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antiloreolympus · 3 years

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7 Anti LO Asks

1. Do you know what really gets my blood boiling about this comic? Persephone and Demeter's relationship.

In the myths, Demeter and Persephone loved each other more than anything. Their reunion is so important - it marked the coming of spring and growth. A whole cult was dedicated to this for crying out loud. Yes, the myths were far from perfect, but the Persephone and Demeter myth showed the strength of a loving mother-daughter relationship with Demeter searching endlessly to find her child that was ripped away and had her innocence forcibly taken.

Now, RS is not the only author to make Demeter this over-bearing mother type in order to put more positivity onto the Hades-Persephone relationship. However, RS takes this trend to a whole new level - to the point where I would even consider it misogyny.

How is it, she takes this beautiful mother-daughter relationship and makes it out to be an abusive and controlling one, and then takes the Hades-Persephone relationship from a forceful one to a loving, perfect relationship with no problems? How is it ok to ruin one relationship to elevate another?

I understand that many versions of the myth try to downplay Hades' actions, and even make it so Persephone actually falls in love with him and there is no rape. But it doesn't change that this relationship was problematic, and meant to represent the loss of innocence.

Then fans have the gall to claim this comic is feminist and then claim on top of that that Demeter and Persephone's relationship was the same in the myth? These fans clearly don't know the myths, and neither does RS.

Making Hades a good person is fine. Changing it up a bit to make Persephone's loss of innocence something else is also fine. But ruining Demeter and Persephone's relationship? Especially when Persephone has to spend half the year with her? So horrible.

2. im sorry, but rachel cant introduce KRONOS coming back and then dropping it for several episodes to focus on a stake-less trail and persephone not knowing what lingerie to seduce hades in. like thats too much of an earth shaking development and huge stake plot point to just ignore for months to focus instead on something as minor as hxp's relationship, which only points out a huge flaw: why is hxp's relationship so minor in this? isnt the whole point supposed to be about them?

3. I think LO completely dropped the ball over Hades’ characterization.

From the first ep I thought ok, this is good, we have some bones to see he’s not that lucky in love and is just tired and lonely, and while ignoring the creepy actions towards Persephone, I thought ok, Artemis hates him, Hestia hates, even Ares hates him, maybe once Persephone finally sees the underworld and probably gets to know him it’ll be a clever twist and they’ll be proven wrong. The underworld will turn out to be fair and just, the citizens will love Hades, he’ll be revealed to be a good leader and king and not like his brothers, it’ll be like everyone saying Hades of myth isn’t actually that bad, and it’ll help reinforce why this sweet and bubbly Persephone wants him, she sees the real him, not the mean rumors and assumptions, this is perfect.

And then it just didn’t happen. The exact opposite happened, actually.

We’re shown the LO underworld is cruel and unjust, where the poor dead are forced into slavery and Hades created a harsh class divide with him and him only on top, the citizens hate him, the underworld gods don’t trust him and openly seem ok if he’s taken out of power, he’s not a good leader and king and doesn’t even want the job yet keeps it for his own ego and grip of power m, and on top of it all he is just like his brothers, if not worse. He loves to get violent over any little slight against him, he hoards wealth and resources to enrich himself while his citizens starve and struggle to survive, he’s corrupt, he controls all the media and laws to bend to his will, sleeps with his brothers wife for centuries behind his back while claiming to be holier than thou, he has sex with his secretaries who are made dependent on him for any way to survive, and now he lusts after his barely legal intern who is also now dependent on him for her way to survive, and that’s only what I remember off the top of my head.

LO perfectly set up to prove Hades isn’t the devil or the false pop culture assumption that he’s evil and to show some actual facts from myth, and yet Rachel only ended up reinforcing exactly that and even making him even worse with her made up ideas, all while thinking having Persephone ignore or excuse it somehow makes it not bad or even a good thing. It’s honestly kind of impressive just how bad of writing that actually is.

4. Chapter 172 is not that interesting. It’s setup had me excited to see Hephaestus and Hera and learning more about echo, but it’s cut so short. Because again the story can’t leave HXP out for 2 seconds.

I can also see why Zeus is gonna go insane.

5. i agree w/ other anon. LO should have pulled a PJO or a BoZ and just made up OCs and have them interact with the gods than whatever Rachel thinks shes doing, which is lying she's being accurate and faithful while completely changing all of it, removing what is needed, and adding what isnt so that it lines up with no actual myth besides like, various 50 shades fanfic she read in 2015 and some popular tumblr text posts.

6 . the animation studio behind blood of zeus literally can only draw one face for the men and one face for the women and they were still able to make the gods all look distinct and hot while LO can't even bother to use more than 6 colors and can only have the women look as tiny as possible with the biggest boobs while the men are all just lego men.

7. ////FP SPOILERS////

Okay so like I stopped reading LO way back before season 1 ended, and a majority of my knowledge of the series comes from what I read here on your blog which is enough for me lol and I decided to read the latest 5 chapters just to see what's up (on zahard. I refuse to give the actual series any views)

And I just. Could not take the whole scene with Daphne running from Apollo seriously? The anatomy and art inconsistency was so distracting that i genuinely could not find it serious. Even when Thanatos discovers her hibernated body I couldn't take it seriously because of how she looked?

And when Hades had that call (??? Was it a call? Or his inner dialogue? I couldn't really tell ngl) with Zeus and said he's causing Persephone unnecessary distress, and that she didn't pose any threat. B!tch??? She killed a ton of mortals??? She has no control over her powers???? She's literally a fugitive for the aforementioned things??? She apparently woke Kronos up? (Idk if anyone knows about that, again my knowledge only spans to whatever I read here) Hello????

And I have a lot to say about the chapters starting the trial but I'll only mention one thing; Hades saying "I don't think blindly supporting my little brother would be doing him any favours (as a ruler)" had me cackling. This is coming from a guy blindly supporting a girl he's literally only known for a few weeks, who's like what, only recently turned 20? Sit tf down Hades you're not cool, you creepy ass overgrown smurf.

Overall I still hate this series lmao. Regarding art though I feel like I wouldn't be so miffed about the anatomy much if the character designs were consistent and the story was compelling. They literally change hairstyles and body types frame by frame, and it's distracting.

The timeline from what I read here is laughable. 4 years in publication with almost 200 chapters and you're telling me only like a month has passed canonically. That's wild and such poor writing.

And as someone who literally will sympathise with any lead character pretty quickly, the story makes me hate them. It makes me want to root against them. I also hate the fact this trash is somehow top ranked on webtoons when so many other stories are far better then it.

Anyway, many thanks to this blog for existing and allowing me to dump so much text here to vent out my hate for this series lmao. You the mvp fam, hope you're having a good day 🥂🥂🥂

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

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egcdeath · 3 years

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checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;)

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me.

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in.

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there.

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy.

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise.

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was.

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy.

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now.

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what.

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup.

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another.

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you.

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side.

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent.

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t.

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale.

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you.

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries.

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared.

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper.

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home.

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance.

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell.

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious.

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.”

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat.

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case.

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you.

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times.

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm.

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall.

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat.

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…”

You nodded again.

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly.

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted.

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!”

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement.

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less.

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless.

