time away without puppy antics.”
“I’m nae like a dog.” Your brother stops mid-bite to protest.
“Johnny, yer a bloody husky.”
“Well, at least I’m one that did nae get shot.”
“Oh, haud yer wheesht, like you ever will. Just enjoy yer scone and tea. Wait!” You hasten to the fridge to retrieve a jar of orange marmelade. “Here, have this.”
“Homemade?”
“‘Course. It’s not like I’ve forgotten how you dislike store bought.”
“Thanks, sis.”
“Thank you for coming back in one piece, bro.” You turn to the men, who all sit up, alert. “And thank you for bringing my brother home.”
John has to restrain himself and not give into the urge to plop you in his lap. To make sure he won’t, he tucks his hands between his legs when you brush past him to retake your seat across the table.
Simon is good at hiding his emotions, but definitely wouldn’t mind it if you leaned on him and talked some more about video gaming. He loves the way your whole expression brightens when you do and would like nothing better than for you to be his player number two.
Stories and small talk, with the occasional silence to appreciate being alive and well, fills the kitchen as the arms of the clock creep closer to midnight.
At some point you stifle a yawn. Unfortunately, not before your brother catches you doing so. Johnny looks at the clock then back at you. “Alright, lads, it’s been great. However, despite her stubborn arse refusing to admit it, Y/N’s getting tired. Now being the great big brother I am,” the harsh slap on the upper arm does little to make him pipe down, “I think it’s time I show all of you the door.”
John, Kyle, and Simon get up without so much as a word of protest. After all, it’s bad etiquette to wear your hostess out nor does it help your chances with her.
You expected only a handshake as a farewell. Nevertheless, it’s hard to refuse the open invitation for a hug John gives you. His embrace is warm and gentle, testing out the waters to see what you will and won’t allow. His chest rises and falls with a satisfied sigh when you let him rest his head on top of yours. To be honest, it’s nice and comforting, the way he rubs some heat into your arms. “Goodnight, love. Thank you for the splendid evening.”
Kyle’s hug is more casual, like you’re a dear friend he’ll see again in the short run.
“Can I get a hug from you too?” you ask the man standing by the door, who has his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. For a moment Simon seems about to step forward. Yet, for whatever reason, he remains where he stands.
“I don’t think-“
“Please?”
How can he say no now? His mind short-circuits when you wrap your arms around his waist. His hands hover in the air for a moment before he places them lightly on your shoulders. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N.”
“Had fun?”
“I did.”
“Glad to hear it. Also,” you lean back to look at him, “keep the mask off. You’re not a lieutenant here, not Ghost.”
An amused hum escapes Simon, though later in the car he’d have to keep denying Kyle’s allegations he saw him smile. “Copy.”
“Go oan, I won’t keep you any longer.”
“Y/N?”
“Hm?”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Simon.”
You watch the men clamber into John’s car. They’re all staying the night at his place before heading off home.
“You like him, don’t ye?”
“Who?”
“Ghost.”
“I don’t know him.” Johnny gives you a quizzical look. “Simon, though, perhaps. He’s a good man.”
“He is.”
The only man who has his blessing to court you.
Who he hopes will truly be family one day.
His future brother-in-law.
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yourheart-inmyhands · 17 hours
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I just read the Blade with scared reader fic, could you possibly do that with Dan Heng too?
yes i sure can :D this was pretty fun to write! i feel like i don't get a lot of request for dan heng himself so it was a nice change! usually people request imbibitor lol :3
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Warning: this post contains yandere-themes including, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of being held against ones will, mentions of force-feeding, mentions of being manhandled, mentions of feed tubes, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!
Dan Heng is, reasonably, upset over it. He’s worried about your health, skipping meals and missing sleep takes a toll on people, physically and mentally. It gets to the point where he starts drugging you to ensure you sleep. And while he isn’t exactly keen on force-feeding you, he compromises by giving you just enough to weaken you, make you more pliant, and then persuading you to eat.
He doesn’t like to be physically forceful, he knows you’re still going through the shock of being brought on to the Astral Express unwillingly and being kept there against your will. Himeko and Welt said you’d get over it soon, that you just needed time to adjust, but at this rate, you’d render yourself comatose before anything else,
Dan Heng is forceful with you, but still in a gentle way. He feels bad about manhandling you into the bathroom, but once you’re inside he lets you remove your own clothes and shower at your own will. He isn’t going to stand there and watch, he wants you to know that he still cares. The most forceful he gets is cuddling at night. He doesn’t need much, but he does like to have some part of himself touching you. It helps him sleep better, knowing you’re there and that you’re his. 
“Please, I- you haven’t eaten all week. Just… just take a few bites, you need to eat something.” Dan Heng pleads softly with you, hands nudging the plate of food back towards you. This had been going on for a few minutes now, with you pushing the plate back towards him, refusing the food. He didn’t want to have to drug you again, he already felt awful enough for having to do so last week, but you were still refusing to eat. Dan Heng wasn’t going to sit around and watch you waste away, but he still wanted you to know that you had this choice. That not everything had to be done the hard way.
Because of your resistance to food, you’re on a soft foods and liquids diet for a while, stuff that’s easy to feed you when you’re barely conscious. When you start opening up and eating more on your own, Dan Heng slowly begins to reintroduce other foods. Most of it he cooks himself, wanting to make sure it was perfect for you. It warms his heart to see you willingly eating it.
If you should never grow accustomed to him and staying with him, Dan Heng is not entirely against the idea of giving you a feeding tube. It’s a last resort kind of thing, something that would take well over a year to build to, but when it’s brought up as a possible solution, he starts to think on it more. It would make feeding you easier and it means you’d have to be drugged less, but it comes with the added problem of ensuring you don’t rip it out. Regardless, he will pursue that path if you should continue to be difficult with him.
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creedslove · 2 days
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Imagine our sweet Dave looking at his future fiance quietly. She doesn't know he is standing in a corridor, looking at her when she is changing in her bedroom.
They are not living together yet, they are just dating for a few months and she is still a little shy around him at times.
She has her sports bra on, because it's more comfortable than regular bra, but Dave wants to take her for some fancy dinner so she wants to change. The sports bra is a little tight and she has to make a little silly dance to take it off. Something she is jumping, sometimes wiggling her way out of it. Dave loves it. He finds it beyond adorable when she is jumping and grunting a little, because the bra is stubborn and long hair is not helping in this situation. He is smiling and laughing very quietly. He is in trouble, he thinks to himself.
When his soon to be fiance is wiggling her hips to help a tight dress fit through her wide hips, Dave takes a deep breath and admires her. Thongs, so it's not visible under the dress, love handles so soft, his fingers always dig dip in her flesh, exposed back with a back fat shaping her body the way he likes it, wide shoulders with freckles and moles he wants to kiss. It's beautiful view.
When the dress is on, she is out of the bedroom. The large mirror is in the corridor and she wants to take a look at herself in the outfit.
-You ready? - she can hear Dave's voice from a living room. He was quick, so he was not spotted staring.
-i think I have to change. I look so ridiculous in that tight dress. It looked good in the store, but I'm not sure now. Dave loved the dress on her. Belly pouch, breasts, wide hips. Everything so visible, but hidden.
-I think, this look needs a little something to be completed. -His voice low and think like honey. The necklaces Dave helped her put on was supposed to be a gift for later that evening, but seeing the beautiful woman in front of him, he wanted to spoil her as soon as possible. He wanted to see her smile and gasp in surprise.
Dave loves his soon to be fiance. His soon to be wife. 🍓✨
I have never seen Equalizer 2, but from clips and fantastic I think he is my top 5 for sure. Dave deserves so much love and kisses. There is something about him.
Dave York x f!reader
A/N: omg bestie, you painted this picture so well, it sounds just perfect to picture him like that. It sounds sexy and intimate and I'm sure you worded it better than I could ever do it! ❤️ Thank you for this beautiful scenario, and yes, he does deserve all the love and affection in the whole wide world ❤️
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• Dave's heart raced as he watched you from afar, he could never believe his luck in knowing you were his, it still felt too good, it was unbelievable, but it was real: you were his, his fiancee and soon to be wife
• he just loves you, all of you, so much of you it feels overwhelming to him at times: but he loves your body, your soul, your personality and everything about you, just the mere fact of watching you hidden is enough to make his heart flutter, the desire grows inside of him, whenever he sees those clothes sliding through your soft skin, he wants to run his own hands through your body, but it's still too soon, not just yet, he needs to watch you a little longer, he loves that sight
• and once you're standing there like a damn goddess, Dave can't help but feel the need to walk to you, it's like being hypnotized and he can't stay away, so when he places his hands on your shoulders and sees your hesitation, your shy eyes, the way you bite your lips and mumble you are considering changing, his heart breaks, you should never be insecure that way, not when you are beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous
"this dress looks beautiful, just like you entirely, you're not changing it, baby girl, it looked good at the store and now it looks even better"
• he assures you, showing you he's not gonna let you change it, he loves the way you look, you are perfect, you are his, and if anything, he would just change one single thing about you: he would add some jewelry to you, because you glow more than the finest precious stone, so he decided to grab the velvet jewelry box he got on his way from work and handed it to you; he was going to give it to you during dinner, but why not at that moment?
"there, now you look perfect, everything about you is perfect baby girl, look at yourself"
• Dave commanded while his hands squeezed your sides, holding you in front of the mirror, as he nuzzled your neck, kissing and nibbling your shoulders
"see how perfect you are? Your body, your hips, your breasts, all of you baby girl, I fucking love it"
• Dave's kiss was hungry, he was feeling you up, running your hands through your body as his fist gripped your hair, he loved you, all of you and he was going to take you, even if you two arrived a little late for dinner, it didn't matter, you were his priority
• the way Dave turned you around, kissing you even more hungrily and placed you on the bed, getting between your legs as he parted them, kissing and nibbling your thighs and groaning at how you squirmed for him
"you're not gonna remove this dress, got it, baby girl?"
• he told you, allowing you only to lift your hips up and roll up your dress, so you could spread your legs for him. Dave let out a groan at the sight of your beautiful silky pair of panties, it was so sexy and inviting, but he needed it to be gone, wanting you bare and exposed for him
• he pulled your panties to the side, kissing your inner thighs and spreading your slippery lips apart, his tongue immediately savoring your addictive taste; he could spend the whole night there, the way your sensitive clit flicked in his tongue as you whimpered and your legs shook slightly whenever he suckled on it
• your finger ran through his hair, pulling it closer and closer to your cunt, wanting more of your boyfriend's devilish mouth on you; your heart raced, your body felt on fire and you couldn't hold back any longer, you called his name repeatedly, wanting him more and more, as you felt yourself getting closer to your bliss, you finally came into Dave's mouth
• you clenched, so sensitive at how he licked and kissed all over your cunt as you tried recovering from your orgasm; he smirked at you, kissing his way up and then your lips, making you taste yourself in them
"see baby? Told you you looked perfect, now we're finally ready to go"
____
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Thoughts on The Ghoul
So I think all the characters in the Fallout show are spectacular, but I had some thoughts on The Ghoul/Cooper Howard in particular that I just wanted to put down. Owing to his 200+ years of history, he's a downright fascinating, dynamic character, and I can't wait to see what they do with him next.
Anyway, here's my thoughts/character analysis of The Ghoul:
One of the things I found most interesting on my second watch-through of the show was how everything The Ghoul does is motivated by ruthless pragmatism, not cruelty. It can appear like cruelty--sometimes it tips over into cruelty--but cruelty is not the point. The point is always survival. He must survive to find his family. That is his goal and his one guiding tenet. Nothing else matters, everything else is fluid. Whatever it takes to survive.
Getting rid of the three bounty hunters who dug him up? Survival. Two of those guys were already one twitch away from killing him on the spot for being a ghoul, and the other threatened to harm him if he didn't show enough gratitude. Coupled with some of the other things he was saying, it seemed possible he would double-cross or kill The Ghoul the moment it suited him. No doubt The Ghoul has worked with the type before, and knew trouble when he saw it.
In Filly, he only shot people who were shooting at him. Cooper loves dogs, but he stabbed CX-404 because she was actively trying to kill him. On the surface, he healed her for equally pragmatic reasons: she could lead him to Wilzig. But he also seemed to respect, too, that she clung to life despite her debilitating wound. She's not his dog Roosevelt, so he tries to maintain a cold detachment from her (at first), but he has a soft spot for dogs.
He was willing to shoot Lucy in Filly, but he hesitated--which is more than he did for any of the other people threatening his life. Possibly he wouldn't have killed her (she was armed with a non-lethal weapon) until Maximus showed up on the scene and changed the calculus (dispatch the girl and deal with the newer, bigger threat without having to worry about her finding a lethal weapon and killing him with it). He didn't kill Maximus when he had the chance, either. He didn't need to. Maximus had already shown himself to be incompetent with the power armor. It was simple enough to damage the power armor and watch him tuck tail and run.
When he meets Lucy again, he uses her with the same casual, indifferent efficiency as he would any other tool. The point of dunking her in the water was to lure the gulper. It had the unfortunate side effect of also being torturous for Lucy, but the cruelty wasn't the point. Getting the head back was. The head=caps, caps=meds, meds=survival, survival=eventually find family.
We don't know what The Ghoul would have done if they had retrieved the head from the gulper and his medicine hadn't been destroyed. Probably it would have depended on what Lucy did. If she seemed likely to come after him and the head, he probably would have killed her or incapacitated her and left her for dead. If she had explained she needed to trade it with Moldaver for her dad, Hank MacLean, hoooo boy, he would have beelined for Moldaver's with Lucy in tow. Whether Lucy came along as his partner or his captive/extra bargaining chip would also probably depend on Lucy's behavior.
But they lose the head and The Ghoul's medicine is destroyed. The math changes. He can come back for the head, but he needs meds now, which means he needs caps now, and the only thing of value he has on hand is this pampered girl from a fucking vault who seems patently unwilling to do the things that need to be done to survive in the Wasteland anyway, so if she's gonna die, he might as well profit from it. He needs meds to survive. He needs caps for meds. It's simple, brutal math.
While he's hauling her to the Super Duper Mart, though, he does several interesting things that are degrading for Lucy, yes, but are simultaneously teaching her how to survive the Wasteland, testing to see if she'll adapt. First, he mercy kills Roger and butchers him. It's important to note that The Ghoul didn't have to take a detour from his all-important mission to obtain medicine--he could hear it was Roger, he could tell Roger was going feral and didn't have any meds-- but he went anyway to help ease an old friend's passing. And he made sure Roger's last thoughts were pleasant, too.
Then, because this is the Wasteland and the one law is survival, he wastes no time switching gears. There's no waste in the Wasteland, and a fresh dead body presents an opportunity for those willing to seize it. The Ghoul, mind you, has had 200 years to learn that he can't be picky. Ghouls are unwelcome in most "civilized" parts of the Wasteland, barred from the simple comforts and safeties and securities that other people can enjoy if they reach those scattered, precious oases. The Ghoul has had to eat people. It sucks, but it's that or die.
But Lucy doesn't understand that. She arguably doesn't understand what a ghoul even is because nobody's taken the time to tell her. She doesn't know what the last 200 years have been like. She's appalled--and then she has the audacity to voice her disgust. The Ghoul hands her the knife to keep butchering Roger in part to humble her, to drag her down into the dirt with the rest of them, but he's also teaching her a stark reality of the Wasteland. It was a lesson and a skill that he had to learn the hard way. (Interestingly, while nearly everyone in the Wasteland is disgusted by cannibalism, it's also a known thing that happens all the time. The Ghoul and Lucy are in the interesting position of being some of the only people in the Wasteland who were raised in societies where cannibalism truly was unthinkable).
On the walk to the Super Duper Mart, he refuses to give her water. On a pragmatic level, there's no reason to waste water on the equivalent of a dead woman walking--he's leading her to get her organs harvested, after all. (He is pretty petty when he pours out the last drops instead of giving them to her, though). But also, whether he is actively intending to or not, he is teaching her to adapt to Wasteland conditions. The water in his canteen, in fact, was just as irradiated and gross as the standing water from which Lucy ultimately drinks; he refills his canteen from the same rusted-out vessel Lucy drinks from, and likely drew the previous canteen's worth of water from a similarly unpalatable source. This is water in the Wasteland. Drink it or die.
When she runs away shortly after, he lassos her (and, sidenote: can I just add how fucking cool it is that they actually carry through his lasso skills? Like, that is actually an extremely useful skill and the writers utilized it!), which leads to that pivotal scene where she bites his finger off and he takes hers.
This is interesting for multiple reasons. The Ghoul calls her a "little killer" and seems satisfied to see her finally fighting with the same savagery as a Wastelander. This could be either because a) he believes all people have a killer lurking beneath the facade of civility ("I'm you, sweetie. Just give it a little time...") and she's finally found that steely will to survive no matter what it takes, and/or b) he believes she's been faking her doe-eyed, good girl persona. He's the one who first finds Wilzig's body, after all. To him, it looks like Lucy lured the doctor off and ruthlessly chopped off his head before running off with it. Maybe she's just a really good actress, and in biting his finger off, she's let that mask slip.
Either way, he introduces her to another law of the Wasteland: don't dish it if you can't take it. She takes his finger, he takes hers. He doesn't kill her for it, in part because that would be disproportionate, in part because that would be a waste (he probably needs he alive to exchange her for caps). But also, from a practical standpoint, she just bit off his shooting finger. Unbeknownst to her, ghouls can reattach body parts, even ones that are not their own. He's harvesting his replacement from her. If he wanted to be cruel, he had ample opportunity to be cruel here. He could have taken more fingers. He could have hurt her in ways that wouldn't have affected her value to organ harvesters. He could have degraded her and called her all kinds of nasty names. But he doesn't. He's efficient. If anything, he seems almost proud of her for abandoning her hoity-toity principles and fighting back.
He still needs caps. He's feeling the effects of not having his medication. He's still committed to delivering her to the organ harvesters. In his mind, he has no choice. This is about survival. He has to survive to find his family. This is the option he has available to him. This is how he lives to see another day. He brings her to the Super Duper Mart and, drawing deep from that actor's well, he maintains the tough-guy routine long enough to intimidate her inside, then he succumbs.
He's still down when Lucy re-emerges, victorious, and he knows, he knows that he's dead. He tried to kill her, now she'll kill him. It's the smart thing to do, the practical thing to do. Another law of the Wasteland...
But she doesn't do it. She has all the power here, she knows he's a dangerous element, that she would probably be safer if she left him for dead or killed him herself. But she breaks all the rules. She gives him, freely, generously, with supreme dignity and a selfless kindness he had long forgot, an abundance of the thing he needs to survive, the thing he was willing to sell another human being for no questions asked. Just like that.
There's also something to be said here about how resource scarcity (and the removal of that scarcity) affects people. As soon as The Ghoul gains a cache of at least 2 months worth of medicine, it frees him from the basic math of mere survival. He has room to breathe and think long-term (at least by Wasteland standards). He can reflect on the momentous thing that just happened to him, too. As he watches himself on the TV in the Super Duper Mart, watches the man he once was unwillingly (and unwittingly) take the first step onto the path to what he has become, he remembers what it was like being Cooper Howard. Why he, Cooper Howard, hated the "feo, fuerte, y formal" scene so deeply.
Cooper Howard was a kind, moral, and dignified man who seldom said an unkind word. He was a loving husband who deeply respected his wife and absolutely adored his daughter. Though his naivety, privilege, and ignorance blinded him to the ugly realities of the pre-apocalypse world around him, he valued justice, freedom, and equality. He wanted the characters he played in the movies to reflect that belief in the power of the law and respect the innate humanity of all people, even the villains. And, when he began to see the cracks in the perfect picture of his charmed life, he is driven to know the truth behind the facade. His deep, defining belief in justice and truth would not let him leave it alone.
Cooper Howard learned the truth that Vault-Tec (and by extension, his wife) were willing to drive the world off a cliff, and it destroyed his marriage and deeply affected him. Even then, demoralized and hurt as he was, he found it in himself to be thoughtful and kind to his daughter and the people, both adults and children, at the birthday party he worked the day the bombs dropped. Fundamentally, he was still a kind, moral man. And that kind, moral man found himself in the middle of the most horrific nightmare anyone could ever imagine experiencing: the death of the planet under a rain of atomic bombs. Then he lived through it and had to contend with the harsh realities of surviving on the annihilated landscape left behind. Fortunately for him, he already had several handy skills to carry him through: having formerly been a real cowboy, he knew a thing or two about surviving in tough conditions; having formerly been a soldier, he knew what it took to kill a man and had the experience and fortitude to do it; and finally, having formerly been an actor, he had a built-in psychological coping mechanism to insulate him from the horrors of the things he needed to do to survive.
Cooper Howard used to put on and take off personas for a living. Sure, he played white hats, but he had an intuitive understanding of character and narrative tropes. He played opposite some of the best bad guys in 21st century Hollywood! It wouldn't be hard for him to pull the cloak of acting around himself to do what he initially needed to do to survive. But somewhere along the way, the tough, ruthless persona he adopted stopped being an act and he became his character. He embodied the answer to the question posed by The Man from Deadhorse: what happens when a good man is driven too far?
Cooper Howard adapted to survive. His actions reflect the realities of being a ghoul (again, a people generally reviled by everyone and cast out of safe havens because they are deemed threats). Pragmatic and efficient violence are necessities if a ghoul wants to live long, stay sane, and stay out from under the thumb of would-be enslavers. Still, beneath it all, Cooper Howard is still there, buried deep down beneath the character-persona of The Ghoul.
The Ghoul is drawn to Lucy (platonically, romantically, or some secret third thing), to her goodness and old-world manners just as much as he is disgusted/irritated by them. She's an echo of himself, of Cooper Howard, of who he used to be, and he knows EXACTLY where that gets a person. She's going to get herself killed if she doesn't wise up. With those high-and-mighty, anachronistic principles, that black-and-white worldview, her totally naive misunderstanding of the realities of the Wasteland, she won't last long. And initially he sees her as a pawn, like he was, only good for moving him one step closer to his goal. But then she shows him she can adapt and survive. Not only that, she can be true to her core principles in the process. She can conduct herself with dignity. Lucy reminds him what it was like being the white hat, and shows him that yes, even in this hellscape, there can be heroes. Over 200 yeas, his pragmatism and need to survive sanded away the nuance between Good and Bad. But Lucy makes him reconsider whether maybe there is right and wrong after all, and maybe it actually does matter.
Thus begins his transformation, but the change is not immediate, and this is still the Wasteland. He escapes from The Govermint and goes after Lucy. To do that, he needs to find Moldaver. He tracks down someone who might know where to find her, kills him and accidentally blows a hole through the letter with the key bit of information he needs to find Moldaver. So, he goes to that guy's family to find the man's younger brother, Tommy. When he gets the information he needs, he kills Tommy. He gives Tommy the opportunity to back down, but The Ghoul has a lot of experience and reads Tommy like a book. Tommy is not the kind of kid to let something like this go, and The Ghoul has clearly been burned by leaving vengeful people alive before. Tommy reaches for a gun to shoot The Ghoul, and The Ghoul doesn't hesitate. He blows a hole in the kid. It sucks, but again, this is a decision born from sheer practicality, not love of carnage.
Later, he comes across CX-404 trapped in a Nuka-Cola machine (left there by Thaddeus). The head is lost to both of them now; the dog cannot help The Ghoul with finding it. But he saves her anyway and dubs her Dogmeat. He lets sentimentality get to him for the first time in who knows how long and allows himself to bond with another living being. When he does reach The Observatory (where Moldaver, Lucy, and her dad are), he clearly stashes Dogmeat somewhere to keep her out of harm's way and goes in after Lucy.
After fighting his way through the Brotherhood of Steel, we come to that pivotal scene where Lucy finds out about her father's history. Cooper hangs back to observe and learns that his niggling, hare-brained hunch about Lucy and her last name was correct: she was the daughter of Henry MacLean, a man-out-of-time who presents the first real step in 200 years toward Cooper's ultimate goal: finding his family. (I think it's important to note, however, that he isn't 100% sure of her connection to Hank when follows her to Moldaver's--his reasons for going to the Observatory are either to get information from Moldaver or simply to back Lucy up, should she need help). He lets Hank get away so that he can follow him, and he's willing to follow him alone. But now there's Lucy, who is as wrapped up in this shit as Cooper is (even if she doesn't understand it yet), and he figures they both deserve answers. She's shown that she can adapt to survive, she just needs a teacher. In their first exchange since she left him at the Super Duper Mart, he treats her with new respect and offers her the opportunity to come with him, learn from him, and find out about who she really is and the legacy that has produced her. But perhaps he also knows deep down that he needs to learn from her too. He needs to remember what it was like to be good, to be human. He needs it so he can be it for his daughter when he finds her.
So, yeah, I don't know, it's just interesting how Cooper Howard became essentially lost in method acting a villain to survive the fucking awful conditions he found himself in, but even then he isn't cruel. Like, there are a lot worse things he could have done to Lucy. A LOT WORSE. As far as I can tell, he never looks at or touches her in a creepy, predatory way. Yeah, he drags her around on a leash and cuts her finger off when she bites his off, but that's pretty damn tame for the Wasteland. He secures her with rope, but otherwise is pretty hands off with her. If he objectifies her, it's in an extremely non-sexual way. More of a taking-the-cow-to-market kinda way. Which still sucks, but again, it's not needlessly cruel or wantonly violent, which is pretty impressive given general Wasteland behavior.
He's a damn interesting character, and I'm super stoked to see how he develops--and how he interacts with Lucy going forward.
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chevelleneech · 2 days
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Both Buck/Tommy and Buddie shippers are being so dramatic about everything.
On one hand, you have people acting like Buck and Tommy is written in the stars and anyone who dislikes them are being unjust and hateful. On the other, you have people acting as if Buck can’t possibly be in a relationship with a man who isn’t Eddie, and claiming he can is somehow based in racism and hatred of Eddie.
Neither is true! The problem is that prior to 7x04, Evan Buckley was not a canon queer character. He was viewed that way by fans and Oliver Stark was all for it, but that does not change the actual canon history of the character. Therefore, the writers can only fix what they feel fits the current story. They can retcon a few things and so on, but both sides are acting like they’re right, and it makes no sense.
Yes, Buddie shippers have Oliver and Ryan on their side for the most part. Yes, Oliver believes Buck has been queer all along and he thinks a lot of the headcanons about his character’s reaction to things make sense, but he is NOT saying it’s all true. He agrees Buck was likely experiencing some jealousy when Eddie first showed up, but that does not mean Tim Minear is going to make that theory canon. It’s fans and Oliver who think it, but that does not equal canon.
As well, with things being slightly retconned or adjusted to fit the story… Tommy is obviously no longer an asshole by proximity. He was rude to Hen and Chim, but we’ve seen he him interact with the two of them since in civil ways. We know Chim thinks he’s cool. Continuing to demand he apologize on screen is a waste of time. It was five seasons ago, and the story had to change to fit Tim bringing his character back. It happens.
As for Buck/Tommy shippers, y’all have got to get off the high horse of Possibility. At the moment, there are so many ways their relationship can go, and the only reason you all are so high and mighty about it, is because you’re technically never going to be wrong until you’re wrong. Which is annoying.
Yes, Tim could choose to have Tommy stick around for another season. Yeah, Buck and Tommy could be endgame. Yeah, Buck and Tommy could… any and everything is possible, but acting as if Tommy is the love of Buck’s life and deserves fan devotion is crazy. Don’t get me wrong, I like the character. He seems nice if a little cocky, but I like that. I like that he’s written as a grown man who, even though he’s changed, still has a little bit of asshole in him.
Because yes, what he did to Buck on their first date was rude. He didn’t explain anything and left him standing outside the restaurant as if he hadn’t just told him he’s never dated a man before, and as if they hadn’t just run into his best friend. It was a dick move. However, it’s also kinda realistic. So I dug it, but that’s also all we really know about him.
Tommy is an army vet, flies helicopters, was a firefighter, and is gay. Which he struggled to come to terms with, and can be a dick. The way y’all treating him like a savior is insane. Y’all are trying to rub it in people’s face that his relationship with Buck is canon while Buddie isn’t, and I don’t understand that. Buck wasn’t even bisexual three episodes ago, so where is this higher than thou attitude even coming from?
The only thing people should be focused on is the fact that Buck is now canonically bisexual. Tim liked the idea and Oliver loved it, so they finally made it happen. Now, his story has even more potential. I’d even go so far as to say season 7 is going to be a cleaning and re-establishing of all the characters, because so many of them feel a little different.
We’ve got bi!Buck, meaning we’ll get to see him in one or more relationships that he isn’t used to being in. We’ve got a new actor playing Harry, and he’s older, meaning they’re going to have to write to his strengths and build a storyline there that is more mature. Bobby and Athena almost died together for real for real, thus hopefully we’ll get to see their relationship evolve and what if it changes them in any way. Chim and Maddie are finally getting married, so we get to see them kickstart a new chapter together. Hen and Karen have a new child, which will hopefully bring them more storylines and hijinks as a family. And Eddie is dealing with forcing himself to accept a relationship he may not even want to be in. And he’s aware this time, which could result in him ignoring his fears or bowing out, then having to face what bowing out means.
Point is, there is no reason for all this drama.
Buddie is not guaranteed just because it is a popular want for fans, and an accepted theory by the actors and showrunner. They’ve all said it has to fit the overall story without forcibly gearing the writing in that direction. Which means it could happen two episodes from now or two seasons from now. We just have to wait and see.
At the same time, Buck and Tommy are not an established couple yet. They’re going on their second date, and it’s been said Tommy isn’t in the last few episodes of the season. So it’s possible he and Buck are still together, but Lou isn’t a series regular nor regular recurring, so he’s just not contracted to be on set. Which is fine, but acting like a quick breakup is also bad storytelling is ridiculous.
Fans have hated Buck’s relationships with women from the jump, and him breaking up fast isn’t exactly new. So if it happens with the first man he dates… okay. Tommy can become more than a stepping stone, but the writers aren’t obligated to make his first experience with a man something deep and profound. It can be fun and eye-opening and still have mattered, even if it ends fast.
Y’all have got to let the stories play out, and not scream bloody murder if your headcanon doesn’t become canon. Because truth be told, Buck being canon bi is the biggest flex of fan service I’ve ever seen, even if I think it adds to the depth of him. So I can’t imagine how difficult it is to be sure not to continue giving that same group of fans everything they want outright, when there’s so much more story to unfold.
Which means they can’t just make Tommy the love of Buck’s life because Buck/Tommy fans have ditched Buddie or were never Buddie shippers, and want to be right. But they also can’t have Eddie come out and he and Buck start dating, because Buddie shippers have waited five seasons. Just wait to see what happens, and in the meantime, enjoy watching Buck discover more of himself. With Tommy as his current love interest, and Eddie as his best friend.
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kitsunefyuu · 2 days
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Did you notice how some AFO fans who used to like DFO Theory started to hate it and suddenly attack the same fans? Maybe this is due to generalizing DFO as OOC? I once saw someone saying that "to respect someone else's opinion, just remember that you have also changed your opinion several times" but these people only seem to attack what they once liked for no apparent reason, other than "nooooo my beautiful AFO is not like this 😭😭"
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Yes, it is a trend that I did notice when I first came into the fandom that a lot of people would say they are former DFO. Then say how they realize how 'stupid' the theory was and unrealistic. As if suddenly now they are the pinnacle of rational and totally know everything about a fictional character.