You finally won.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #dark!reader #ransom drysdale x dark!reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey x you #knives out #knives out fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

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salty-cs · 2 years

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i'm so beyond angry. i am nio's partner, who was literally living with them at the time of those incredibly FAKE 'screenshots'. this was probably the same person who made false accusations previously for no reason. we're at a loss for a reason bc he's never done anything to make anyone hate him, in his words between tears this morning after all this "i just wanna draw silly animals".

nio literally didn't even use discord during 2020 because of some specific trauma that made him unable to open the website without anxiety, and i remember the exact date in the photos because we had just moved in together and on that day we were out all day and night every minute together.

to op, you are a vile disgusting awful human being to make fun of something so serious, something that nio themselves went through as as a child and it hurts them to see that happen to anyone else.

also op wouldnt be stupid enough to call the police because they know itd take them 2 seconds to figure out its fake and track their location lol.

to the people who have blocked nio from discords, i completely understand as victims should be believed, but in this case said 'victim' is not a victim, nio is. please reconsider, nio is completely destroyed, i woke up to a bed full of tears. chicken smoothie was his only safe place, his only happy place, this is going to destroy what's left of his mental health and it is breaking my heart to see and i am so so angry at the disgusting excuse of a human who would do this to someone for absolutely no reason at all probably just for laughs????

please feel free to message me here or on discord dani#0205 to talk about this. i am a CSA victim myself and it disgusts me to see someone lie about it so easily and it especially makes me angry to see someone put that on the most perfect, kindest, gentlest, respectful, beautiful human being I have ever and will ever meet.

there needs to be repercussions for this person if at all possible to track them admins

#mod python #cs users #off anon #lgbtdani

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theodora3022 · 4 years

Note

Since you wrote about Yandere Villians with Y/N having a cute fairy quirk, how about a Yandere Hero having a Y/N with a monstrous quirk? SO...you pick the hero! Pick any male hero who you believe can handle Y/N. You do such amazing writing.

Y/N have to wear a face mask to hide the muzzle she wears going outside. Y/N have a quirk where she goes on a frenzy. Her eyes turn red, her veins pop out of her skin, she starts growling and trying to bite anyone near by. A monster who craves to rip flesh and bones. Y/N can turn on her quirk if she feels so much anger or fear. Y/N doesn't want to hurt anyone. She wants to live a quiet and alone life.

Wolf

Pairing: Best Jeanist x f!reader

Warnings: light yandere content, power abuse, threats

Thank you so much for the compliment, dear anon! I went soft with the monster idea that I just made the reader into a werewolf...hope it is still good! I was torn between Kiri and Best Jeanist! I really like Best Jeanist, I wish he got some more screen time ... Maybe I’ll do another one for the shark boy later.

Some groundwork:

When your quirk manifested at four years old, you were not surprised: you come from a family of Mutant quirks, after all.

Your quirk, wolf, means you can transform into a wolf anytime. The longevity is unknown to you since you barely use it. Even in your normal human form, you still have wolf ears and tail. You also have a sensitive nose, just like canines. You (hair color) fluffy fur is the same color as your hair. In acient times, before quirks become a thing, you would be seen as a werewolf.

While transformed, it is hard to supress the wolf’s wild instincts, the desire to hunt, to kill and consume raw meat (extremely difficult if you are hungry). You hate it, being like a beast instead of human. You had outbursts in the past that nearly killed one of your friends. There fore you stay in human at all times.

So most of the time, you just kept a muzzle near you, just in case you would lose yourself to the beast again.

You always feel this...strange sense of difference between you and normal people, so all of your friends have mutant quirks. You kept your social circle small, only letting those who are deemed trustworthy close to you (you told them to run if they see any signs of you getting wild)

You always had a soft spot for animals, therefore you decided to work in a pet shop. Dogs especially loves you, maybe because your canine quirk. Cats not so much, as they had left quite a few marks on you when you just started.

Now you are the assistant manager, the salary is decent, so you do not look for anything more. You never thought of having a romantic relationship because you do not trust yourself: you do not want to hurt the person you love. So even if you had crushes you just kept those feelings hidden until they went away.

Best Jeanist/Tsunagu Hakamada

Did you know his favorite animal is wolf? Therefore he is a furry

Being the No.4 pro hero means taking on lots of stress, so Tsunagu decides to have an animal friend at home who he can talk to freely, without worrying leaking information (I mean how can animals pass on information).

He went into the nearest pet shop, hoping to find a furry companion, preferably dogs.

What he did not expect is to find you there, with those literal puppy eyes and fluffy ears sticking out of your hair, tending to the puppies.

Tsunagu met people with similar quirks before, and he finds them aesthetically pleasing. But seeing you with a litter of adorable puppies, laughing and petting them? He felt like his heart just melted.

“Hello sir. How may I help you today?” You put on your usual smile. Tsunagu is wearing his civilian clothes, so he is just another customer to you. A fashionable one, though. You took notice at his stylish blonde hair.

Tsunagu would ask you about all the options for adopting a puppy. However he is only half-listening: he is drawn to how your ears twitch towards any abnormal sounds...

“Oh, my ears? Sorry if they are distracting. It’s part of my quirk.”

Would get you to talk to him as much as possible, with lots of polite questions.

When you bid him good day as he walks out the door, holding a poodle puppy with its supplies, Tsunagu is determined to see you more.

You are warm, like a ray of sunlight in this stormy world. Having worked as a pro hero for so long, dealing with many negative things so often, make him attracted to positive people. Those furry wolf ears and tail only added to his admiration.

Whenever Best Jeanist is not needed at his agency, Tsunagu Hakamada would find excuses to drop by your shop. Whether it be buying new accessories for his puppy or simply need some advice on her, he would find a way to talk to you, to hear your voice.

Until he become acquainted with you enough, Tsunagu finally asked for you name.

“I’m (y/n), and you, sir?” “Tsunagu. Tusnagu Hakamada.”

Never have once you associated your friendly customer with the No.4 Pro hero of Japan. Tsunagu is charismatic and talkative (at least to you), never putting on airs like Endeavor. Since he wears a mask, the public does not have a good idea what he looks like.

Then you noticed those small gestures, how Tsunagu’s hands would “unintentionally” brush against yours when you hand over his paid items, how his body would lean in slightly towards you whenever you are talking. Or how his lips would curl upwards whenever your tails wags with excitement. You also seen him way more frequently compare to average customers.

“He got a crush on you.” One of you co workers, teases after Tsunagu left the store.

“No he doesn’t.” You blush, although considering her hypothesis.

You seen some of his clothes in fashion magazines, one of them costs more then your monthly salary. Tsunagu is clearly a rich man, a fashion designer perhaps.

“Ms.(y/n), sorry if this sounds intrusive, but do you have a lover?”

That was...unexpected. “No, I do not. Why did you ask, Mr. Hakamata?”

That saves him trouble. Best Jeanist has got this flawless reputation for years, he prefers not to taint it. But if he must, Tsunagu would not hesitate. You belong with him, and him only. “Well, it’s possible such a beautiful lady like you already has a significant other.”

“Mr. Hakamata...I-” You were not sure to blush or to smile. Now it is clear to you: This blonde is interested in you. However you do not know what to respond.

“Call me Tsunagu, please.”

The next day you would find a lily bouquet wrapped in denim on the store counter?! Who use that as a bouquet wrapper? Flatter as you are, you still find this unsettling. He did not show up for the rest of the day, which gives you time to think.

Tsunagu is handsome and kind. He seems like a perfect choice, but you wonder what he would say if he saw you as a bloodthirsty wolf, feral and hungry for killing.

You decide to turn him down, not wanting to give him false hope.

Some minor villain is causing trouble in the streets when you were walking home. You were just going to sprint away at first, but in the corner of your eye you saw a mother with her toddler daughter being corner by the villain. The way the mother tries to protect her child triggered something in you. You have to do something!