I never claim my interpretation is the canon, because I know I could end up wrong. That just how it is and I'm always willing to adjust my headcanons with the source material. But honestly I think the AFO fans that liked DFO and now hate it only changed because other people started being hostile to the theory.
Like popular writers, artist, and all kinds of people begun to sneer at that interpretation beside those in the little community. Seeing it as just trying to 'soften' AFO or as something gross to do to the MC. Or worse some people like DFO but hate AFO so when the former DFO see that they change their mind to double down on disliking DFO as they LIKE AFO. As they see it as like you said 'softening' him to make him palatable. The theory itself, however, is only parentage.
Like it still be valid to assume AFO had Izuku with Inko from a One Night stand, and Hisashi Midoriya is just the guy that stepped up for single mom Inko. We have evidence of there possibly being more aware but if don't like it then that an option too.
DFO theory is simply the theory that Izuku Midoriya is RELATED to All for One. That is the bare bones minimum, I don't care if you are OH HE LOVES HIM or HE AN EXPERIMENT or whatever you want to believe. None of that really registers much to me nor should matter, like DFO can be used in many manner of ways.
The ones that seem to hate is most... Well they tend to either want Virgin All for One (for sexual reasons) or want him to be purely asshole(for sexual or just because love assholes that can go either way) or maybe fear of being the outsider. There also many who claim that every time he does a more evil act that it PROOF he never father a child.
Like tell me you never had a mentally unstable parent that does outrageous things. Anyone can have a kid, it sure doesn't take much for a guy to one and done for various reasons. We also literally been confirmed now he can change his face, DNA, and has actually done so. Also we've seen how he is with Yoichi, literal proof of his ability to love it just dark and twisted.
It why DFO is so interesting since if is the child of AFO it an avenue to explore his character. How WOULD AFO raise a child now that we knows what happened with Yoichi? Is he aware of Izuku? Does he care? We've seen him vault family and say how precious family is.
But then, none of that matters to the former DFO fans who now are DFO hates. They just don't want to be the weirdo outsiders believing in something that isn't even 'canon' and as I've said many times. I'm not exactly going to stop writing or enjoying it even if it NOT canon.
No one can dictate what I like and enjoy. And those people projecting hatred once they loved it?
I hope they know it ok to just like different things and change your mind. They should be happy with what they like instead of just wanting to be 'right'.
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xjulixred45x · 12 hours
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Can I request a like one shot of yandere evil invincible with gn younger sibling reader
YEEEEES THANKS ANON
Yandere! Evil! Mark Grayson/Invincible x Little Sibiling! Reader
Genre: Headcanons
Reader: gender neutral
Warnings: PLATONIC YANDERE, GENERAL YANDERE BEHAVIOR, OBSESIVE BEHAVIOR, OVERPROTECTION, MASS MURDER, MANIPULATION, SPOILERS FROM THE SERIES AND FROM THE ARC "INVINCIBLE WAR"!!
OKEY, Taking as a reference what we saw of the majority of evil Marks in the Invincible War arc, it is most likely that brother reader does not have much age difference with Mark.
maybe 5 years or 6 at most.
If we go for a more similar evil Mark to the normal/Mohak Mark, then probably the relationship between these two wouldn't be so bad...at first.
let me explain myself.
It is left to be understood that for the alternate Marks to become evil they must have had a more unstable childhood than the main Mark had. which made them more perverse.
that would probably also affect his relationship with his little brother.
Let's say the Evil Mark we use in this situation is the Sinister Mark.
He not only grew up with an Omni Man who did not care for humanity, but also murdered his and sibiling reader mother.
causing quite severe trauma on him and to sibiling reader. It's just that they brought it out in different ways.
Sinister Mark probably even if he was considerably more evil than his other counterparts, this trauma was probably what generated his protective instinct towards his younger sibiling, being in a way his only source of sincere affection(whatever if he wants to admit it or not).
and we could say that he justified these thoughts with the fact that since they were both Viltrumites, his sibiling was the only one who deserved his protection, his love.
and at the same time he has a certain sense of entitlement to his sibiling's love, because after all he only wants "the best for them" when conquering the earth, the fact that they doesn't understand it is something else.
Sinister Mark learned to see his Sibiling as a small, weak being who doesn't know what they doing and needs his guidance. so to speak.
And so they both grew, they are the trauma that made one crazy and the other could have been turned into someone considerably more reserved.
since of course, sibiling reader was smaller, weaker, easier to defeat when fighting against their father.
Although I think that sibiling reader definitely awakened their powers before Mark, to the astonishment and even displeasure of the aforementioned.
Yes, it has its positive side. Now that they has powers so young they could be stronger and they could even be on the same level, they could rule the earth together without problems.
but it would also mean that sibiling reader wouldn't be as dependent on Mark as he would have been before he had his powers. Before that, brother reader would ask Mark for help with various things, whether it be giving him a ride, lifting something heavy, getting rid of someone, etc.
or even they will no longer need his protections, his angle rock in their relationship.
Now Sibiling reader has a new independence that Mark doesn't like.
but at the same time he can use the situation to his advantage so that brother reader has the same way of thinking as him.
We could say that it is from here that the obsession begins.
Of course, Sinister Mark is a horrible person from the beginning, but as I said, he and the reader had, as far as possible, a "good" relationship where although there was a HUGE power imbalance, Mark acted as their "protector" when he felt that It was his "duty"
as if it were an imitation of a normal relationship between siblings.
but most importantly, we could say that before the reader got their powers, Mark let them have more independence (somehow).
since the reader really couldn't do anything against Mark or his father at that moment after all.
but with reader having powers, it changes everything.
Sinister Mark, despite everything, is willing to teach the reader the bases of their powers, but he also never misses the opportunity to scare them with all the enemies they will have to face if they decides to use them.
I don't think this Mark is above orchestrating incidents in which the reader ends up in a bad situation (get the shit kicked out of them) and he comes to the "rescue."
It's like something similar to Mother Gothel but without magical hair, just obsession.
Also this Mark is great at making reader think that they are less capable than they really are, just because he has the advantage of being stronger and older.
If the reader wants to go somewhere on their own, Mark will be frantically telling them about all the villains in that area, about how they have no training, about how naive they are, that the world will beat them up and spit them out alive, etc.
He infantilizes/idiotizes them, basically.
This way it makes 1- reader see him in a positive light (no, he's not a good influence honey, stay away from him--) and 2- reader becomes afraid of going out or interacting with the outside world.
In that case Mark showers them with love and can even be nice, it's like being normal human sibilings to a certain point when he's not, well, conquering the earth.
Probably he and the reader have the same taste for comics, so he lends them his to entertain themself. Not to mention the ancestral custom of siblings giving them his old toys.
He's also VERY prankster, the kind of prankster who appears out of nowhere to scare you and then laugh in your face. That's Sinister Mark.
It makes him more funny if the reader throws something at him or even hits him. He says it's like hitting him with a pillow.
but it's definitely not a good idea to make him angry. in the least.
This is a completely deranged Mark, so if the reader tries, for example, to go with the other side (e.g. Anstrong), Mark would not only go after the people the reader ran away with, but reader would also have repercussions.
Using the above as a reference, if Mark found the reader with Anstrong and his son, he would kill them both in front of the reader, forcing them to watch, letting them know that THEY caused this.
I think he could also physically incapacitate the reader so that he does not escape if he is not cooperative, either by chaining them, putting a crawler on them (although he has probably already done this), or even breaking an arm or a leg, at least he has the decency to take care of them, but it will definitely be rough if they act rudely.
He becomes a bully, in a nutshell.
I think that the only way in which the reader can have all kinds of freedoms is if they wanted to be Invincible's sidekick, that changes the game a lot.
since of course! They would do it because 1- they have a similar ideology and 2- they would spend a lot of time with Mark
Mark would take it as a compliment, a bust to his ego, so he would happily accept his little sibilings as his sidekick.
I think that in this case the reader would be more similar to The Collector from TOH, that is, a super powerful child who would not really understand the concept of mortality since they are super invulmerable.
Maybe even if this reader doesn't really kill as much as their brother, they does like to keep humans under their "command" as servants or to do their things.
even "playmates" that if they break, they'll simply replace them.
This reader would definitely be a spoiled child, not only because he is practically a Mark 2.0, but because even if he is sadistic and brutal, he still acts like a little child.
You can bribe them with comics or food.
calls you silly names when they doesn't like you.
plays with toys.
They hides behind his older brother when things scare them or get out of control.
but all in a corrupted and dark version.
and Mark couldn't be happier in this case, his little sibiling came to their senses! They finally understand their purpose and duty to Viltrum, Mark would be overjoyed.
is probably the biggest cause of this reader's spoiled personality, precisely because by already having the mentality that this Mark wanted, he gives him everything he wants, and it really doesn't bother him that the reader is rude or homicidal to others, it amuses him. .
It makes his Yandere tendencies go unnoticed most of the time, if Mark finds out that someone from the empire is plotting against him using his sibiling, it's an insta kill (this in all cases).
We could even say that his yandere side is considerably reduced in this scenario, after all his little sibilings can kill anyone who gets into their relationship or if he asks them to.
They end up having a similar dynamic to Android 17 and Android 18, but with the ages reversed, Mark is the much more chaotic and homicidal older brother and Reader is the more calculating brother who worries about more superficial things.
and they would love to create bonds by destroying entire cities :)
They could even be at the same power level, which would give Mark a bittersweet feeling because on the one hand his brother is super happy to be able to be around him (which is even cute) but he misses the old days of when he was the little one. weakling who expected him to take care of him.
They still have some codependency.
God forbid the reader dies or successfully escapes, Mark would go CRAZY with sadness and rage for allowing this to happen.
Perhaps even, during the events of Invincible War, he was willing to take the reader from another dimension, some other Evil Mark, or the good Marco himself, just to replace the original he lost.
Either way, you're screwed without a reader.
Overall, I would say that depending on the scenario you choose and the advantages you have, having this type of brother and YANDERE can be a bloody walk in the park or your worst nightmare. you choose.
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Shares, reglogs and comments are very welcome!
Publishing slowly, but in My way!
The Evil Marks are SUPER interesting, maybe i will do a Drabble about one of the Invincible War.
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satureja13 · 2 days
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(Poll below)
Jack logged out from his Therapy Game and he couldn't be happier. Tiny Can did a very good job. Though, he'll have to have a word with Tiny Can and the goats about that BL content. But maybe he's supposed to start a romance with Lou to forget about Kiyoshi?
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Saiwa is so happy that Jack didn't feel the pain from his rash ingame :3 So it seems that the feelings from ingame do not effect their life here (like Vlad's ingame hunger) and the feelings and sensations from out of the game won't necessarily affect their characters ingame. Poor Vlad is torn. He's happy that Jack's therapy went so much better than his own playtest, but he's afraid to send Ji Ho in the game. What if he really is going to marry Caleb? But he can't be selfish. Ji Ho deserves his therapy. And if it helps Ji Ho, he will survive it too.
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Jack: "So Sai, my friend. When will you go to your therapy?" Sai: "Uhm..." Saiwa is hesistant. He's their leader and should have been the first to check the Therapy Game and if it's safe for the others, but he's not ready yet to face his problems. And that's fine. The door to change can only be opened from the inside. (This quote is written on the wall at the front desk of my psychiatrist. Another one says 'Change needs time'.)
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Jack: "I'm just kidding. I bet no one can stop Ji Ho from checking out now if he's really Caleb's bride! Right, Ji Ho?" Ji Ho laughs a bit nervous: "A haha, yes. Can't wait." Of course Ji Ho can't wait. Caleb is the dream of each of them (well, except Vlad's). But he also knows this will hurt Vlad.
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Vlad has to leave to care for Jeb and Kiyoshi. They quickly charge the Bond and Vlad tries to let Ji Ho know through the Bond that he's ok with whatever happens in the Therapy Game. But he's not even fooling Diablo...
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Ji Ho is torn. Is it really ok to hurt Vlad's feelings when it's necessary for his therapy and well being?
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Ji Ho asked Jack and Sai what they would do. Jack thought about it too. But he does not have a partner right now so he's up for it should Lou hit on him. Saiwa agrees that Ji Ho should go for it. It's just a game after all and NPC Caleb is not the real Caleb. Nothing is real in the Therapy Game.
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Jack: "So, it would be ok for you if Jeb had a boyfriend ingame?" Saiwa hisses and Jack realized that he went to far. Jack: "This isn't as easy a decision as it seems, huh."
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It's time to go to bed. They are tired but Jack is still happily chatting about the game and they are glad it went so well for him. And even though they saw some scenes on the screen, they listen. It wasn't possible to watch everything anyway. Jack had been away for a few hours and they took turns to watch over him. And it's interesting to hear how it had been for Jack and how he experienced his Therapy Game.
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If Ji Ho's therapy goes well too, Saiwa will try it. One day they will have to return back home to the others and he'd better be prepared to face Kiyoshi and Jeb again. He misses Jeb so much it hurts. But he has no idea how they are supposed to get over this fake realtionship he had with Kiyoshi. Even though they both agreed to it because they had no choice.
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'May the ghosts that howled round the house at night Never keep you from your sleep May they all sleep tight down in hell tonight Or wherever they may be
As I walked on with a heavy heart then a stone danced on the tide And the song went on though the lights were gone And the North wind gently sighed
And an evening breeze coming from the East That kissed the riverside So I pray now child that you sleep tonight when you hear this lullaby
May the wind that blows from haunted graves never bring you misery May the angels bright watch you tonight And keep you while you sleep'
Lullaby of London - The Pogues (Such a beautiful song. Shane McGowan, the head of the Pogues, died November last year but he left us all his beautiful music. He was so gifted.)
Outtakes
A screenshot from the Therapy Game and a photo of Jack, 'The Pioneer' ^^'
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Because no way we're having a normal meal where we all stay sit at the table and have a normal meal together -.-
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From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest Current Chapter: 🕹️ 'The One' from the beginning ▶️ here 📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28
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airbenderedacted · 9 months
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So who’s your favorite character in Wander Over Yonder? And what’s your fav ship(s)?
Oh, I love playing this guessing game!! ♡ ~('▽^人) ✨
Favorite character? Well...
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[🎨📺]
As for ships, I wouldn't exactlyy say I ship anything in this show tbch, but I'd say I'm especially fond of Sylava, in a strictly fanon kinda way.
#Wander Over Yonder#Lord Dominator#woy is funny bc the core four are all so shippable but nothing rlly does it for me. i think nearly all possible pairs there have some charm#when considering *all five* of the mains not a whole lot changes bc dominator's a lesbian and sylvia is the only other main who isn't a dud#(i'm not a pr.o.shi.pper so bigoted type stuff grosses me out when it comes to shipping. we don't go there eugyhgfghhs)#tbcch i'm of the firm belief that lord dominator shouldnt be shipped with anyone in a srs sense. like as far as staying true to canon goes#she's made it extremely clear that she's not into that kinda stuff *and* that she's wAy too horrible for any kinda relationships anyway#but when it comes to lighthearted silly fanon stuff (or any degree of au stuff where *GASP* D isn't a demon & they Work) sylava makea me :)#(in whatever way ppl wanna imagine them. i'm partial to ''yes homo no romo'' qpr type goodness w/ them but i love seeing Everyone's takes!!#partially bc it's nice to see people actually. care. about what dom is and is not about (sexuality-wise). which is THE BARE MINIMUM but wel#a lot of people Do Not do that! sadly sexism and homophobia exist and it seeps into a lotta things in a lotta small ways and *sobs*#SO YEAH IT'S NICE TO SEE. NOT THAT. it's nice to see as a light shining through the darkness that is the internet & 2010s show fandoms sks#ah & partially bc sylava is like. literally the only ship ever kinda-sorta-teased in the show in a way that wasn't just played for jokes#which i think gives us neat things to work with when it comes to the whole ''what if'' kinda stuff- so!!! yea i just think it's neat :]#in both an ''in another life...'' not-so-hypothetical chemistry kinda way AND in an 'im a real stickler for Canon Goodness' kinda way too#haha#as for other ships i'm especially partial to... mmmmm.. 🤔#deathglare in the context of hater learning to cherish & appreciate peepers and treat him RIGHT makes me happy. i like that :)#and skeleton dance is always fun!!!! a real delight both on and off the screen hehah#most everything else makes me go ''oh cool. yea that's cute.'' 👍#ships involving minor characters are pretty take it or leave it. i dont think there's any i have any strong feelings about#except ig that it was pretty sweet when people were shipping lord hater & ripov. tbh i like how many ships people came up with w/ her#that was really swag. she was a fun character!!