“Grr!!!” Suddenly a piece of flesh is ripped off the villain’s leg. The villain screams in pain, but you dodged every last one of his attacks while leaving deep bite marks on him. Soon the sidewalk is stained crimson with blood. You know the two had already gotten away, you should stop now. But the wolf instincts got the better of you. You crave blood, lots of it. The growing pool under you is not enough.

You heard police sirens, someone yelling for you to stop, but the wolf is not willing to. It seems it would not be satiated unless this villain dies a brutal death.

Streams of fibers wrapped around you, restraining you until you cannot move anymore.

When you regained consciousness, you were in a clean jail cell, still in your wolf form. You assumed that you are being confined in a hero agency since you just lost control.

The door cracked. It is Tsunagu! What is he doing here? And why is he wearing a jean mask?

Then you saw the rest of his outfit. Demin jeans suit from head to toe, the...the No.4?

He is Best Jeanist? What is happening now?

Tsunagu wanted to take things slow, he wanted to date you normally, letting you know everything about him, but this seems like too good of an oppertunity to pass up.

“(y/n), can you understand me?” He crouches down with a concerned look on his face.

You nod. You are not able to speak human languages while in wolf form, another draw back.

“Do your clothes come back when you transform? Or do you need some clothes?”

You left your clothes behind a dumpster before, so you just shook your head. If you were to transform now, it could be quite embarrassing.

Handing you a denim dress, Best Jeanist leaves to give you some privacy to change.

After you are dressed and back in human form, he took you to his office.

“I know you must have lots of question right now, but please allow me to explain somethings first.”

“The villain is in bad shape. You did quite a bit damage on him. His blood loss is immense; he is still in the ICU as we speak.”

Why don’t you just let him die, he’s a threat to society anyway. You ask yourself, silently.

“However, while he is a villain, you still hurt him too much. And it’s not even self-defence. You are not a hero, it’s illegal.”

You tense up. Would you face charges for this? For trying to protect other people.

“Would I go to Tartarus? For how long?”

“Oh, come now. As long as I have any say , I won’t allow that to happen.” Your eyes lit up, wanting to thank him.

“You can be my wife instead. Stay with me, and no charges would be pressed.”

What?

You know he likes you, but just asking to become his wife like that? Without dating first.

“Tsunagu, I... you...this...” He finds your stutters cute, as he traces his fingers along the edge of your wolf ears. Best Jeanist had been wanting to do that for so long, he worked so hard to restrain himself.

“Your choice. Either face court charges, or you can be with me, all is well.”

Tsunagu Hakamada is confident about his chances. An innocent, adorable civilian like you will not last long even in the most outer cells of Tartarus.

Tears slides down your chin as you give a reclutant reply. “I’ll...be with you.”

Who could have thought Tsunagu would do such a thing? He is always so nice and friendly. But now here he is, threatening you with this crime?

“Perfect.” Snapping a denim collar around your neck, he lifts your chin, forcing you to look up to him. “I can’t wait to get you home; you would be such a lovely little wolf. My little wolf.”

“Should you ever try to leave me, I’m sure Tartarus is always avaliable.”

#yandere bnha #bnha #bhna best jeanist #yandere best jeanist #bnha reader insert #best jeanist

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memoir-of-the-girl-who-lived · 4 years

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How did I overcome BPD?

Most people think that the term “overcome” is the same thing as “beat, cured, recovered from”, and the truth is, I overcame BPD, yes. But I am not cured, not even remotely. But BPD no longer controls my everyday life. I have BPD but I am not BPD.

So how did I do it? How did I go from the girl collapsed on the bottom of her shower, sobbing uncontrollably wishing I was dead? The girl who couldn��t get out of bed, refusing to eat, refusing to move, refusing to live.. How did I go from that girl, to a girl with dreams? A girl with a promising future. How is that possible?

For me, and I say for me with the utmost importance because this will not be the answer for everyone-- for me it was all a matter of will power, mind over matter. What irony it is to say “mind over matter” when literally it is an illness of the mind.. But the reality of it is simply, you cannot help someone who does not wish to help themselves. So, the first step, is admitting to yourself that you have a sick brain, that in having a sick brain was no fault of your own. Whether it was a matter of genetics or a matter of environment, it was no fault of your own. You did not do this to yourself. Do not blame yourself for being the way you are. Now, taking that last statement into account.. Do not blame yourself for being the way you are, however, hold yourself accountable for the things you do as a result, what you put into the world. Do not use your illness as an excuse for:

The way you treat someone

The way you treat yourself

The choices you make

The actions you choose

You are not your illness, you have an illness. Therefore, your illness is not an excuse, for better lack of words, for doing shitty things.

The next step I took was the hardest step. By this point in my life I had been pumped so full of toxic information and standards that it was damn near impossible to sort through what was considered, “Harmful false information” and “Neutral factual information”. For example, I am a young woman, the standards set for me as a society are “Slender and toned, flawless skin, tall (but not too tall), perfect teeth, tan, and oozing sexual appeal.” And what did the world deal me out? “Chubby with average muscles, far from flawless skin, short, wonky teeth, pale, and and over jazzed sex drive.”

I struggled with anorexia, bulimia, dismorphia (BDD), on top of my undiagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). So, tell me, how the hell was I supposed to overcome THAT? Looking in the mirror led to panic attacks, fits of sobbing, you name it. I would refused to leave the house, I would bounce between wearing clothes that fit me just fine and looked nice on me, to ripping them off in a fit of disgust and shoving them into the back of my closet because they “made me look fat”, settling on an over sized hoodie instead. There would be days were I would change my clothes 5 or more times a day, just because everything I put on would send me into a full blown panic attack over my appearance.

So, with something as sever as this.. Something that controlled my life so violently for so long.. How did I go about overcoming that?

Quiet simply.. Well, simple to say, not so much in doing.. I changed the words I used, first for myself, then towards others.

Fat/Chubby became Thicc (with two c’s) or curvy. Pale skin became soft, gentle skin. My plain brown hair became chocolate curls. My boring brown eyes became pools of honey in light. My “thicker” body parts became soft curves to rest cheeks against.

The language we direct towards ourselves is the hardest thing to change. There were many times I would be looking in a mirror, feeling the disgust and creeping thoughts coming. Out of my mouth would come “Oh god, I look so gross today..” and quickly following this, out loud to myself I would snap, “Shut up. That’s not true and you know it.”

I would try on an outfit, feeling myself cringe away at how wide I looked, how uncomfortable it made me feel being so.. big. And then I would force myself to re-imagine what I just said, instead turning “I look so.. big” into “I look so thicc! Damn, girl, look at this voluptuous curves!” And then I would make a show of it, twist and turning in the mirror, getting all the angles. I started whispering the words to myself, reminding myself of the new vocabulary I was developing for myself. I then turned those words out into the world. Complimenting people on their appearance in any way I could think of. Their lipstick, their clothes, their hair, their choice of jewelry, their smile, their perfume. Anything. This also helped me a lot with my social anxiety (because lord knows that was also a huge problem for me). But in the end, the reward of seeing someone light up at the mention of a compliment made it all so worth it. Imagine when someone compliments you, how good you feel? The feeling is just like that when you pay a compliment.

Following my new use of vocabulary to combat my own struggles with appearance and inner worth, I began to change the way I thought about my attitude. Whenever I would feel my mood shifting, or I would suddenly have a jump in emotion, I would think to myself, “Is this actually me, or is this my BPD acting up again?” And chances are, it was my BPD acting up again. The more honest with myself I was, the better I began to feel. The second I was able to identify what the root of my feeling was, I was able to take a step back and say, “This will pass. Just give it time.”

What are some other methods I used and still use? Here’s a simple list that maybe you can take into practice:

Meditation

Journaling

Dream journal

Therapy

Calling errands “adventures” (Going grocery shopping? Adventure. Getting coffee? Adventure. Running to the mall? Going on an adventure.)

Organizing and removing clutter (A cluttered life equals a cluttered mind-- Check out Marie Kondo for inspiration)

Art of any kind (Clay, paint, photography, writing, drawing)

Yoga

Exercise! (It’s been proven that working out actually releases endorphins in the brain, so getting sweaty can actually make you happier!)

Good sex

Doing one thing a week (eventually try one small thing a day!) that you never would have done before (Example: hike a mountain, lay in the grass and read a book, watch the clouds, check out a new coffee shop, go into a store you’ve passed by a million times but never went into, compliments a stranger).

Make plans (and keep them even if when the time comes you feel awful mentally, you never know what a night out can do for you).

Start a blog to bring awareness to your mental illness.

I struggle with BPD daily, and yes I do still have episodes from time to time, but I can say with the utmost confidence that I finally have control of my illness.

#bpd #living with bpd #bpd stuff #bpd things #awareness #depression #recovery #mental illness awareness #mental illnes

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cali-holland · 5 years

Text

The Girl in the Cafe- Shawn Mendes One Shot

Pairing: Shawn Mendes X Reader

Prompt: When Shawn first sees you in a cafe, he falls in love… and then he meets you later that night via your friend Tom Holland

Word Count: 2100

Based On: Nervous by Shawn Mendes

Masterlist Shawn Mendes Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

It was like any other Sunday for Shawn. When he casually stopped for a drink in a cafe, he didn’t expect his world to change. He ordered his drink as usual and waited for his name. He smiled to himself and kept his head low as one of his own songs came on the radio.

“Oh my God I love this song.” Your voice rang through his ears despite you being across the room from him. He looked over at you to see that you were talking on the phone while sipping on a coffee. You through your head back laughing at whatever the other person had said, “It’s Shawn Mendes, c’mon.”

Shawn felt his heart flutter as you said his name. He was always happy to see people reacting positively to his songs, but this time it was different. He had never seen anyone like you before and he couldn’t help himself from wanting to know you more. He wanted to know who this beautiful girl in the cafe was.

His name was called by the barista and he snapped away from his thoughts. As he grabbed his drink, he started thinking of ways to strike up a conversation with you. He turned back to look at you, but you were already gone.

It was then and there that he accepted that he’d never see you again, at least that’s what he thought.

Meanwhile, you had been sitting in the coffee shop, waiting on your best friend to show up. You had already ordered your coffee, to-go thankfully, when he called you.

“Tom, I swear if you bail out on me again.” You sighed as you answered your phone.

“I know, I know. I’m making it up to you thought, I promise. Are you free tonight?” He asked.

“Weren’t we planning on hanging out tonight?” You replied, wondering why he’d ask if you were free when you already had plans with him.

“Oh yeah, you’re right. I didn’t forget about it, it slipped my mind for the time being.”

“Sure.” You said as your favorite Shawn Mendes song came on the radio, “Oh my God, I love this song.” You smiled even though Tom couldn’t hear it.

“What song?”

“It’s Shawn Mendes, c’mon.” You laughed, playfully rolling your eyes at him.

“Anyway, I was going to say, you should come over to my hotel right now because there’s no way I can get passed the fans to the cafe.”

“Okay, okay, I’m on my way.” You grabbed all of your things and hung up the phone, making your way out the door to see him.

~~~

“You really got us tickets to Shawn Mendes tonight? You mean the Shawn Mendes?” You asked, your eyes practically coming out of your head as you spoke.

“Yeah, I know you really like him so I even got us backstage passes and floor seats.” Tom grinned proudly. Your smile grew even wider as you gave him a massive hug.

“Thank you so much, you’re incredible.”

“I know, I’m pretty amazing.” He teased.

“I need to go get ready. I don’t even know what to wear.” You said, starting to plan out a perfect concert outfit.

“You’ll be fine in whatever you wear.” Tom laughed.

“Have you met him before or no?” You asked.

“Never, but I’ve heard he’s a pretty cool guy. Z’s met him a couple of times.”

“Ah, I’m so excited.” You did a little happy dance, eager to finally go to one of Shawn’s concerts.

~~~

“This is absolutely wild, Tom.” You said in awe, as you walked beside him in the arena.

“You’re getting so excited about this, I feel like I should be jealous.” Tom teased you.

“Oh can your masculinity not handle me liking Shawn Mendes?” You quipped back. Despite your loving dynamic with Tom, the two of you had established long ago that you were friends and nothing more, absolutely nothing more. It was a set deal on both sides.

“You can wait here.” The member of the event staff told you as you two followed them into an open room with some couches in it.

“Thank you.” You and Tom replied in sync before taking your seats, waiting to meet him.

~~~

For Shawn, he couldn’t stop thinking about your smile, your laugh, your everything. He felt so out-of-body all day; he just wanted to know who you were.

“Shawn, Tom Holland’s here.” His manager told him.

“Thanks.” Shawn nodded. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of his dressing room to greet his guests.

“Hey, guys.” He said, smiling as he walked up to you and Tom. When you looked up at him, he felt his heart skip a beat. It was you, the one he couldn’t get off of his mind.

“Hey, I’m Tom, and this is my friend, Y/N. It’s so great to finally meet you.” Tom smiled, introducing the two of you.

“Well, I’m Shawn.” He laughed. He forced himself to draw his gaze away from you and to Tom. “Thank you so much for coming to the show.”

“I absolutely love your music, so it was a very nice surprise that Tom got tickets.” You explained. The way he looked at you, you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks.

“Really? I hope I don’t let you down then. Today’s been super long, so I hope the show is amazing for you guys.” He paused for a moment, feeling himself getting consumed in your eyes. He sharply turned to Tom, “I love your work by the way. You’re a fantastic Spider-Man.”

“Thanks man. I feel really validated by that.” Tom replied. Shawn’s breath caught in his throat as he tried to come up with something else to say to you- he just wanted to know everything about you, but that was too much to ask for at this moment.

“Shawn, you’ve gotta rehearse.” His manager called him away.

“That will be my cue.” He laughed lightly, “Do you guys want to grab drinks after the show?”

“Sure,” You answered for both of you.

“Okay, great, I’ll- I’ll see you later.” Shawn said with a goofy grin on his face. As he walked away, he turned back around to see you one last time before you left. The only thoughts racing through his brain were to put on the best show of his life and that he was more than nervous about seeing you after the show.

~~~

“Look at you go.” Tom said playfully as you two went to find your seats.

“What are you on about?” You asked.

“Shawn was so into you.” He replied, raising his eyebrows at you in disbelief of your obliviousness.

“Now you’re just saying that to make me feel better. I literally said like two words to him. He probably thinks I don’t actually care.” You reasoned, freaking out on the inside over your first impression.

“Y/N, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you and he asked us out to drinks. I don’t think he wants to talk to me at all.” Tom explained. A short laugh followed his statement as you shook your head in denial. There was no way you’d let yourself believe in this false hope.

The concert began and you were more than happy to be a part of the audience. You knew that you should probably control yourself since fans would definitely be filming Tom once they realized where he was, but you couldn’t hide your wide smile as Shawn came on.