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unproduciblesmackdown · 3 months
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why is reassurance about omnipresent omnipotent Love needed like. it's love(tm) has there not Been that assurance & affirmation all over the place all thee time. "but all the hate in the world...see what it does..." does that even mean "hate" or does that mean "people feeling entitled to a superior status ft. its intrinsically promised superior power" like re: the limitations of "hate crimes" meaning there's a need to "prove" "hate" in the "intent." where do we see Love as this guaranteed antithesis to a systemically granted entitlement to power to constrain someone's life. parents loving their children, And Yet. partners loving their partners And Yet. friends loving friends never stopped there from being disasters in how people are treated in that sphere. versus: people giving the most essential support to people they have no personal connection to, no direct connection to, no basis for having particular feelings about them one way or another beyond knowing they're also people in a vulnerable situation. people flourishing by themself. people learning how to relate to themself positively In Spite Of the Love they've experienced. how actions, interactions, relations are guided by principles that are not contingent on the affective, re: Feelings, but on externally evident contexts and patterns and consequences. what of it if you're Hated by someone whose ability to manifest that or not has no control over you still living your life b/c nobody's entitled to someone feeling a certain way towards them but someone feeling a certain way towards someone doesn't entitle them to enforcing a status of Less on them in any way either. why's something Internal have to be considered universal. why's anything have to be considered universal, as though if there's anything that doesn't apply to absolutely anyone then those outside that might be Less in some "legitimate" way. there's that: you're a person and they're a person, and who are you to consider yourself More of a person than them, and who are they to consider themself More of a person than you. "this too is Love" what if it isn't
is any idea of Love challenged by potentially Not subsuming more precise, nuanced, granular, complex, perhaps incongruous concepts into one vague assertion. what of recognition. acknowledgment. respect, care, intimacy, collaboration, accompaniment, without fundamentally necessitating particular emotions, status, even particulars of relationships. "relationships" in the sense of how does xyz affect abc & vice versa: relationality. "if you want or enjoy anything: love" how about everyone's experience of their interiority is their own. why is it important for you to believe a particular commonality must be at play. "if you don't believe in eternal torment of your damned soul what's stopping you from killing everyone rn" = "if you don't believe in Doing Bad Things Feels Bad what's stopping you from Doing Bad Things rn" = "if you're guided by the Good Feeling Love you'll be Doing Good Things" like, will you. when people instead attach any concept of Love to more fundamental concepts of respect for everyone else as equals to oneself and what actions and principles support others then it's like i mean yeah sure same diff in this case. when it's about how something that originates as a personal interior experience is a claim over any/everyone else's? whyme (rhymes with "rhyme"). versus anything that may be considered Universal being something that also does not necessarily stem from or is not contained within any particular self. universe is universal? everything affecting the existence of everything else? doesn't start or stop in any particular person's experience as themself, the way their thoughts and feelings can. i can't think of any of the like Concepts Ideals Principles Beliefs etc i would have that i'd describe as "love." and what of it. works fine for anyone who does so long as that Love is not something that must be Universally Human(tm) or where any willingness to consider some idea synonymous / overlapping / relevant does not just so happen to require "so you still really mean Love :)" like as though a christian universalist was still gonna have to always be telling people how jesus is everywhere & all good things are jesus, vice versa. like if you think everyone will be reconciled with christian god in the end then why do you need to push it. if everything is Love & Love is behind anything that helps anyone then what is there to convince oneself or anyone else of. what is there even to talk about. versus if i were to find/replace "love" with "politics" in that sentence & then in any instance there would be plenty to talk about lmao b/c it would have to do with any specifics about the situation & any events/actions/external matters that could be relevant. the actual Reality of your Real Feelings start & end with you even as they also play into how your existence affects others' existence. gotta believe everyone else is feeling Love? okay, that would still be their own business lol. & what if they weren't. say love is everywhere & that's the answer: well no it isn't b/c we can discern what goes on in the everywherelove world. so anyways: what could we do regardless? feeling more love is self-contained i.e. your personal business. what of any/everyone else. die cry hate. love loses. recognition regardless of the emotions happening. being loveless. being despised. those who go "so anyways"
#is someone or something only of value if sufficiently loved by someone#rephrased does someone's equal value guarantee some kind of deemed equal manifestation of love compared to someone else#why? who's going to assess lovingness / belovedness there? what ''should'' be guaranteed to anyone?#supposing we all imagine a Best Person. are they e.g. Guaranteed maximum friends? are they Guaranteed any friends? (my answer: no)#not ''is it possible'' not ''is it like'' Are They Guaranteed This#do we assume we can or must Prove anyone else is not less than us. do we add anything at all onto the assumption they aren't less#such as ''i don't think anyone's Less a person than myself (why not stop here) b/c i think anyone Has Love''#why not stop there. you tell me i Won't go to hell for killing everyone? i'm not gonna do it#you tell me i won't feel bad for doing so? i'm still not gonna do it#you tell me i'm the Realest Person in a simulation of non persons? i'm not gonna change how i interact w/anyone at all why tf would i#''maybe nobody sees the same colors as you. maybe nobody feels the same feelings as you'' Okay What Difference Does It Make#doesn't change if some memo was dropped like yes Only You truly think & feel. everything else is simulations w/no interiority. Ok; &? So?#dehumanizing Assertions go for the supposed Less interiority like shove that interiorly as well. less pain less Love less capacity for xyz#oh you experience Externalized expression of these people Not being Less? can't prove they're not Faking huh? what if we say they are#Doesn't Matter. veering into ''no; they must Feel the Most'' to counter it like doesn't matter!! what's Happening. what's Being Done#who is being constrained; harmed; made more vulnerable. who has fewer Real autonomous choices to make#e.g. no ''you can choose x. or choose y with threatened increased risk / harm''#if someone's All About Feeling Love well okay possibly great but Lovelessness is good for you like queerness is good for cishet ppl#similar too the way to have a ''difference'' that contextualizes queerness there has to be the constraint of cisheteropatriarchy#like how ppl rankle at being called cis / cishet b/c they're ''just Normal'' like we aren't supposed to be able to name & address things#a related element is that Love(tm) tends to be very flattening. very [is there really even anything else to discuss/consider??]#yeah. isn't there always? why not in this case.#like also everything else this is dynamic. honing thoughts & ideas always; including by writing things out#you know what's everywhere & in all of us including our positive moods / feelings...fluctuating energies in fields#talk to me about That excitement (charges & feelings Positive Or Negative lol...) let's talk about Imbalance handshake Balance#consider having: love handshake loveless then. again do Not subsume! step one!! not ''ok so its all just love'' cut it out for once!!!#rotate it. put it in the centrifuge. the gravitational center. nucleus. radiation. if you're aware of it smthing affected it affected you#up next brawling with the ''math is inhuman dehumanizing math is antiqueer'' w/e tf else. die cry hate Humanities(tm) (sentiment) Loses#ps was thinking lately of the way ppl's Emotional motivations manifest then connect / have an effect. still all about the loveless agenda
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fenrislorsrai · 7 months
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Justice 40
Joe Biden is boring and often bad at tooting his own horn, but by god, he is good at process.
Justice 40 is simple but powerful application of that. its a shift in how the executive branch works. 40% of money from a bunch of existing programs should go to census tracts that are overburdened with pollution, at higher risk for climate change, and have been historically underserved.
The shorthand here is basically "communities that don't have enough internal resources to deal with long term problems". So yes, communities that had been redlined for decades, ones that have Superfund sites, ones that have high rates of asthma from air pollution.
and this is by census tract. Not city. census tract. So parts of New York City qualify... but other parts don't. And the city HAS to use the money in the targeted part. it doesn't go into the communal pool. it's for THAT tract specifically.
Also all land federally recognized as belonging to a Native American tribe and all Alaskan Native Villages qualify, specifically.
And again, this is for existing programs that are already running and have existing staff and budgets. They're supposed to prioritize grants and projects for those areas specifically. And that's everything from Department of Agriculture, to FEMA, to Labor, to Environmental Protection.
Does it instantly get rid of all the baked in racism from decades past? No, not even close. But it puts in a countermeasure that has a concrete and measurable goal to aim for rather than a nebulous "suck less." even if the administration changes, many of those changes will stick.
And as things improve, some tracts may come off the list! Some may go on that weren't there before!
You can see a map here. Blue highlighted tracts are "disadvantaged" so qualify for that extra assistance! Check and see if you live in one or part of your town does. Because if you've been hearing constantly "we can't afford to fix X problem..." and you're in that tract.... there's money available. For you. Build that sidewalk, fix those lead pipes, get that brush truck your volunteer fire department has been asking for.
And tell your local officials that! "did you look at Justice 40 for funding". And even if they're doing their best, particularly people in little towns.... being a government official isn't their full time job. They may have missed it. Just asking them about the program may suddenly open a world of possibilities.
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headspace-hotel · 3 months
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Problems like climate change, where solving them requires millions of people to collectively work at hundreds of different solutions at once, are black holes for internal peacefulness because they give you a type of frustration where you alternately become bitter towards yourself or everyone around you. "If only I could work harder to fix the problem!" makes you exhausted, so you must become angry at others: "If only they cared about the problem!"
People who are already working on fixing climate change need to convince more people to work on it. And a popular thing is to share writings that describe how doomed we all are if climate change is not fixed, how terrible everything will be because of climate change, and how quickly all the treasures of our world are being lost.
There is a particular understanding of human behavior that is being accepted here without thinking about it hard enough. Popular news media shows headlines with terrible prophecies, written that way in hopes of getting the attention of otherwise disinterested people, who will then be "motivated" to fix climate change.
The trouble is that fear is no good for motivating thoughtful, patient, steady commitment to solving a problem. Fear is made to cause an organism to avoid things that might harm it. It creates a brief and explosive pulse of action where the organism's energy pours out as it instinctively, thoughtlessly reacts to escape the danger as fast as possible.
It's silly to blame people for avoiding thinking about climate change. The point of an organism responding to stressors is to avoid them. Oftentimes, the only tool people are presented with is personal choices about what products to buy, which inevitably is horribly frustrating and stressful, since a person will frequently be coerced by their situation into buying a certain product, and even if they don't they see others doing it all the time.
Relentless exposure to imminent threats that cannot be escaped causes Trauma, which severely impacts a person's ability to be resilient to stressors.
I think there is definitely a type of trauma associated with being constantly aware of the destruction of the environment and feeling helpless to do anything about it, especially since we as humans have a deep need for contact with other living things and aspects of the natural world, such as trees, water, flowers, and animals—a need that is often totally denied and treated as merely a Want or a hobby meant only for certain people who enjoy particular activities, like Hiking or Gardening.
We need to expand our minds on how this disconnection can hurt a human being. Imagine if a child's need to be loved by their caregivers, a person's need to be loved by their friends and family, was treated as a desire for indulgence or luxury, or a certain use of free time!
Yes, yes, one person has a condition that makes it hard to walk up hills, another doesn't like the bright sunshine, another is allergic to the grass or fungal components of the outdoor world, but WE ARE PART OF THE FAMILY OF ALL LIFE ON EARTH and WE EXIST IN SYMBIOSIS WITH THE ENVIRONMENT WHICH TAKES CARE OF US. Who showed you what beauty was, who taught you to feel peace and relief inside you in the form of a caressing breeze and rustle of leaves, who gave you awe and wonder at seeing the stars or the mountains? Where does every delicious food come from but the soil teeming with creatures? Isn't the most perfectly sweet berry grown from a plant, nurtured by the soil and pollinated by the bugs? Don't you feel delight at seeing a springy carpet of moss, a little mushroom, or a tiny bird? Think of all that the trees give us. Whose breath do you breathe? Whose body frames your home?
The writings of Indigenous writers such as the book by Mary Siisip Genuisz I am reading right now show me that the other life forms are our family. They take care of us and provide for us, and they would miss us if our species disappeared. Isn't that a powerful, healing fact? I think everybody is so enthusiastic about the book Braiding Sweetgrass because it is a worldview that those of us coming from the dominant colonizer culture are straight up ravenous, starving to death for.
Maybe, I think to myself, humans can experience a kind of trauma from being deprived a relationship with their Earth, just as they would experience trauma from being deprived relationships with other humans.
I really believe that it hurts us to be surrounded by concrete instead of soil, to see a majestic tree cut down on a whim without any justice possible, to see wild animals mostly in the form of mangled corpses on the roadside, to have poison sprayed everywhere to kill the insects that life depends on, to hear traffic and lawn mowers and weed whackers instead of birds and flowing water.
We KNOW that this is physically bad for our health, the stifling, polluted, and stressful environments of a civilization that doesn't know the ways of the plants, but I think it's a kind of moral injury too, right? To see a beautiful field turned into a housing development of ugly, big, expensive houses—no thought given to the butterflies and sparrows and quail of the field? To see a big old tree cut down, a pond full of frogs obliterated and turned into a drainage ditch beside a gas station? They aren't just things, they are lives, and while expansion and profit and progress are "necessary," a nice old field of wildflowers or a pond full of frogs are a different kind of necessary. I remember feeling this as a child without words for it—the sheer cruelty of a world that is totally without reverence for the other creatures.
"They own the property, they can cut down the tree" "They bought the land, they can do what they want with it" <but it can also be wrong, and many people know this on some level, even though our culture doesn't provide us with the framework.
Fear could never give people the motivation to fix climate change. Constant fear of what will happen in the future forces a person to protect themselves from the relentless stress by shutting it out entirely or developing apathy.
A fear based argument for fixing climate change either causes a worldview of nature with no bond of kinship at all, based on the physical and practical dependence on Nature as a "resource," or forces people to experience their kinship with Nature only through grief.
Fear tells us that we want to live—it does not tell us WHY to live. If a person tries to live on fear alone, they will eventually find the desire to live burdensome and painful in itself. I see this emerging on a society wide scale in the USA, feeding on influences from the Christian evangelicalism that sees the Earth as something already sullied and worthless, to be thrown away like a dirty tissue, and on the looming monolith of nuclear winter that gave our parents recurring nightmares as children.
If you go to r/collapse on Reddit (don't do that) you will see a whole community of people who cope with the threat of climate change by fantasizing about it, imagining it as a collective punishment for all humanity and a cathartic release from the present painful situation.
We cannot learn to live without seeing the reason for living. We cannot save the Earth without loving it. We cannot heal nature without caring for it. In order to collectively take action against climate change, we must be moved by something other than fear—and that something is love. Not just love of the outdoors as an activity, but love of the Earth as something that loves us.
The dominant Western culture cannot borrow Indigenous land stewardship techniques as though they are just one climate resilience strategy, without being also willing to change its dreadfully impoverished way of viewing human relationships with Nature.
What right have we to think, "Huh, maybe those guys were on to something with the multi-level polyculture systems and controlled burns" while still thinking humans are nothing but a disease on the Earth, and that Earth would be happy to be rid of us? The sustainable ways of using the land practiced traditionally by cultures who have lived in relationship with their ecosystems for many generations work because humans can exist in mutualistic symbiosis with the life forms around them. We care for them. They care for us.