Little did you know that Shawn did his best to make his performance even better than usual, exaggerating all of his guitar movements and suggestive dance moves. He wanted you to be impressed by it at all costs.

~~~

After the show, the three of you met up to go grab drinks down the street from Shawn’s hotel. Hearing Tom’s words in your head, you began to notice more of Shawn’s movements. He always stood next to you, he was always close to you. He barely even looked at Tom the whole night. You allowed yourself to be fully immersed in Tom’s outlandish idea because it’s just one night, right?

Lost in your thoughts, you excused yourself to the bathroom to go process everything, leaving Tom alone with Shawn.

“So,” Shawn said awkwardly, “are you and Y/N-”

“Just friends, mate.” Tom let out a laugh as he watched the Canadian sigh in relief. “Your heart eyes for her are really obvious by the way.”

“I thought I was playing it cool.” He stated, biting his lip as he thought of what you might be thinking, “Has she said anything about me before?”

“You are literally her favorite singer. She’s always listening to your music- I found her crying once over your song.”

“Are you being serious?” Shawn asked in disbelief.

“Yeah. She also thinks you’re hot so you’ve got that for you.”

“She thinks I’m hot?” He smiled to himself, content with the compliment from you. “I’m not rambling too much, am I? My hands are shaking, I’m so nervous.”

“You’re fine.” Tom laughed. He was so used to seeing the media’s composed version of Shawn- he never suspected the singer to lose it over his best friend.

“Sorry about that.” You smiled, returning to your seat.

“You know what, I realized I have to get going. I’ve got an interview bright and early in the morning so I should get some sleep.” Tom said. You bit back your laugh as you recalled he had literally also made plans with you for tomorrow morning- also known as he was getting you coffee this time.

“Bye, see you tomorrow.” You stated.

“Nice meeting you.” Shawn told him as Tom walked away.

“I should probably go too. You’ve got to be exhausted.”

“I’m fine. You do something every night and it just stops phasing you, you know?” He paused, “But if you want, I could take you home.”

“I’d like that.” You said. He got up and led you out of the bar. “My flat’s just a couple blocks away. Are you okay walking?”

“Of course.” Shawn replied as you two started on your way. It was silent for a few moments before he spoke up, “Are you cold?” “A little, but-”

“Here.” He immediately shrugged off his jacket and handed it over to you. “Sorry, that was kind of abrupt.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” You replied, “You know, you’re different than I thought you’d be.”

“Is that a good different?” He asked hopefully.

“Yeah, it is.” You nodded. You were around the corner from your place when it started to rain outside and you let out a small shriek, “That’s unexpected.”

“How far away is your flat?”

“Just up here.” A couple more steps and the two of you were in front of your building. “Do you want to come inside?”

“Right now?” His voice cracked a bit as he thought about your question.

“No, you have to wait out here for ten minutes and then you can come in- of course, right now.” You laughed. He smiled, loving the sound of your laugh echoing in his ears. He nodded and you led him inside to your flat.

“This is me.” You said, “Do you want to wait for the rain to clear up?” You tried not to make it sound like an excuse to spend more time with him, but that’s all you wanted right now.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.” He followed you into your place as you unlocked the door. It got quiet for a moment as he admired your quaint living room.

“It’s not a penthouse suite but it’s home.” You smiled and he turned to you with a matching grin on his face.

“I like it. It’s nice.” Shawn didn’t seem to know what to say, it’s like he was at a loss for words. You were about to speak, but he cut you off, “I like you. I- I think you’re nice.”

“Thank you.” You blushed, stepping closer to him. You jokingly added, “I think you’re nice too.”

“I really want to kiss you right now.” His words were delicate as he spoke.

“Then why don’t you do it?” You suggested. He smiled leaning down and finally kissing you. You swore your heart did a backflip as Shawn felt the butterflies in his stomach flutter. He was glad he got to see the beautiful girl in the cafe again.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes x reader

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keichanz · 5 years

Text

Smooth

I’m not even kidding when I say this literally came out of absolutely freakin’ nowhere while I was at work today and I just had to write it sooo here, have this funny little oneshot that I had so much fun writing lol

Smooth talking Inuyasha is smooth as fuck and honestly i want him to do naughty things to me lajdf;ajfi okay soRRY HERE’S THE STORY

“Hey there, gorgeous. How about a smile? Bet you’ll look even prettier.”

The familiar press of a hand against her scantily clad ass had Kagome freezing in her tracks and a force smile to spread across her face as she slowly turned to face the what seemed to be the nth pervert that night that couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

She was greeted with a wolfish smile and a suggestive leer coming from starling blue eyes that made her skin crawl. Wisely the man retracted his hand and gave her an obvious once over, male approval in his gaze as he took in the short leather skirt that barely covered her ass and the matching blank and red corset that she was forced to wear as part of her “uniform.”

It was the most ridiculous thing Kagome had ever been required to wear for a job, but her boss insisted on it, and she needed this job, so she sort of had no choice in the matter. Still, it was the number one reason why she’d been felt up so many times this night, as well as any other night she worked here at The Tipsy Monk, and she swore she was not going to be held responsible for her actions if some pervert grabbed her ass one more time...

“Can I get you anything?” Kagome managed to girt out through her forced smile and inconspicuously edged herself away from him. A brief flash of silver caught her peripheral and she flicked a curious glance toward at, but it was already gone so she tuned he attention back to what appeared to be the wolf demon in front of her.

Teeth flashed in a charming grin and Kagome mentally groaned. Oh god, here we go—

“For starters, sweet thing, you can get me your number.” He waggled his eyebrows at her like it was the most clever pick up line in the entire world.

Kagome had heard better lines from her cat.

Still keeping the fake smile pasted on her lips – luckily this guy looked dumb enough to fall for it – Kagome tittered and cooed, “Well, give me your phone, big guy.”

The wolf looked shocked for a minute, like he actually couldn’t believe that it had worked, before frantically searching in all of his pockets for the elusive device and then withdrawing it with a sound of triumph a full minutes later.

Tucking her server tray under an arm, Kagome wordlessly took the device from him, went into his contacts and added a number that consisted of all zeroes before handing it back to him with the same false, sugary sweet smile.

“I don’t get off until ten, though, so make sure to call me after that, yeah?” Kagome said, tipping a pink to the shell shocked wolf demon and then promptly turning around to continue her work, immediately dropping the smile and rolling her eyes so hard it hurt.

Determined to ignore the handsy wolf demon for the rest of the night – she heard a badly stifled “fuck yes” and had to refrain from rolling her eye again – Kagome sighed and tried not to look at the clock as she approached the nearest table and started piling empty glasses onto her tray.

She was exhausted, the leather was chafing uncomfortably against her skin, her feet were killing her in the only pair of heels she owned that went with her monotonicity of a uniform, and she was one badly timed grope away from fucking decking the next asshole that dared put his hand on her like she was a piece of meat.

“I need this job, I need this job, I need this job...” Kagome muttered to herself as she wiped down the polished wood then headed back to the counter to drop off the empties and get a fresh round for the table in the back that liked to tip in twenty’s.

Well, Kagome mused as Sango smiled sympathetically and prepared her order. At least that’s one good thing coming from such a crappy night.

A little ways down the bar, sitting on the bar stool and nursing a cold brew, amber eyes discreetly studied the black-haired bombshell with the great legs leaning over the counter and chatting with the tender as she waited for her order. He wasn’t blind; of course he noticed how it looked as if she’d been poured into that mini skirt and corset, the leather clinging to her figure in all the right places and showing off a generous amount of cleavage he wouldn’t mind getting closely acquainted with.

The thing was, though, Inuyasha wasn’t the only one who’d noticed and it was very obvious her patience was running thin. He’d noticed her the instant he’d walked into bar at around 6 pm and he’d been watching her get grabbed at and handled all night. Anger on her behalf always flared up whenever he spotted some asshat daring to put his dirty mitts on her, and he was relieved to see that she handled herself beautifully, always skirting away with a smile and a playful wag of a finger. He knew her smile was forced, though, and as the hours dragged on the strain was becoming that much more evident.

He suspected the next poor sod that made the unfortunate decision to grab that perfect ass was going to get throat punched. And Inuyasha was going to revel in it.

Frowning, the silver-haired hanyou tipped back the rest of his beer and fished out a twenty to pay for his tab. While it was hard for him to get truly drunk, he still wanted a clear head just in case he had to intervene if one of the aforementioned poor sods decided to ignore her chaste reprimand and get a little more than just handsy with the attractive waitress.

Bar brawls were uncommon in a place like The Tipsy Monk – Miroku had a very strict policy that all fights be taken outside or you were banned indefinitely – but Inuyasha had more than once had to step in before things got out of control between drunken patrons.

Disagreements between female employee and male customer were at a grand total of zero, and he’d like to keep it that way. He was sure Miroku felt similarly.

Preoccupied as she was avoiding grabby hands, delivering drinks, and keeping up a cheerful disposition while most likely trying to maintain a regular breathing pattern in that tight as fuck corset, his beautiful waitress failed to notice his blatant staring so Inuyasha continued to watch her, propping an elbow on the bar and resting his head in his hand. He made sure to pay special attention to the wolfshit that had so boldly asked for her number earlier, and though he doubted she’d put her actual number in her phone, he didn’t know that and as such he might think it was grounds to get a little more confident with his moves.

Keh. Inuyasha narrowed his eyes.

Not on his fucking watch.

The night dragged on until suddenly it was last call and thankfully his services hadn’t been needed. His little vixen in leather had successfully managed to dodge wandering hands for the remainder of the night, the wolf hadn’t approached again, apparently content with his perceived success, and Inuyasha felt confident in leaving the bar for the employees to start closing.

He didn’t go far, though, only going a few feet away and leaning against the brick wall of the neighboring building as he waited for his pretty waitress to leave. He knew Miroku was always the last one out, and he never let his female employees leave through back entrance at night. Sure, he may be a pretty sketchy pervert, but he was a decent guy where it counted and he did care for the welfare of his employees. Knowing this, you’d think the guy would allow his waitresses to dress in a way that did not draw the male gaze.

So, decent guy? Yes. Smart?

Nope.

The door opened and the bartender exited first, a tall brunette by the name of Sango who’d given him his beers with a friendly smile. She was fairly new and Inuyasha liked her. She waved at him, he waved back, and then his beautiful bombshell appeared right after her and his face lit up.

He watched as she bid a weary farewell to the tender and then walked in the opposite direction, away from him, and she appeared to be digging around in her purse for something as she walked down the street, distracted.

Pushing back from the wall Inuyasha followed after her, opening his mouth to call out for her to wait when he stepped on something with a slight give and he paused, looking down because that hadn’t been pavement.

Black brows popped up into the silver fringe of his bangs and Inuyasha knelt down to snatch up the rectangular object. It was one of those wallet phone case combo things, where one could slid their phone into the designated sleeve while the rest of it operated like a regular wallet, credit card slots and everything.

He opened it up and grinned. Staring back at him was his beautiful brown-eyed waitress, smiling from the photo on her license through the clear sleeve. Her phone was safely tucked away and secured in its own spot and when his thumb touched the screen, he chuckled when the screen came to life and he saw her lock screen was a picture of a very fat cat.

“Cute,” he mumbled before closing it up and making sure it was closed. Then he took off after her, glad he had the excuse to approach her now and not come off as some creeper waiting for her shift to end.

You know. Like what he was doing before she dropped her wallet.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, Inuyasha caught up with her just as she rounded the corner and reached out to stop her with a hand to her shoulder.

“Hey—”

Throwing him completely by surprise, Kagome Higurashi swung around, balled her fist, and decked him right in the fucking face.

“I’ve had it with you grabby perverts!” she hollered before promptly turning on her heel with a huff and stomping off, deciding to hail a taxi instead of walking the block to her apartment. She flagged one down in short order and didn’t even look at the scumbag still lying on the ground as she climbed inside, muttered her address, and disappeared down the street.

Stunned, Inuyasha could do nothing but lie there and stare up at the dark sky as his mind slowly processed what had just happened.

Jesus Christ, she had just punched him. Hard. And it had actually knocked him off his feet.

Holy fuck, he was in love.

Sitting up onto his elbows, Inuyasha gingerly touched his jaw and stared down the road where she’d taken off, his face completely awestruck even as a smile slowly worked its way onto his lips.

Then he winced because his jaw protested the muscle use and then he had to chuckle despite the pain. In all of his thirty years of life, nobody, not a fully-grown demon or even his asshole of a half-brother, had managed to hit him hard enough where it actually knocked him on his ass.

And then this little slip of a woman wearing a fucking mini skirt and a corset comes along, gets harassed for a few hours by drunken men, and then easily sends him flying with one swing.

Inuyasha was not ashamed to admit that he was not fully and absolutely smitten and he had to make her his. Beautiful, wily, and gutsy—god, she was fucking perfect and he’d be damned if that was the last time he ever saw her.

Heaving himself to his feet with a grunt and ignoring the already fading pain in his jaw, Inuyasha opened up her wallet once again and quickly found what he was looking for. He grinned. Turned out she only lived about a block away from here so at least that was in his favor.

Chuckling, Inuyasha stashed the wallet combo in his jacket, gave one last look down the street where she disappeared, and turned around to head back home himself. He’d give it back tomorrow—tonight he figured she’d need time to cool off and it was late anyway. No doubt all she’d want to do is pass out after a long night of fending off creeps and he didn’t blame her one bit.

Smirking to himself, feeling proud and more than a little excited for what tomorrow would bring, Inuyasha shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled leisurely down the street, really looking forward to the next day for the first time in a long time.

Standing outside the apartment complex, Inuyasha compared the address to the one printed on her license one last time and nodded to herself. This was it—Sakura Landing Apartment Houses. It was a nice little community, where all the buildings looked the same, with maybe two or three apartments in each one, and each apartment had its own parking place.

He approved of it. It was safe, quiet, and smelled nice, which was always a bonus for him.

Tucking Kagome’s wallet into his back pocket – he’d foregone a jacket today since it was warm out – Inuyasha strolled farther into the community and searched for the number he wanted, his ears detecting children’s laugher, the rumble of cars, and doors opening and closing. Kagome’s building should be somewhere in the middle, number six...ah, there it was.

He jogged up to the maroon door with the gold figures of 6B nailed onto the center, took a moment to admire the pretty flowers hanging from either side, before raising a hand and ringing the bell. It was a little after 10 am and he hoped she was awake—

His ears pricked forward at the sound of approaching footsteps on the other side of the door and he grinned, happy he was finally going to see her again after a long twelve hours. Would she remember him? Coo in sympathy when she saw the bruise on his jaw? Usher him inside with a kind smile and gently treat it—

The door swung open and big brown eyes blinked at him in utter bafflement.

“Who are you and what the hell happened to your face?”

Inuyasha balked. Blinked. And then cocked a brow. “What, you don’t remember?”

He received a blank stare.

“You did this to my face.”

Kagome blinked.