I know for a fact that plants seek relationships with us, and I was taught by them to see how interconnected everything really is, and how I was made to be a caretaker of my ecosystem. I was, a few years ago, just as I describe above. Too scared and pessimistic about the future of nature to bother loving it, and because of this, I could not realize my niche in the ecosystem. It felt for many years like I could do nothing—i believed in climate change, but I felt hopeless, so I put it out of my mind. But when I began to cultivate a love and reverence for the sad, scraggly, beaten-down fragments of Nature around me, everything changed. So much became possible.
I am still learning and exploring, trying to open my mind to ideas totally different than the ones I knew growing up, paying close attention to every plant and learning its ways. And it stuns me to think—some people write about climate change without this process.
The author of the book "The Uninhabitable Earth" (a scary book about how doomed the Earth is because of climate change) says in the beginning of the book that he is not very much of a nature lover. You fool, love is our most powerful evolutionary adaptation!
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weird-is-life · 1 month
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pregnant reader and Spencer fic where he makes her cry on accident 😭😭
Hii lovely, ty for the request🥰! Hope this is okay, warnings: fluff, kisses, like one swear word, reader cries (not because of something bad tho, it's cute), use of pet names (0.6k)
Spencer is running late at least later than he'd told you he would be and he can't stress it more. You've been home alone almost the whole day, and Spencer knows you are probably more than lonely.
But even if he's already late Spencer makes one more stop to get some groceries before heading home to you.
When he finally arrives home, he can't stop apologising as you greet him by the door, the baby bump very visible underneath one of his sweaters.
"Hi sweetheart, I'm so sorry I'm late there was a problem we needed to deal with," Spencer apologises and kisses your cheek.
"It's okay, Spence," you say into his shirt, already hugging him tightly, "I missed you a lot though."
Spencer looks at you like he always does with a too loving smile, "I missed you two, too."
Spencer ushers you towards the couch, he doesn't want you to be standing for too long 'cause he knows your feet would hurt, and also because he intends to cuddle you as much as possible there.
He quickly unpacks the groceries, and remembers the snacks he's bought for you. What he doesn't know is that you've been craving exactly the same snack he's bought the entire day.
"Here I got you these sweetheart," Spencer gives the snacks to you and rushes to the bedroom to change into something much more comfortable than the suit.
You stay still, your eyes filling up with tears as you hold the snacks in your hands.
When he comes back to you, he finds you eating the snacks while the tears run down by your cheeks.
"Woah, woah, woah, what's wrong?" Spencer immediately sits next to you, and starts to wipe the tears away.
"I just....-" you start with small hiccup, "I just love you so much."
A warm chuckle escapes Spencer's mouth, before he's back to comforting you. He's read every single book there's on pregnancy, so he knows how tough it is with the changes of hormones.
"Oh, baby, I love you too is that why you're crying, huh? Or is it something else? Maybe me being late?" He really hope it isn't the latter.
"N-no, I just-... I just really wanted these snacks all day, Spence," you tell him as another set of tears escapes from your eyes, "a-and they are too good."
"Oh sweetheart, if I knew you wanted them so badly i would have bought more," Spencer tells you with a sympathetic smile.
He understands it can be a lot for you from time to time, even if it's something as simple as craving some snack, so he let's you eat your snacks while he wipes away the tears. He does that until the snacks are gone along with the tears.
You look just unhappy about finishing the snacks as you did minutes ago eating them. You give him a puppy eyes, and Spencer is up on his legs before you can even say his name.
"Spencer...?"
"Don't worry, lovely. I got it, I'll buy you more than enough," Spencer quickly gives you a kiss, and goes to put on his shoes, car keys already in his hand.
"Spence?"
"Yes?" he looks back at you so fucking lovingly completely unbothered about the fact that he has to go to the shop again that you think you might start crying again (Spencer loves you so much that it happens a lot, you crying about how much you love him).
"Of course, but only if you really want to. I don't mind going alone."
"I want to," you say enthusiasticly. That is all Spencer needs to take your shoes, and go back to you. He puts the shoes on for you, kisses your bump, and helps you get up.
"C'mon, sweetheart. I'll get you anything you want if you tell me about your day, " Spencer happily listens to you chatter about everything that crossed your mind through the day.
You and Spencer leave the shop with way too many snacks, but it's okay because you're happy as one can be and that's all Spencer needs, okay maybe the cuddles too.
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churipu · 3 months
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hi i wanted to ask since your requests are open but can u write abt jjk guys (gojo, geto and maybe megumi as well) and how it would be like arguing with them? thank youuu~
ARGUMENTS WITH JJK MEN ˚。𖦹
featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader
warnings. cursing on toji's :)
note. hi nonnie, megumi's been done and you can just click right there to be directed to the said post — so, i'm going to change him to his father jsksdjdk. anyways, i'm so sorry this came out so late, i hope you like it. i was going to focus on my 1k event but then i realized that i'm holding up the requests in my inbox, so i'm going to try to upload them together one by one. / and ngl, i just did my nails done for the first time, aND I AM STRUGGLING TO DO ANYTHING. including typing, but i'm trying my best skdjs.
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GOJO SATORU. arguments with him are just plain loud. for instance, we all know how gojo is, he'd be so petty during arguments. despite that though — i feel like he won't ever raise his voice at you, he's petty, yes. but he won't do anything that could scare you, raising his voice.
believe me when i say that he won't back down when he isn't in the wrong. he will argue back if you're wrong; and even with all that banter, both you and gojo will always resolve it together. he won't let you leave or turn away to discard the argument. gojo hates it when you give him the silent treatment — so he tries his best to not let you leave unless everything is talked about, face to face.
"satoru, i'm just saying that i didn't mean to do that. okay? i didn't even realize it!" you tell him, voice loud and bold.
gojo looks at you, brows furrowed, "this is the second time y/n, i'm sure you realize that — you're not a child anymore." you grumbled under your breath.
the past few days have been stressful. hectic for you. you knew though it wasn't an excuse, but when things get too caught up — you lose track of things, and honestly, you wanted nothing to do but to sleep and take a rest. work has been taking a big toll on you, both mentally and physically — and you can't bring yourself to argue with gojo right now.
"satoru, i know. it's just, things have been stressful at work. i'm sorry i forgot to turn off the stove," you tell him genuinely sorry that you almost, possibly burn the whole house down if he hadn't been the one to realize that, "i'm sorry, okay?"
his gaze softened. regaining control over the rhythm of his breathing, gojo reaches out to you, "d'you wanna talk about it?"
you shook your head, "i just wan' to sleep, satoru. i'm tired." he buries his nose into your hair before tossing you over his shoulder, you didn't complain at the way he decided to carry you — you just wanted to go to bed and sleep the night away.
the male held you close as he climbed your shared bed, "'m sorry too," he mumbles, grazing his lips over your forehead.
"you don't have to be, it's my fault for being reckless," you replied, draping an arm over his torso, clutching his black shirt, "can we sleep now?"
gojo chuckles, "mhm. good night," he whispers, "i love you."
you smiled at him, burying your face into his chest, "good night 'toru. i love you more."
GETO SUGURU. arguments with geto can be pretty frustrating, although he never raises his voice at you. he just knows what to say, and he's always right too. whether it being about you forgetting to throw the trash out (once), or you being forgetful about some things — geto just knows the right words to say to you, without making you feel like you're doing something wrong.
see, the thing is in the house. you both divided your chores, geto does the dishes, and the mopping. you do the laundry and vacuuming. while the morning trash is yours, and he does it nightly.
he's usually never in the wrong. most of the time. but when he is, he will admit so. in conclusion, you don't argue with him often, because he will apologize if he knows he did something wrong. but this was on rare occasions.
today is one of those rare occasions. you swore you had left the house clean — and you remembered throwing the trash before you leave for work. yet, here he was, asking you about it.
"suguru, i promise i threw it in the morning. before i left for work," you tell him, taking off your shoes and putting it neatly on the shoe rack. having to come back home from work, you just wanted to eat dinner, have a nice warm bath, and sleep.
god, you hated arguments. you admitted that you sometimes forget to throw the trash out while rushing to go to work, but that was not intentional at all.
geto had asked your prior about it. you knew he wasn't sparking an argument, but the thing is — you remembered it well. going out of the door this morning while holding a plastic of waste, hell, you even remembered bumping into a neighbor on the way out.
"just . . . let me throw it out again—" geto has been awfully silent for the past few minutes, and when you approached the trash can, he immediately stops you.
his hand latching around your wrist gently as he pulls you over, "no, no. it's my fault, i remember now. i was the one who threw that in the trash can after you left," he said to you in an apologetic tone, "'m sorry."
you shook your head, "it's okay, it's just a misunderstanding. and it's not like you intentionally forgot about it, right?" he nods his head mutely, pulling you into a silent embrace, "y'okay sugu?"
"the next time i do that — i want you to smack me in the face, okay?" you chuckled, placing a wet kiss onto his lips.
TOJI FUSHIGURO. i don't know how to say it — he's just accepts his fate and does whatever you want him to do. he thinks arguments are a complete waste of time, it's not like he likes arguing with you in the first place. he just doesn't see a point to it since he never initiates the talking; you always do. but that's because he did things that sparked the said argument. you reap what you sow.
toji can be lazy sometimes. scratch that. most of the time. clothes sprawled out in the living room, on the kitchen counter which he claimed he forgot when he was grabbing water, on the couch, on the headboard of your bed, on the bathroom sink. and honestly, he's a grown man — he knows better than that.
"toji, how many times do i have to tell you—"
"put the dirty laundry in their place, yeah, y'reminded me that like . . . three times today." he grumbled under his breath as he yawned out loudly.
"then why are you still leaving them everywhere? god, this is so childish! it's like 'm taking care of a fucking baby," toji lets out a sigh, "i'm so tired of telling you over and over again. you're a grown man, why can't you act like one?"
toji's not dumb. he knows it's his mistake, and sometimes he genuinely forgets about leaving his shirt out while being too preoccupied with other things. he loves you, he really does. the last thing he'd like is you leaving him because he can't stop his habit of leaving his shirt everywhere.
he approaches you, taking the shirt out of your grip, "my fault."
"damn right it is. the next time i see another shirt, i swear to god, you're sleeping on the couch." you muttered out, crossing your arms — watching as the male meekly trotted into the bathroom where the laundry basket rested beside the bathroom cabinet.
"is that a threat?" he chuckles, peeking his head out.
"no. it's a warning."
he walks out of the bathroom, slithering an arm around your waist, hoisting you up onto his shoulder as he walked towards the couch. prepping you on his lap, "mm. noted, can you stop getting mad at me now?" he comments, grazing his finger over your neck.
and he did it again at night (and slept on the couch like you warned him, he still hates you for that).
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sluttywoozi · 19 days
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A New Rhythm | suga x f!reader x woozi
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Yoongi has a soft spot for his protege, Jihoon, but you never thought it would extend to sharing you. Not until he tells you Jihoon is a virgin and asks if you'd like the be the one to change that.
You can't say you're opposed to the idea.
Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~7.8k | Pairing: myg x f!reader x ljh | Genre: smut
Warnings: dom!yoongi, virgin!jihoon, mentor!yoongi, yoongi tells jihoon what to do and jihoon listens like the good boy he is (most of the time), mentions of f. masturbation, oral f. rec., spitting, fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, piv sex with a condom, restraining, throat holding, piv sex without a condom, oral m. rec., deepthroating, cum swallowing, creampie, plsplspls inbox if i missed anything!
Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, same age as yoongi, referred to with fem pronouns/descriptors (she/her, girlfriend), has an iud, wap
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You think you’re losing your mind. 
That’s the only possible explanation as to why you’re hovering outside of Yoongi’s home studio at four in the morning, arguing with yourself about whether or not you should knock on the door. 
He’s been in there for hours, didn’t even come to bed last night, which might explain the plethora of dreams you had. They’re what woke you up, and the absence of Yoongi is what brought you out from under the warm covers and into the chilly night air. 
Yoongi’s studio is a small building in your backyard, with no windows and perfect acoustics. He had it built last year, when he finally got tired of going in and out of the city at all hours to work, and he even gave you free reign of the exterior. Now that the garden is blooming and the stones leading to the door have settled into the ground, it really feels like part of your home. 
Or it does in the daylight, anyway. 
You’ve never come out here at night before, because you’ve never had a need to. You know Yoongi will come inside when he’s finished working so you usually leave him to it, usually try not to interrupt him, but tonight, something is different. 
Tonight, you need him. 
Desperately. 
It’s not like he’s neglecting you, it’s just that he’s been working on a personal project so a lot of his time is spent in the studio, and when he finally calls it a day, all he wants to do is eat and collapse into your arms. You can take care of yourself, quite well, in fact, but nothing beats Yoongi’s touch, nothing. 
Every dream you had in your fitful five hours of rest was filled with him; his hands on your body, his mouth between your legs, his cock deep inside of you. It all felt hazy and rose-colored but somehow so real, and when you woke to an empty bed, it was almost heartbreaking. 
And it doesn’t help that it’s been ten days since he last fucked you, not that you’ve been counting…
You’d go back to bed if you could, but you already tried to satisfy your craving for him and all that did was leave you wet and wanting him even more, which is why you only feel a little bit guilty when your hand raises and raps twice on the wood in front of you. 
It takes a few seconds for the door to open, and when it does, your eyes grow wide and your fingers fly to the hem of your nightie, your suddenly freezing legs reminding you just how short it is. 
If it were Yoongi, you wouldn’t care, you’d probably even hike it up a little bit more, but it’s not Yoongi. 
It’s Jihoon, your boyfriend’s protege. 
“Um,” Jihoon starts, his eyes trailing over your exposed body before snapping back up to your face, a flush reddening the skin of his neck and ears. “Yoongi’s in the middle of a recording session so he didn’t hear the door. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, yeah, um, everything’s fine,” you stammer, because what the hell else can you do?
It’s not like you can admit to someone who’s not your boyfriend that you’re dizzy with desire, especially not when that someone is your boyfriend’s adorable mentee. 
Jihoon is barely 27, but he’s been producing since he was in his teens. Yoongi kept an eye on his career for a while and eventually decided to take him under his wing when he noticed he wasn’t advancing in the field like he deserved to be. They’ve been working together for a little under a year now, and Jihoon has become a regular fixture at your house. 
You include him in your meals, in your game nights, and even in your karaoke, though he effortlessly outsings you both every single time. 
But that doesn’t mean you can tell him you’re here because you need to get fucked. 
If Yoongi were the one to answer the door, you wouldn’t have needed to speak, he would have seen that shine to your eyes and known immediately what you needed. You didn’t even know Jihoon was here or you wouldn’t have knocked at all. 
Now here you are staring at each other, Jihoon’s blush traveling down under his collar as you shiver in your nightdress, unable to think of even one viable explanation as to why you’re up at four in the morning. 
“Babe? What are you doing out there? It’s cold as fuck,” Yoongi appears behind Jihoon, his brows furrowed and his gaze bewildered. 
He takes one good look at you and that’s it. He knows. 
You can tell by the smirk that’s quirking one side of his mouth up and the heat that flashes in his tired eyes, the sight of both making you bite your lip and twist your fingers in the hem of your nightie. 
“We’re gonna take a break, Jihoon. Let’s all go up to the house for a bit, yeah?” Yoongi proposes, though you know it was more of an order than an offer. 
You turn mechanically and force one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore the fact that you can feel two sets of eyes on you instead of one.
That’s the theme of the night, apparently, as you find yourself making tea for three, still clad in your pajamas. You would have gone to get a robe but Yoongi caught your hand before you left and asked for some oolong, saying that it’s never as good when he makes it. 
While the tea is steeping, you sit on Yoongi’s right side, Jihoon on his left, and try to keep from squirming at the feeling of the cold wooden chair against your hot center. You didn’t bother to put on underwear, sure that Yoongi would just fuck you right there in his studio, and you’re positive he would have, if Jihoon wasn’t there. 