Inuyasha’s stare was deadpan. “Last night. 10 pm. The Tipsy Monk. You were leaving.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh.” The she frowned and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Did you follow me, you—”

Inuyasha wordlessly held out her wallet case and all color drained from Kagome’s face.

“Oh...damn.”

Inuyasha lifted another brow. “You dropped this and I wanted to give it back.”

“Ohmigod I’m so sorry I thought you were--”

“Another pervert, I know.” At her surprised look he explained, “Couldn’t help but notice you were getting a lot of unwanted attention no thanks to that ridiculous uniform. The good for nothing you call your boss is a fucking pervert and it’s for his own selfish pleasure than anything else. Show up to work tonight in jeans and a t-shirt and when he asks why tell him Inuyasha says ‘fuck off.’“

Kagome blinked. “You know Miroku?”

“Unfortunately he’s my best friend. Clear lapse in sanity on my part fifteen years ago when I met the guy and now I can’t get rid of him. I’ve tried but he’s a cockroach. He won’t die and always come back.”

Kagome giggle-snorted despite herself before reaching out to finally take back her phone and wallet with an abashed smile.

“Thank you,” she breathed, flipping it open to see several missed calls and a few texts on he phone. “I was in such a hurry to go home last night that I didn’t even realize I dropped it.”

Inuyasha shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “I’m just glad I was the one that found it instead of one of your creepy admirers.”

Her smile grew. “Me, too.”

He smirked at her and it just suddenly hit Kagome that this man was downright attractive. With eyes the color of golden whiskey, long silver hair that reached his waist and the most adorable ears that sat atop his head, she surmised that he must be a demon of some kind, maybe that of a canine variety judging by the sinful flash of fang and the claws tipping his fingers.

An answering pulse of purely feminine appreciation curled in her belly and Kagome bit her lip, aware that she was shamelessly gawking, but not particularly caring. The already fading bruise on his jaw didn’t subtract from his attractiveness at all and Kagome was suddenly very glad she’d dropped her wallet and phone last night.

“See somethin’ ya like?” his amused voice interrupted her shameless admiration.

“Mmhm,” Kagome answered without even thinking and it was only when he released a throaty chuckle did she realize what she said and she smacked a hand over her mouth with a gasp, dark eyes going very wide as she snapped them back to his face from where they’d been openly staring at his chest.

In an attempt to save face and unable to control the blush that heated her face, Kagome cleared her throat and laughed nervously, directing her gaze toward the bruise she’d given him instead of his eyes.

“Ah, um, listen, I’m so sorry for punching you last night,” she said and reached up to brush her fingers across his jaw, caught herself at the last minute and hastily brought her traitorous hand back down with another flush.

She cleared her throat again and forced herself to meet his eyes. “I’d, ah, really like to make it up to you, but I’m working the afternoon shift today and I don’t get off until six.” Her smile was equal parts shy and hopeful then as she tentatively queried, “Do you...have any plans after that?”

Amber eyes flashed and fangs were revealed as his mouth stretched into a wicked smirk. Bracing one arm on the doorjamb and leaning forward, Inuyasha looked directly into her eyes and liked the way her breath hitched in her throat, her already enticing scent darkening with a heady spice that elicited a pleased growl from his throat.

“If I’m being honest here,” he rumbled, eyes heavy-lidded, “with any luck, I’ll be getting off with you.”

It took Kagome a minute to process just what he said and coupled with that devastating smirk on his face Kagome’s brain was having difficulty computing. But when it finally registered her eyes went wide, her mouth dropped, and she could only gawk incredulously at him while he looked quite pleased with himself at her reaction.

“You smooth bastard,” Kagome finally breathed after she found her voice again and Inuyasha merely waggled his brows at her, his smirk turning into a shit-eating grin.

“Charmed the panties right off ya, didn’t I?” he cheeked, amber eyes glinting mischievously.

Kagome snickered and couldn’t contain her grin, dark eyes alight with amusement. “Oh, you know it. I’m feelin’ the breeze, baby.”

Inuyasha laughed and thought fuck, this was the girl for him. She was it. He had to have her. He had to.

“You know,” Kagome suddenly purred and Inuyasha was instantly alert, body responding to the rather provocative lilt to her voice and really liking that suggestive little curl to her lips as she stepped closer to him. “That does kinda looks like it hurts...and it is my fault...”

Inuyasha’s gaze went hooded when she placed her hands on his chest and he shifted a little closer, reaching down to rest his own hands on her hips.

“Yeah?” he husked, not about to admit that it would fade away within the hour. And he most definitely was not about to admit that he’d decked himself before coming over because the one she’d given him yesterday had already been long gone.

“Mmhm,” she hummed and tilted her head back as he slid her palms up his chest to grasp his shoulders. “Soo, why don’t you come inside and I can treat that for you while you show me what other things that slick mouth of yours can do, hmm?”

Inuyasha’s response to that was to give a heady growl, hook his hands beneath her thighs to lift her up against him, and then walk them into her apartment, leaning forward to capture her grinning mouth with his own as he reached back with a foot and kicked the door shut.

“Uh...Kagome...”

“Mm?”

Pausing on her way to wash off a few tables, Kagome turned toward her boss and tilted her head, expression inquisitive.

Miroku chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck as he eyed what she was wearing. Or moreover, the lack of uniform that he was seeing. “What are you wearing?”

She blinked. “Clothes?”

“Well, yes,” he said with a frown. “But where’s your uniform?” Forlornly he dropped his gaze to the long legs donned in blue jeans and stifled a whimper. He liked those legs...

Kagome blinked again and then a frown pulled her brows down over her eyes and she cocked a hip to the side as she tapped her lips with a finger, propping her free hand on her hip.

“Y’know, I think I was supposed to tell you something about that, but I can’t remember...oh, right! Miroku.” Kagome looked right at him and her boss balked.

Utterly perplexed, Miroku eyed her warily and ventured cautiously, “...Yes?”

She beamed brightly at him and said, “Inuyasha says, ‘fuck off.’”

Loud and boisterous laughter abruptly came from the bar and Miroku turned to gape at his best friend as he proceeded to lose his shit. Evidently having been in the middle of taking a drink of his beer, he’d ended up spewing his mouthful onto the bar top but he hardly noticed as he sat there laughing his ass off, one hand covering his face while the other loosely circled his pint glass.

Feeling quite proud of herself while her boss stood there and gawked at her lover, Kagome piped up, “Gotta get back to work, boss,” then cheerfully skipped off, humming a jaunty little tune under breath and unable to keep the grin from spreading across her face.

Realizing that his damned best friend had managed to snag his best – and most attractive – employee, Miroku scowled, flipped off the laughing hanyou and then promptly skulked away to see if he could entice the new girl Sango to wear the uniform. She had nice legs as well, but that ass...

His hand twitched and he walked a little faster.

About an hour or so later, during a lull in the evening where business was slow and the employees could take a short breather, Kagome snuck up behind the lone man sitting at the bar and slipped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her hands to his stomach as she rested her chin on his shoulders.

“Well, hey there, handsome.”

Grinning, Inuyasha set down his beer and gently tapped the hands. They released him and he wasted no time in spinning around on his bar stool to face laughing brown eyes and full smiling lips.

“Fancy meetin’ you here,” he returned smoothly and snagged her hips, dragging her forward to stand between his spread knees.

“Must be fate.” With an impish curve to her mouth, Kagome looped her arms around his neck and smiled at him, her eyes going soft as she idly played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“No doubt.”

He leaned forward and Kagome met him halfway, humming in appreciation as his mouth caught hers in a slow, lazy kiss that sent tingles of pleasure curling in her belly. It was amazing, how comfortable she felt already with this man she’d met only just that morning. Maybe it really was fate, but whatever it was, she wasn’t going to question it. Kagome was never one to question a good thing when it fell into her lap.

Or maybe in this instance, fell against her lips?

She grinned and she felt his lips curl upward in response, nipping gently at the soft skin before pulling back with a contented rumble. She sighed and melted against him, eyes fluttering open to find him staring down at her with an arrogant glint in his eyes.