But he was, he is, and you have no idea what Yoongi’s game is but you know it’s starting to make you feel a bit crazy, like your skin is too tight for your bones and your heart is too big for your chest. 
Then he speaks, and all the blood in your body reaches its boiling point. 
“Jihoon was just telling me that he feels like he can’t write sex into his songs because he’s never had it before. Why don’t we help him out with that?” 
Jihoon collapses into himself, groaning and cursing, his face buried in his arms where they rest on the table, his muscles strained with tension and his skin bright red. 
Yoongi just smiles serenely and looks over to you, raising an eyebrow and lifting his chin like he’s challenging you. 
You can’t respond yet, not with the ringing in your ears and the images in your mind, flashbulb memories of how long Jihoon’s fingers are and how voraciously he eats and, worst of all, how he looks when he comes over straight from the gym, his hair still damp from the shower and his veins still popping from the workout. 
All things you’ve thought about innocuously, no real intention behind them, now given life, meaning, by Yoongi’s words. 
You tilt your head at him, trying to figure out if this is a test, but you don’t see any hint of deception in his eyes. All you see is your boyfriend of four years, wanting to bring someone into the bed you share, wanting to teach someone what it means to give and take pleasure. 
No, not just someone, but Jihoon, specifically.
He has a soft spot for the kid and that’s obvious, but you never expected it to extend to sharing you. 
However, you’re not… opposed… to the idea. 
If anything, you feel yourself get just a bit hotter, just a bit wetter, imagining the both of them in your bedroom. 
You know Yoongi can tell how you’re feeling, you’ve never been able to hide a thing from him, and when that satisfied smile stretches his lips, you give up and give in. 
“What are your rules?” You ask softly, your eyes darting to Jihoon when he snaps his head up and stares at you, wide eyed and open mouthed. 
“He has to wear a condom,” Yoongi says matter-of-factly, before continuing, “Other than that, I have none. What about you?” 
You didn’t expect him to turn the question around on you, but you’re grateful he did. 
“Same as you,” you respond, before looking to Jihoon. “What are your thoughts?” 
He stares at you for a moment, his eyes flicking between you and Yoongi, before he answers, “I - I don’t know. I’m embarrassed, and a little bit annoyed,” he levels a glare at Yoongi. “But I’m… I mean if you’re okay with it, then… then yes, I want this. I’ll wear a condom, I’ll do whatever.” 
Yoongi doesn’t even pretend to care about the tea. 
He just rises from his chair and extends a hand toward you, waiting for you to take it before nodding at Jihoon, expecting you to reach out to him. You hold your hand out and he grasps it, your fingers intertwining as Yoongi pulls you to the stairs. In between them, you carefully move up the steps, feeling somewhat like you’re on your way to the place of no return. 
You know you can stop this at any time, but you fear you won’t want to. 
You fear that once you get a taste of Jihoon, of both of them together, that’s all you’ll want. 
Yoongi must know, he knows everything about you, and if he wasn’t okay with it, he wouldn’t have offered. So when you cross over the threshold and he lets go of your hand to sit in the chair occupying the corner of your room, you know that he must be anticipating that outcome, and you know that he must be alright with it. 
Which makes it easier to turn to Jihoon and cup his cheeks to draw him into a kiss, one that makes him gasp against your lips before he drops a hand to your hip and starts to kiss you back. 
He seems experienced enough at this, you think, his plush mouth soft against yours and his tongue tentative where it brushes along the seam of your lips. You open up for him with ease, swallowing his sounds and responding with your own soft hums to show him you’re comfortable. 
Your tongue glides against his and he moans, sucking at it with gentle pulses that make your core throb, before you pull away and press a hand to his chest to stop him from following you. 
“Let’s move to the bed?” You suggest, perhaps because your knees feel the slightest bit weak but mainly because you’ve been desperate to get Yoongi’s body on top of yours all night. Jihoon isn’t Yoongi, but you think he’ll feel almost as good. 
Jihoon nods, his chest rising and falling as he tries to regulate his breathing, waiting for you to climb up and get comfortable before setting a knee on the covers. 
“Take your clothes off,” Yoongi calls out from the corner. “She probably wants to see you.” 
Jihoon glances over and then looks at you, raising a brow. You shrug shyly and nod, your eyes lowering to his chest as he starts to pull his sweater up. More and more pale skin is revealed, and by the time the fabric clears his head, your gaze is locked on the defining lines of his abdominals. He unties his sweats and pushes them down, stepping out of the cotton and standing before you in just his boxer briefs. 
His dick is hard, pressing against the fabric, but you don’t have long to look before he settles on top of you, his elbows bracketing your head and his knees straddling your thighs. His lips find yours again and soon enough, you’re lost in him. He kisses you so attentively, adjusting to your every move, your every breath. It’s not long before you’re squirming beneath him, wanting for more. 
“You’re gonna eat her out next,” Yoongi instructs, his voice distant but consuming, echoing in your mind like a looped track. 
Jihoon breaks away from you, his eyes heavy lidded and his lips kiss-swollen. He sits back on his knees when you shift up onto your elbows, giving you room to pull your nightie up and off, leaving you bare from head to toe. 
His eyes traverse the whole of your body, lingering on your breasts before they land between your thighs, his stare weighty, nearly tangible on you. The thought that you might be the first woman he’s seen naked in person is a heady one, enough to give you the confidence to slide your legs out from between his and spread them on the bed, showing him exactly what he’ll be working with. 
His breaths come faster as he gazes at you, slowly moving down to lay on his stomach between your legs, his mouth just inches from your pussy when Yoongi says, “Spit on it.”
“What?” Jihoon questions, turning back to stare at Yoongi in confusion, missing the way you squirm at Yoongi’s instruction. 
“You heard me, spit on it. She’s into it.”
“I- No, I’m not gonna fuckin- I’m not spitting on her, that’s ru-”
“Fine, if you won’t, I will,” Yoongi rolls his eyes and rises from his seat, taking a few steps to the bed and pushing at Jihoon’s shoulder when he doesn’t move out of the way.
Yoongi braces his hands on your knees and shoves them further apart, his eyes coasting up your body before they land on yours, a wry smile stretching his lips before he purses them and spits on your pussy. His saliva trails over your clit and down to your entrance, making you gasp and making your cunt clench, your hand shooting down to weave into his hair when he starts to pull back. 
“See? Told you,” he murmurs to Jihoon, grasping your wrist and waiting for you to release his hair before stepping away and returning to his chair in the corner. 
Your eyes find Jihoon, who looks like he’s been struck. He shakes it off and fills the space between your legs again, flat on his belly with a determined glint to his eye. You can feel his breaths as his mouth gets closer and closer to you, before finally, his tongue drags over you from cunt to clit. 
He takes his time learning you, sucking at your folds and dipping into your entrance, never staying in one place for long. He’s making little sounds like he loves the taste of you, the vibrations traveling through your pussy straight to your buzzing brain, straight to the part of you that yearns to be set free. 
You long to sink your fingers into his hair and drag him where you want him, take your pleasure from him like he’s a toy, but you know this is a precarious situation, and you’re not going to be the one that tips it out of balance. 
So you let him explore, let him figure it out on his own, setting aside the fact that you’ve been aching for hours already. This is Jihoon’s first time, you can stand to not be greedy for once in your life. 
Yoongi seems to disagree, telling Jihoon, “Find her clit and suck it, or she’ll never cum.”
You would glare at him for rushing Jihoon, you really would, but then Jihoon listens, his mouth searching until he discovers that bundle of nerves and wraps his lips around it, giving experimental sucks that quickly have your back arching and your toes curling. 
“Y-you can, um, put a fing-,” You try to speak but can’t seem to get the words out, not when Jihoon’s mouth is so soft and wet and his tongue is so agile from years of playing the clarinet, the tip lapping at your clit in between pulses of his lips. 
“Baby, I’ll tell him what to do, you just lay back and enjoy, okay?” Yoongi says in a soothing tone, making your eyes flicker open so you can see him. You know he wants you to answer him so you force your head to move up and down in a nod, melting into the bed when he sends you that indulgent, proud little smile. 
“Jihoon, start with two fingers, she likes to feel full. Palm up,” Yoongi instructs Jihoon, his voice more distant, less affectionate now that he’s not talking to you.
Jihoon’s fingertips glide through your arousal, dipping into your entrance and starting to push inside. You’re still a bit stretched out from taking care of yourself earlier so there’s barely any resistance, his fingers sinking in slowly but surely. 
His tongue stutters against you, a weak groan escaping him as your cunt molds to his digits. You squeeze around them just to hear that sound again, biting back a grin when the next groan is louder. 
“Feels good, doesn’t she? Now imagine that around your cock,” Yoongi smirks smugly, his eyes caught on the blush rising up the back of Jihoon’s neck. “Gotta make her cum first.”
With renewed fervor, Jihoon sucks at your throbbing clit, his fingers twitching inside of you but not moving yet. 
“Now you’re gonna find her g-spot. Curl your fingers and tap until you feel a different texture, you’ll know you’ve got it when she gets wetter.” 
Ever the quick study, Jihoon puts Yoongi’s words to action, his fingers crooking and rubbing along your front wall in search of the patch that can make you gush. He encounters it soon enough, grazing the erogenous zone with his fingertips and tapping into it when you gasp and clench down. 
You do get wetter, just like Yoongi said, and you can’t help but move with Jihoon’s fingers as he starts to slide them in and out, the tips hooking into your sweet spot on every thrust. You should have expected him to have perfect rhythm and lithe, talented fingers just like Yoongi does, because maybe then it wouldn’t be a surprise when you feel the stirrings of heat deep in your belly. 
Would it be embarrassing to cum so soon? Yoongi can get you there in five minutes flat but this is Jihoon, should you try to hold out for longer so he has more time to practice? What if he’s disappointed that you-
“Baby, stop worrying. Just cum when you want to,” Yoongi says softly, and not for the first time, you feel blessed to have a partner who knows you inside and out. 
You don’t need his permission to cum but now that you have it, you can feel your climax building even faster, feel it growing, glowing inside of you as Jihoon moans into your pussy, as if he’s echoing Yoongi’s words. 
That and the flawless grind of his fingertips into your g-spot are what throw you over the edge, darkness eclipsing your vision as you tumble into a pleasure so deep, you can feel it in your bones. 
It races through your bloodstream, electric and razor sharp, setting all of your nerves on edge and stealing every molecule of air in your lungs. You gasp through it, clenching your fingers in the pillow beneath your head so you don’t reach down, tangle them in his hair, and hold him to you until he’s as breathless as you are. 
You think you could cum again if he just keeps his tongue curled around your clit and his fingers digging into your g-spot like this. Hell, you’d probably cum even harder, get even wetter for him, even hotter. 
It’s so close you can almost taste it, but he starts to pull away and you swallow down the cry of protest that rises in your throat, fighting off disappointment that you fear you don’t have a right to. Yoongi likes to go for more than one but Jihoon isn’t Yoongi, and you can’t expect him to behave the same way. 
Yoongi does, evidently, because he says as if it should be obvious, “Keep going.” 
“What? She already-”
“She can cum again, keep going.” 
When Jihoon looks up at you for confirmation, Yoongi heaves a beleaguered sigh and ambles to the bed, placing a knee on the mattress for stability before leaning over Jihoon’s shoulder and gripping the back of his neck, pushing and holding him down. 
Jihoon is more than strong enough to break free if he wants to, which makes it even sweeter when he closes his eyes and dives back into you, one of his hands scooping under your thigh to pull it up onto his shoulder. Now you’re the one holding him down, and Yoongi’s lips stretch in a satisfied smile, like Jihoon has finally done something to be proud of, before he loosens his grasp and returns to his chair. 
You’ve lost some momentum in the seconds without stimulation, but you can’t escape the image of your boyfriend shoving his protege’s face into your cunt and that’s almost enough to get you right back where you were. 
It helps that Jihoon seems to be insatiable now, though whether he’s desperate for you or desperate to prove himself to Yoongi, you don’t know. It doesn’t really matter either way, not with his lips wrapped around your clit and his tongue digging up under the hood to lap directly at the nerves. His fingers join in too, fucking into you harder and faster, beckoning out enough arousal that you can feel it dripping down your perineum. 
The sounds are obscene, the wet suction of his mouth and the squelching of his fingers bringing heat to your cheeks. You wonder if Jihoon can hear or if your thighs are muffling the noises, part of you hoping they are and most of you hoping they aren’t. 
You want him to hear what he’s doing to you, want him to know that he’s pleasing you, that his efforts are appreciated, which is why you finally decide to stop holding back. 
Your hands skate down your body and delve into his hair, pulling his face even deeper into your pussy as you whimper long and loud. “There she is,” Yoongi murmurs, barely audible with your voice ringing in the air. 
Jihoon groans earnestly in response, his hips twitching against the bed and his fingers spasming inside of you before they stop fucking in and out and instead start prodding your g-spot, rubbing and tapping and grinding until you lock down around them, cumming with a gush and a shout. 
He doesn’t stop this time, relentless in the pursuit of pulling every last bit of bliss out of you as if he’s learned his lesson. Yoongi always says that Jihoon takes direction well, and you’re honored to experience the evidence of it yourself. 
Honored and dizzy, if you’re being truthful. 
Your head spins, your pussy growing sensitive and your pleasure growing sharp, almost stinging as he continues to batter your front wall with his fingertips and stab his tongue into your overworked clit. 
“Jihoon,” you whine brokenly, drawing out his name and gripping his hair tighter, unsure of whether you want to push him away or pull him closer. 
“Don’t stop,” Yoongi calls out, but it sounds like he’s underwater, or maybe you are, every noise in the room muted and dull compared to the roaring in your ears, the rushing of your blood in your veins as your heart races in your chest. 
“Maybe you’ll make her-”
Time slows down when Jihoon grunts his assent into you, the vibration just enough to send you spiraling into a euphoria so acute, it brings tears to your eyes. Your vision whites out and you think you scream, and then you’re levitating, no longer on the bed, perhaps not even on the planet anymore. 
When your soul returns to your body and you blink your watery eyes open, the first thing you see is Jihoon. He’s still between your legs but now he’s bright red, his chest heaving as he fights to breathe, your arousal covering him from his cheeks down to his sternum. 
You would feel nervous about his reaction but as soon as your eyes meet his, he’s climbing up over you and pressing his swollen lips to yours, his kiss ravenous and his tongue soaked with you. 
When he pulls away, you’ve got your own essence smeared all over your mouth, and you’re not even startled to feel a familiar hand in your hair. The hand tugs your head to the side and you let your eyes flutter closed, anticipating the swipe of Yoongi’s tongue over your bottom lip. He loves how you taste, even if it’s not directly from the source. 
You can feel Jihoon’s eyes on you as Yoongi licks your face clean, and you wonder if he thinks he’s going to get the same treatment. 
He might, honestly. 
But not tonight, it seems, as Yoongi smacks a kiss onto your lips and lets go of your hair, reaching in the bedside table for the condoms you haven’t used since you got your IUD placed a few months ago. 
“You didn’t blow your load, right?” Yoongi glances at Jihoon, raising an eyebrow teasingly and laughing at the way Jihoon glares and says, “No, I’m still fucking hard, thanks for asking.”
Out of loyalty to your boyfriend, you won’t point out that Yoongi actually did blow his load the first time he ever made you squirt. 
“You still up for it, baby? Not too sore or sleepy?” Yoongi crouches next to you and cups your face, brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone and gazing at you with gentle, patient eyes. 
“I’m still up for it,” you smile peacefully, watching as he hands Jihoon the condom and taking the opportunity to stretch, reaching your arms up above your head and pointing your toes, a soft keening sound leaving you as you relax into the bed again. 
When your eyes find Jihoon and Yoongi, both of them are staring at your tits, a dazed look on their faces that makes them appear even more alike. 
Yoongi snaps out of it first, blinking rapidly and readjusting in the chair, making you notice for the first time just how hard he is. 
You knew he’d have to be into the idea of watching you fuck someone else to propose this in the first place, but you didn’t expect him to be so wrought with desire. You can see it on his face now that you’re really looking at him, the passion in his shadowed eyes and the lustful clench of his jaw giving him away. 
You bite back a smile and turn your gaze to Jihoon just in time to watch as he slides off the bed and pushes his underwear down. His cock pops up then hangs heavily, the head blushed red and the length wrapped in veins. He’s similar in size to Yoongi, maybe a bit thicker and slightly shorter, and you’re relieved to know both that the condom will fit and that he won’t stretch you beyond your limits. 
Finally, you look at his face again, only to find him staring at you, his eyes staying locked with yours as he brings the condom packet up to his mouth and tears it open with his teeth. At first, you think he’s trying (and succeeding) to be sexy, but then you realize his hands are trembling, just a little, just enough to relay the nerves he’s kept hidden. 
“I’ll put it on,” you tell him as you extend a hand and wait for him to drop the condom in your palm, beckoning him forward with your other hand until he climbs back up on the bed and settles on his knees in front of you. 
Slowly, you reach out and take hold of his cock, not reacting to the stilted gasp and muted swear that escapes Jihoon though you want to coo and kiss his cheek, he’s so adorable. You pinch the tip and roll the condom on with ease, ensuring it’s snug at the base before giving his hip a squeeze and laying back. 
He follows you and braces his hands on either side of your head, his eyes heavy lidded and his cheeks flushed as he leans down to kiss you. His cock drags over your thigh before you spread your legs and hitch them up on his hips, one of your hands snaking between your bodies to position him at your entrance. 
Jihoon takes in a deep, shuddering breath before beginning to push forward, his eyelids fluttering and his mouth dropping open as he feels the heat of you around his cock for the first time. The condom is a foreign sensation after all these weeks of taking Yoongi bare, and the fact that it’s Jihoon inside you instead of him is even more odd, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good. 
Because it does, he does, especially when you remember that it’s been ten days since you had anything but a vibrator. Jihoon is warm, and thick, and real, and best of all, he’s holding back whimpers, his eyes closed and his face screwed up in pleasure, his hips jerking into yours in little thrusts like he can’t bear to keep still. 
When he bottoms out, he collapses to his elbows, leaving his chest pressed against yours and his face just inches away, every microscopic change in his expression obvious to you with him so close. 
You can tell he’s steeling himself to pull out, his jaw clenching and his brow furrowing as he draws his hips back slowly, his cock leaving the warm clutch of your pussy until only the head remains. You don’t even think he’s breathing, his cheeks turning red and his face growing pained, like it feels so good, it hurts. 
He slides back in and you make the mistake of squeezing down, and that’s when he stutters, “F-fuck, I can’t- ‘m sorry, I’m gonna fucking-”
His cock jerks and twitches and there’s a muted burst of warmth inside of you, one that’s contained in rubber as he tips into the abyss, his forehead dropping down to rest on your collarbone and his body shaking on top of yours. 
His gasps sound more like sobs, his beautiful, diminutive cries of pleasure making you flutter around him, prolonging his orgasm until he’s hissing through clenched teeth and digging his hips into yours as if in retribution. 
He starts to soften inside of you and you’re content to let him rest and recuperate, but Yoongi has other ideas. 
“Get up,” he commands, making your eyes flick over to him, a glower overtaking your face when he repeats himself. “Jihoon, get up.”
Jihoon reaches down and grips the base of his cock as he withdraws from you, holding the condom in place and cringing when he fully leaves your pussy. He slips the condom off and ties a clumsy knot, tossing it in the waste basket that sits under Yoongi’s bedside table before shuffling off the bed. 
He doesn’t look at you, and you wonder if he’s too embarrassed or if he thinks he’ll be met with disappointment. Maybe both, and Yoongi certainly isn’t helping the situation. You don’t know what he’s playing at, rushing Jihoon like this, being so harsh when Jihoon’s at his most vulnerable, but you don’t care for it. 
“Yoongi,” you murmur lowly, a warning in your voice. 
“Baby, I’m not doing this to be mean. I just want him to learn,” Yoongi placates you, rising from the chair and pointing at it. He waits for Jihoon to take a seat before making his way toward you, gripping the back of his shirt to haul it off as he walks. He sheds his sweats next, his boxers dropping with them, and when you set your eyes on his cock, they almost bulge out of your head. 
You think this is the hardest you’ve ever seen him, his dick a purplish rose and his balls heavy, full. You’re speechless, wide eyed, as he climbs onto the bed and reaches for your legs. He arranges you how he wants, planting his hands on the underside of your thighs and pushing them up against your body until he can get his shoulders under your knees. 
One hand settles next to your head for balance and the other grips his cock, lightly smacking your pussy with it, the weeping head landing right on your swollen clit. You squirm and gasp at the feeling, your entrance clenching around nothing, pushing out more of your arousal to drip down your ass onto the bed. 
He does it again, and again, and again, until you’re whimpering and clawing at him, ready to beg him to just fucking put it in already, and that’s when he guides his cock into place and slides home. 
You and Yoongi moan in unison, yours more high pitched than his though both ring with relief. 
Him and Jihoon don’t feel all that different but Yoongi is familiar, Yoongi is loved, Yoongi is yours,  and that heightens every sensation. He stays buried in you, his gaze locked with yours, possession burning in his eyes like a wildfire. 
You’re sure it’s because he gets to feel you bare and Jihoon doesn’t, and you wonder if he’s staying still for so long because he wants you to remember who you belong with. Then you feel him twitch inside of you and notice the tension on his face, and you know that’s not the case at all. 
It’s that he’s inches away from doing exactly what Jihoon did, except he doesn’t have the excuse of being a virgin. 
Yoongi hasn’t cum early in years, has practically become a paragon of self-control and patience, lasting long enough to get you there twice even when you first did away with the condoms. You’re almost gleeful to discover he’s so close to the edge right now, and you’re about to clamp down around him and push him even closer when his eyes harden and he mutters, “Don’t you fucking dare.”
And you try to listen, you really, really do, but you just can’t help the way your pussy responds to him, especially when he uses that voice on you. 
So truly, it’s not even your fault when your walls swallow around his cock and suck him in deeper, the ragged groan he lets out only making you clench down more. 
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” you whisper faintly, taking a deep breath and attempting to relax your inner muscles as he starts to pull out. “Don’t go,” you whimper, clinging to whatever skin you can reach, one hand wrapping around the wrist next to your head and the other flying down to grasp his hip.
You’re not strong enough to hold him in place, so you know it’s of his own volition when he stops moving, your cunt squeezing around what’s still inside, your whole body begging him not to leave. 
He leans in close and narrows his eyes at you, probably trying to see if you’re playing some kind of trick on him, but you know there’s nothing in your gaze but a frantic wish to keep him inside, to finally feel him fuck you like you’ve needed for the last ten days. 
His face softens into something fond and he murmurs, “Gonna give you what you need, baby.”
Then, with his eyes still on yours, he calls out, “Jihoon, c’mere.”
You hear him padding over to the bed, and you’re sure he’s just as confused as you are at his sudden involvement. Yoongi straightens up, breaking free of your hold and sitting back on his knees before gripping your hips tightly and pulling your ass into his lap, filling you with his cock and making space at the head of the bed in one rough move. 
“Get on the bed, grab her hands,” Yoongi tells Jihoon, his stern voice leaving no room for questioning. 
It seems Jihoon has learned his lesson by now, obeying Yoongi quickly and carefully, sliding into place behind you with his legs spread under your shoulders. His hands reach for yours and you offer them with only a little apprehension, gasping when he lifts your upper body enough for your head to rest on his thigh, your hands held against his toned stomach. 
“Comfy, babe?” Yoongi asks you, waiting for you to nod before drawing his hips back until only the tip rests inside of you. He shoves forward, his pelvis smacking into your ass, a slick squelch sounding when he bottoms out. 
He doesn’t give you any time to get used to it, every thrust that follows just as deep, just as vicious. 
The rhythm of his cock slamming into you overtakes your heartbeat, your cunt throbbing and drooling around him as he rams into you, forcing your wetness out of your pussy and your thoughts out of your head. 
Soon enough, you’re mindless with pleasure and writhing in their laps, arching into and away from the wicked bucking of Yoongi’s hips, his cock plunging into you so fast and so hard, you aren’t sure you’ll survive. 
You can’t stop crying either, whining and blubbering nonsense words intercut with your boyfriend’s name, pleading for him to keep going because you’ll die if he stops but also he might kill you if he doesn’t. 
“You can take it, baby,” Yoongi breathlessly assures you, his eyes lighting up with a devilish idea. “Maybe you just need something to focus on. Turn your head.” 
Maybe he’s right, maybe you do just need to devote what little brain power you have left to something, so you turn your head and there it is, Jihoon’s bright red, rock hard cock. 
With a desirous moan, you lean forward and drag your tongue up the side of his shaft, following one of the veins that winds around his dick like a vine. He chokes out a groan, his hands holding yours tighter when you tilt your head back and whimper, “Jihoon, please, put it in my mouth.”
There are tears streaming down your cheeks as you part your lips, laying your tongue out to entice him more. Yoongi is still fucking you, hasn’t let up for even a second, and you can feel his eyes on you as Jihoon transfers your hands to one of his and grips the base of his dick, pointing it in your direction and slowly feeding it into your mouth. 
The angle is awkward but you can work with it, letting out a garbled ‘thank you’ and consciously relaxing your throat so he can slide deeper inside. 
“That’s my girl, such nice manners,” Yoongi coos with a slight tone of condescension, watching as you swallow around Jihoon’s cock and fight not to choke. 
“Wanna feel something amazing?” Yoongi asks Jihoon, who mutters doubtfully, “Something better than this?” and then he must nod because Yoongi says, “Put your hand on her throat. You can squeeze a little.”
Both of your hands are still gathered up in one of Jihoon’s, and you feel his free hand tentatively wrap around your neck, making you whine around him and clench around Yoongi. 
��Fuck, is that my-” An avid groan cuts him off, his fingers spasming on your throat, though they don’t tighten to the point of pain. 
A trickle of precum slides down your esophagus and you swallow again, your throat working around his thick cock, taking in another inch. You’re almost at the root now, close enough for your chin to brush his balls, and you’re about to get the last little bit inside when Yoongi scoops his hips on a stroke out and grinds right over your g-spot. 
You squeak and jerk between them, your back arching as he starts to aim every single thrust there, battering the patch of nerves until you think you’ll cum just from this, just from his dick inside of you. 
Then you feel his hand work itself between your thighs, his fingers cruel and exacting on your clit, and you have to pull off of Jihoon to gasp for air as an orgasm tears through you like a tornado, your pleasure wild, furious, devastating. 
He doesn’t let up for even a minute, fucking you through it and leaning down over you to sink a hand into your hair, guiding your mouth back to Jihoon’s cock. 
“Make him cum, baby.”
You bury him in your mouth again, nuzzling down until your nose brushes his skin and his cock fills your throat. He twitches and leaks, and you just know he’s close, but you don’t have the right angle to bob your head up and down, to give him any friction. All you can do is swallow and moan plaintively and hope it’ll be enough to carry him over the edge. 
Your teary eyes flicker up and lock with his, and that’s what does it. His face crumples and a strangled moan forces its way out of his mouth as his cum shoots down your throat, his cock twitching, pulsing, throbbing between your lips. His grasp on your hands is so tight, it almost hurts, but the fingers on your neck never grip harder, never constrict to the point of suffocation. 
Your throat convulses around him and he pulls out with a wounded sound, probably too sensitive to stay in the wet heat of your mouth any longer. His hand pets your neck and glides up to your face, wiping your tears away and cupping your cheek as Yoongi’s fingers start to swirl between your legs again. 
You don’t know if you have another release left in you, but if you do, Yoongi will draw it out, and he’ll do it with a smile on his face. He’s mean that way, but so nice too, and now that all you have to focus on is the feeling of him surging in and out of you, the spark of painful bliss is familiar. 
It reminds you that you’ve survived him before, and that this time won’t be any different even if you don’t feel like the same person after. 
Yoongi fucks you like he’s remaking you in the shape of him, like he wants to take you down to your nuts and bolts then build you back up in a new form, one that bears his signature. It’s raw and rough and filthy, but beautiful too, which is always how he leaves you feeling when he’s had his way with you. 
That’s the last thought you have before he sweeps all of them up and away with one final circle of his fingers on your sensitive, swollen clit. 
Euphoria and agony battle within you, your climax excruciating but rapturous, sending you into a spiral of warring sensations that have you near delirious until finally, finally, finally, Yoongi lets himself break. 
You whimper at the feeling of his cock hardening and twitching in your spent pussy but his cum flowing into you is a balm, soaking your delicate, tender walls with a warm wash of white. You breathe through the sting of overstimulation, your eyes watering again and your body shuddering between Jihoon and Yoongi. 
Sometimes Yoongi stays inside after but you think he can tell you’re too wrung out, so he carefully slides out of you and lowers your legs from his shoulders, his palms gliding up and down your thighs in a soothing manner. 
“Jihoon,” he says softly, his eyes still on you. “Go through that door and grab a washcloth from the closet, the softest one you can find. Get it wet with some warm water and bring it here.”
Jihoon is quick to follow Yoongi’s instruction, supporting your neck as he slips out from under you and brushing a thumb over your cheekbone before he leaves. 
You hear the opening and closing of a door, then running water, then the quiet padding of feet on hardwoods. Your eyes have fluttered closed but you’re not surprised when you feel gentle hands cleaning you up, dabbing the washcloth between your legs, mindful of your sensitivity. 
They fly open when you hear Yoongi say, “You can stay in the guestroom, if you want. It’s clean and ready for you.”
“You can stay in the guestroom, Jihoon is staying right here,” you assert, reaching blindly for him and clinging to his hand when you find it. 
The time after losing your virginity can be fraught with emotion, and you’re not going to make Jihoon go through that alone. You also happen to feel unbearably fond of him now, and you’re itching to give him the affection he deserves after listening to Yoongi so well. 
Yoongi just holds his hands up in surrender, muttering, “You’re middle spoon, then.”
As if that’s some kind of hardship. 
Yoongi pulls two pairs of pajamas and a big t-shirt out of his drawer, passing one set over to Jihoon before walking over to you and carefully pulling the t-shirt over your head. He reaches into the arm holes and pulls your arms through like you can’t do it yourself, and you’d tease him if you didn’t feel so exhausted, you could pass out. 
You have to get up so Yoongi can strip the comforter off the bed, and instead of putting it in the wash like he should, he just tosses it to the floor and grabs the backup from the closet. He waits for you to get under the sheets before throwing it over you, letting it float down to cover the bed and climbing in behind you. 
Clothed in his borrowed pajamas, Jihoon awkwardly hovers by the side of the bed, looking unsure. You turn down his side of the comforter and reach a tired hand out, sighing contentedly when he blushes, smiles, and slides in, snuggling up against you. 
Yoongi’s arm wraps around your waist and yours wraps around Jihoon’s, and the three of you sink into sleep easily, comfortably, warmly, even as the sun rises and seeps through the edges of your blackout curtains. 
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They’re making breakfast together and chatting about music when you limp downstairs, fresh out of the shower and starving out of your mind. You wonder if it will be awkward, but then Yoongi presses a kiss to your cheek and raises a brow at Jihoon, clapping him on the shoulder when he does the same, and that's how you know things will be just fine.
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AN: would not exist without @bbychocolat jokingly saying "woozi yoongi threesome" and the help of @highvern @whipped-for-kpop-fics @wooahaeproductions and @daechwitatamic! thank you all for sharing your yoongi expertise and holding my hand throughout this journey (and it was a journey)
i've never written yoongi before!! pls tell me your thoughts i am desperate to know 💖
1K notes · View notes
shiny-jr · 6 months
Text
from POMEFIORE
- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 
- Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier.
- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.
- Note: Hoping its not too out of character.
Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore   |   Scarabia
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Perfume. The carefully sealed envelope reeked of it, like the sweet smell of lavender with spice. The envelope containing the message looked like something you would find when getting an invitation to a ball or a wedding. The envelope was pristine, and the wax sealing it was done so perfectly without a single awkward edge.
It almost looked unnatural with how perfect it appeared. The thick beige parchment was cut evenly, and not a blot of ink strayed from the elegantly curved cursive words that looked like ribbons upon the page. Looks could be deceiving. It was beautiful, but as you might've already guessed, the interior didn't entirely match what was hidden beneath the surface.
To my darling player,
I am at fault and take full responsibility for my actions.
All I've ever wished for, was to admire you. You are the epitome of magnificence, divinity that I can only dream to one day achieve but knowing I will never truly reach. There's an otherworldly sort of allure to you, which drew me in far too close. Much like the man who enhanced himself with wings of wax, but flew too close to the sun so his wings melted and he met a terrible fate. You are the sun, and I was that reckless fool with fake wings.
I allowed myself to get too close, tainting your light with my imperfect presence. Your grace was the warm sunlight on my skin, when everything around me was a horrible darkness. To think, I attempted to put out that light. It was nearly diminished. For that, I should be burned. I'm sorry, so so sorry.
I've thought long and hard on what I could possibly say to you, what sort of response could be adequate enough considering what you mean to me and the delicate situation. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the answer: no response is fitting. It doesn't matter if I pen a letter long enough to rival the river of tears I shed, coat the envelope in gold and ink of silver, with a message that would have moved the seven themselves to weep. It does not change the betrayal that occurred. I betrayed the trust you gave me, and shattered it into millions of pieces. However, know that I'll be on my hands and knees piecing it back together again, even if the shards cause me to bleed, you are worth it.
The stabbing sensation on my skin would be nothing compared to the one in my heart that I feel when I consider the fact that you might despise me. There's nothing more I would want than to see your face, hold your hands and feel the warmth of your skin that's so unlike the coldness of your vessel. Requesting a meeting would be imperious, as I have no right to ask you of this. But if I could, I would love to see you and discuss what comes next, perhaps over lunch. This is just a thought, a wish of mine, but one you are not required to fulfill.
I'd love to believe that I know you and your vessel better than anyone else could even dream of understanding, but I know that is far from the truth. Even as I pampered and polished your precious doll, your secrets continue to escape me. Did you ever hear me, when I brushed and washed Yuu's hair? When I took their freezing cold hands and painted their nails? When kneeled down in front of them to polish their shoes? When I adorned the best luxuries of brand accessories on their body?
I would kneel down to no one else.
There was always this wish, a dream of mine, that one day I might perhaps one day get to pamper you. Not Yuu. But you. Is that a scandalous desire?
Your hands would be warm, and I would hold them as I file your nails. Your arm wouldn't be so rigid and mechanical, you could actually extend it as I slather a creamy scented lotion along your skin. And if you do desired, I could lift your head and apply lipstick to your lips... This is just the process I commonly used while your vessel was under my care.
Although, I would gladly take up the responsibility of nursing you back to health, or any other role you would give me. There are countless things I can accomplish for you. I commonly deal in potent poisons, but I can just as well deal in healing and comforting. I'm skilled in self-defense and various forms of magic, so I can be your companion to protect you from everything that would wish you harm. You know of my business in acting and singing, so even if you wanted nothing else I could be there to entertain or serenade you. I only wish to be with you again, even though I know I'm underserving. I'm selfish.
If you want nothing more, then I have to be satisfied knowing I was in your thoughts for a brief moment. A twisted part of me wants your mind to be plagued by thoughts of me, just as my mind and heart is full of you.
I have to remind myself, that by getting too close I risk being burnt. But, at this point, I do not care for my own safety. I only care for yours, and I do this to keep my sanity. I truly admire you so much, that I cannot adore you from afar behind a rope like sculpture in a museum. I have to stand nearby, inspect your beauty, polish you to a shine, and value you like the priceless treasure that you are. Should someone threaten to chip off even the slightest speck on you, forcing you through more suffering...
I will shatter them into a million pieces, to preserve your peace.
Yours,
Vil Schoenheit
The wonderful aromatic smell that filled your nose brought back some not so pleasant memories. The smell of the earth beneath your feet, the scent of dew collected on every still surface, but above all were fragrant tangs that immediately alerted you to any nearby presence of a student belonging to Pomefiore.
They had chased you through those deep dark woods, like a pack of rabid hounds tracking and hunting a poor wounded rabbit. Besides their shouts and footfall, their perfume gave them away. There was one in particular which you only caught a whiff of only when you had too closely encountered the dormleader. The scent of lavender and spice hit your nose, the same fragrance on the letter.
"That reeks! Burn it!" A certain feline hissed, covering his little black nose with his paws. You swore the fragrance was beginning to form a migraine at the front of your skull. If the smell was strong for you, it must've been much worse for Grim since he had a superior sense of smell.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if the smell wasn't that strong and it wasn't the particular scent. Like vanilla or freshly baked bread. If that were the case, Grim might've insisted on keeping it or even be tempted to take a bite out of the sheet.
But it was lavender and spice. So the letter was tossed into a corner several feet away, left to an unknown fate that you would ultimately decide later. When you glanced back to Grim, you saw him holding and sniffing another letter.
For a long moment his sniffed the rolled up paper, his black nose twitching as he was likely just searching for another gift to claim as a snack. After a few seconds, he discarded it, sliding it over to you before he opted to dig through the pile like a raccoon digging into a heap of trash. "Meh, this one smells boring."
"Boring, huh?"
Boring wouldn't exactly be your choice of adjectives to describe this letter. It wasn't an envelope, it was a scroll tied by ribbon, attached to an arrow. An arrow, of all things, was likely the messenger for this message. Thankfully, this one didn't smell of anything. Even without a fragrance to match to a profile, the arrow was a dead giveaway.
Opening it up and using your hands to smooth out the curled edges, you blatantly ignored the wax seal over the ribbon. Once it was fully unsealed, a few single flower petals drifted down from the paper. Just another mess you would sweep up later and decide whether to dispose of it or not, like the first letter from the dormleader. For this one you were a pinch anxious. The sender was not like the others who came before.
Trickster,
It relieves me to see that you are finally safe.
To see you rest and heal in tranquility, nothing steadies my anxiously beating heart more than knowing you are sheltered. Well guarded by a trio of ghosts and the courageous feline Grim, I have no need to stress over your wellbeing with them acting as your valiant knights in shining armor! Although, I would also wish to join their ranks, blessed by your grace and fit to serve as your shield. However...
I am conscious enough to know that I am nowhere near fitting, no matter how much I may wish to reach out and shield you from every evil. In that most vital moment, I had failed to recognize you. I may have spared you from the sharpness of my blade, but I couldn't have guarded you from the suffering that was to come afterwards.
I'm so deeply and truly sorry. Many sleepless nights have followed, since and even before our first fateful encounter in those woods of the Pomefiore estate. Before our encounter, I was conflicted. I wanted to detest you, but I could not, I thought there must be a reason this was all occurring. I couldn't slumber peacefully, so long as I knew there was turbulence surrounding your beloved vessel. After our encounter, I couldn't get the vision of you fragile, frightened, and wounded, out of my mind. Raising a blade against you, who were a stranger shrouded in infamy, made my very heart stop.
Now I know why I was so unexplainably drawn to you. It was not due to the wild frenzy that overtook the entire campus, or a burning hatred to destroy, or even my own desire to discover answers I desperately wanted, although that last one may have played a role. The reason as to I was so enticed by you, a cunning 'imposter,' was because my heart recognized you. It must have been my very soul that pulled me towards you, and perhaps my own nature as well. My body recognized you, my heart and my soul led me to you, but I was blinded by my sorrows.
Throughout the few years I've had on this wonderful earth, I've seen countless peoples, and you are unlike any of which I've seen. In the places I've been, I have witnessed poetry be written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage, and devoted worshippers in holy places kneel in solemn prayer. Somehow you as a single being, or entity, encompass all those elements into one. My aim is to admire beauty, and I see beauty in its finest form when I look at you.
I truly understand what you mean to me, and to others.
But at the same time, you remain a mystery. And I believe I'm speaking for all those who admire you when I say this. We could only dream of truly understanding you, when we only had Yuu.
So, I try to make sense of it all in what I do understand, in the beautiful things I adore that I associate with you who I cherish. In literature, music, photography, I see you in everything all at once. When I read poetic lines, I think I could share it with you. When I hear beautiful music, I imagine you might enjoy listening to the tune too. When I discover stunning sceneries, I plan to bring you there someday to share a moment with you.
Now, I can make sense of it. I understand how the poets of old felt as they penned the love and awe they felt towards the Fairest Queen. It's a rare sentiment that cannot easily be put into words, a feeling as if it held my delicate heart and squeezed when I so much as thought of you. When a song and its composer can bring an audience to tears, I understand that now too. Hearing your voice for the first time, formed a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying much. Catching that first glimpse of you, was like gazing at a perfect painted portrait hanging in a museum.
My dearest player, I am a Hunt. I am naturally inquisitive by nature, and my fondness for you comes just as naturally. You may consider it wrong, but I will continue to offer my loyalty even if you may not accept it.
My aim is to one day unlock your secrets, solve your mysteries, and understand you fully, learn what makes you tick and what drives you forward. Perhaps when the day comes when you've forgiven me for my crimes, I can proudly stand in your presence and recite the poems I have written in your name. I could admire you everyday from then on, and remind you everyday of your worth. Then, I will protect you, from all harm, and I will not allow myself to fail you once again. This is a promise.
Should you need me, I will be there.
Yours,
Rook Hunt
There was something that felt... off. Compared to some of the previous letters, these were rather tame. Of course, there was the desperation and fascination evident in their words captured by the ink, but it was nowhere near as extreme as other cases.
Although, it was still chilling, to read the thoughts they penned.
In your hand you held the arrow the letter had been connected to, feeling its thin shape and the sharpened head at its tip that nearly pricked your finger. The vice dormleader had excellent aim, and had he not been so kind, arrows like this one in your hand could've easily been driven through your flesh and caught you against a tree where you would've been helpless in their grasps.
And yet, despite the opportunities he had, he didn't let a single weapon touch you. All it would take was one arrow, one moment and he could've ended you where you stood. But he spared you. However, there's the lingering doubt that maybe the primary reason he did it was he hoped you had answers to the malfunctioning vessel. You couldn't be sure exactly why he spared you, when everyone had wanted to torment and imprison you or worse.
Beside you, there's a large crunch and a content purr. When you look over, there's Grim, happily munching away on an apple he held with his little paws. He sank his fangs into the fruit, content that he finally found an offering that appeased him. In front of him was a small basket, filled with more juicy red apples.
"These are great! And, even though I was the one who found them, I'll let you have some!" Grim picked up another apple from the basket, sticking his claws into the red peel and offering it with his little grin. Nevermind the fact that these were probably meant as a gift for you and not for him, but you didn't mind. They would have likely ended up in the trash anyways, at least someone could enjoy them.
"You should really have one. You haven't eaten all day."
"I'm not hungry, but thanks. You can have them." Ever since everything happened, you weren't too keen on accepting gifts, especially if they were consumable. For now, the only places you'd accept food from, was the cafeteria you'd venture too at the dead of night when no one was there, or Sam's shop.
In the spot of the basket where Grim had removed the apple, there was a white layer at the bottom of the basket. Perplexed, you reached in and found an envelope hidden by the piled apples.
Unsurprisingly, the envelope smelled of sweet things, apples, cinnamon, and freshly baked pies. The envelope itself was nothing special, it had no intricate wax seal or marking. It was loosely sealed shut by a brown piece of string, and covered in some white and pink apples blossoms.
The inside was less impressive, more authentic, which was refreshing in a way. Smooth cursive flowed into slightly choppy print scrawled out in uneven lines, before eventually returning back to cursive at the end of some sentences. It appears parts were rushed judging by the blotted ink stains at multiple periods. The apples were a clue as to who the sender may be, but why would the letter be hidden in a gift?
Dear Player,
If you're reading this, that means my letter got through.
Where do I even start? It seems right that I first say sorry. I'm sorry. It sounds like a load of bull, but I am sorry. Apologizing in all these other ways, won't make this any better, so, I thought this might help. I'm gonna be completely honest with you, no lies, no tricks, just the blunt truth. I'm not going to be showing you these pretty sides I polished to impress and to mask all the ugly. I'll tell you everything that's been going on. That's something only I have the guts to do.
The reason I hid this letter was because Vil and Rook have been checking anything I want to write to you. They want to keep up this positive front, they wanna at least pretend to be perfect enough to be near you. At least, that's what I think. Although I know we won't ever come close to that.
Instead of trying to write a real and honest letter for you, it feels like I was writing some essay for Professor Trein to grade. I'd have to write and write, and even if the grammar was right, the message wasn't. They want to make you think everything's okay, when it's not. I can only imagine what elegant crap they were spewing in their own fancy letters, while we're actually all a mess. We've been like this since Yuu broke down. I try to understand them, and in a way I do, but sometimes they freak me out. Yeah, I got my own problems trying to comprehend all this chaos, but they're different.
Is everyone else in the other dorms this extreme? This miserable and on the verge of breaking? Maybe you won't believe me, or maybe you'll realize that there's some truth to what I'm saying. Here, in Pomefiore, I can only tell you what I've seen. These days, Rook's smile seems strained, like he's about to snap, his eyes are sharp and watchful. The only time his smile is normal is when he's looking at some photo, but he won't ever let me see what it is. Vil, well, the only sign he's still alive and kicking are the packages that come in for him, new makeup and all that stuff, things he's using to craft that perfect mask. I did see him one night out in the hall, I swear there was mascara down his face but I was too put off to approach when he was like that.
Don't ever tell them I told you all this. Vil would probably skin me alive and wear me as a robe, and Rook... I don't want to think about what he would do... I'm kidding by the way, but seriously, don't ever tell them. I told you I would be honest to you, so here's my reason. I thought that maybe telling you all this would score me points with you, get you to trust me again. Even if this is a rotten way to go about it, I don't care.
I am rotten, and I won't hide it like them.
If I can't even be honest with you, then do I really deserve a second chance at all?
Scratch that. I don't deserve a second chance at all after everything that happened. What I did was downright terrible, but I'm trying my damnedest to be deserving again. And I won't stop trying, even if part of me thinks it's useless. I never cared for Yuu, the only reason I acted for them was because it was you behind them. My goal is to eventually be beside you, the real you.
Although, a basket of apples is a crummy way to go about things, but think of it like a peace offering. Just cause I can't get word to you, don't mean I give up. I'm not giving up. Ever. Everyone's going about their own roundabout ways of mending things. If you want to hear more, I'll gladly tell you. I don't think anyone else would tell you the truth of what's happening, because in a sense everyone wants to appeal to you with the best image of themselves they can possible portray. Don't believe all the hogwash they send you. If whoever sends something and seems to be stable, they're not. Not completely.
I'm awfully ashamed to admit it, but I'm not okay. Not since everything started, and not since everything went to hell when shit hit the fan. I'm not okay without you, and I got myself to blame for that.
This letter is helping. The thought of communicating with you again, even if I can't see your face or hear your voice and its reduced to words on paper, it's more than I could ask for. So, if you want me to spill the beans, just ask. If not, if there's no response, well, I'll get a bit of comfort thinking you might've read this. Besides, I have hope with each attempt I'll make. I'm not just rottenly selfish, I'm stubborn to a fault. And if I have to knock down someone else's chances to get closer, then that's fine by me.
All you gotta do is talk to me.
Until then, hoping to speak to you soon,
Epel Felmier
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