“That good, huh?” he asked, not bothering to hide the hint of smugness lacing his tone.

“Oh, you know me,” Kagome murmured, reaching up to teasingly flick his ear. “Can’t resist a smooth talker.”

Inuyasha wiggled his eyebrows and shamelessly admitted, “I got more.”

Kagome huffed out a laugh and maneuvered herself to perch on his thigh, keeping her arms around his. In response he moved his arms to circle her waist in a loose embrace, reluctant to release her.

“Oh? Dare I ask?” Kagome teased and arched an expectant brow.

With a positively sinful smirk Inuyasha leaned forward to nip at her nose and then breath against her lips, “Are you a piece of art because I sure as hell nailed you against the wall earlier.”

Kagome gasped and then promptly dissolved into giggles, burying her face in he shoulder while Inuyasha sat there and grinned proudly.

“Okay,” Kagome managed through her mirth, lifting her head to reveal a flushed face and a wide smile. “I have to admit, that one was good.”

“A guarantee for at least some head,” Inuyasha lewdly remarked and Kagome’s loud snort didn’t even faze him.

“Oh, yeah,” Kagome agreed, the sarcasm heavy in her voice, but she was smiling broadly at him. “The urge to suddenly drop to my knees is positively staggering.”

“Carpet at my place is pretty soft,” he not so subtly hinted, grinning as he nipped at her jaw and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her neck.

“Really, now,” Kagome murmured, her eyes fluttering close as he trailed hot kisses along the slender column of her throat. “But what about work? I still have two hours.”

Inuyasha grunted. “Tell Miroku I said—”

“‘Fuck off’?” Kagome supplied, opening her eyes and biting her lip to keep from grinning. She failed.

“No.” After sucking a bruise onto her neck, Inuyasha trailed his mouth back up to her lips and growled against them, “Tell him you need to leave because my dick is made of Skittles and you need to taste the rainbow.”

“Oh, be still my heart.”

“What can I say,” Inuyasha growled before pressing a brief kiss to her lips and then leaning back, heated amber eyes locking with impassioned brown as a hint of fang flashed from a wicked smirk.

“I’m a smooth talker.”

shoutout to my discord ladies for giving me the idea of having Kagome give Kouga a number with all zeros and even though I didn’t write it, he totally called that number after 10 and wondered why it wasn’t working ahahah xD

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

Text

7.13, The Slice Girls.

Yes, yes, bucklemming and their creepy magical babies, but let's put that aside and talk about Sam and Dean and what this episode says about them, instead, for once. Instead of letting the focus on the creepy baby blind us all to what's actually happening in this episode, and what it says about s7 (and s6 too, and honestly a good chunk of Sera Gamble's approach to storytelling in general since she was the architect of these seasons even if she didn't pen this particular episode) overall.

Because whoa... it's kinda... not friendly to Sam...

My tag about how Sam and Dean are entirely different people, with different psychological composition, different mental and emotional processes, came about at the beginning of s11 (when the show was using a two-episode mirroring structure, thematically pairing episodes until the midseason 10, 11, 12 worked together as a triptych, and in a season where the final message the characters had to accept and learn was the understanding of Balance Of Opposites, these differences were on stark display) is "sam sympathizes and dean empathizes." It felt like a baseline difference in how each of them approach the world, and something necessary for US to understand their entire dynamic.

And that's on PERFECT display in this episode.

I've been talking throughout my s7 posts in this series about how Sam can't even see how compromised he is. Despite the fact he spends the entire season actively hallucinating Lucifer and openly admits he has difficulty telling those hallucinations apart from reality, he remains convinced that he's coping with it effectively (via the magic button of sanity he believes the scar on his hand to be), and all he has to do is press that button any time Hallucifer pops up, and everything will be fine again. This is Advanced Level Pretending The Bad Thing Doesn't Exist To Make It Go Away. And he can't understand AT ALL why Dean is intensely wary of him, and is unable to fully trust in Sam's perceptions or decision making abilities throughout most of s7.

(which... I mean turns out to be totally valid, but that's for another post... or at the very least, much later in this one... for now, let's try to stick to 7.13, Mittens, and avoid running off ahead of yourself for once... okay we have that settled, back to the point)

We don't see much of Sam actively Hallucifering in this episode, nor relying on the old Hand Squeeze maneuver, but it's impossible to watch this episode and draw the conclusion that Sam was an Objective Observer of Reality here. He's completely entrenched in his personal bias regarding Dean's actions, behavior, and mindset. And again, it's incredibly frustrating to watch.

Sam is so utterly convinced (because he HAS to be in order for it to continue working for him) of his own self-control, of his own stability, of his own soundness of mind, of his own perceptions of the world to be the One, True, Right, Correct Understanding. If that fails him, then as Dean told him in 7.02 when he first squeezed that wound on his hand to bring him back to reality, then "Stone One" of the foundation of his ability to cope with anything at all will just shatter, and his entire sense of self will slide away with it, and his unstable construct of sanity will collapse.

(which... happens two episodes later, but again, I'm getting ahead of myself... *slaps self and gets back to the point*)

Sam NEEDS to believe in his own "correctness" here. And sadly, part of that sham of belief involves the go-to mindset of s4-- that Dean is somehow "broken," that Dean is the one clearly not coping, or not engaging with reality as Sam interprets it, and that it's Dean's perceptions that are inherently suspect. Because Sam doesn't know a different way of relating to the world. He sympathizes.

I've written a lot about the difference between Sam as Sympathetic and Dean as Empathetic, but a super-quick and messy breakdown of this for the purposes of understanding my whole entire point here:

Sam understands others through an examination of them as filtered through his own personal past experiences and his own personal feelings and beliefs. He assumes that everyone else understands the world in this same way, and when someone's reactions or behavior deviates from his own personal experience, from how HE would behave or react in a given circumstance, he frequently disconnects or misinterprets, or attempts to re-file his observations or reclassify the other person in question into something he CAN relate to and understand.

In other words, Sympathy. (versus Dean’s empathy, where he is more able to set aside his own reactions and see people as they are, themselves. It’s what makes him so good at cold reading strangers, being able to put himself into their shoes rather than needing to imagine their shoes are identical to his own...)

We finally see a small subversion of this in Sam’s interactions with Jack in early s13, wherein he projects his own past experience onto Jack, applying the same things he experienced (or even wished he had actually experienced when he was younger) regarding his own psychic powers that he once believed may have made him "evil." Or at the very least made him "other." And Jack directly calls him out for his treatment in 13.03, which gives Sam pause, forces reflection, and drives him toward actually seeing Jack, rather than just seeing Jack as a projection of his own personal beliefs.

I really hope this makes sense... because 7.13 is demonstrating the root of this lack of understanding as the toxic and dangerous thing it can be, when pushed to this sort of deliberately self-deluding extreme. And of course Sam's ongoing ability to walk and talk and function at all completely relies on his ability to do this during s7 (which... ick is one of the reasons I think a lot of folks really have trouble with the entire narrative of the season, even if they haven't put their finger on why, because this is a super-icky, incredibly uncomfortable thing to watch).

Meanwhile, in addition to everything else going on, from the Leviathans being gooey and creepy and plotting world domination as their endgame goal while largely working to achieve it in plain sight, disguised as humans as they slowly infiltrate... everything and influence everything from politics to real estate to healthcare to the food supply to achieve their ends, to everything Dean relies on for his own personal comfort and stability and connection to the world being gradually stripped away from him (beginning with Cas and running right along through his own literal identity), this episode will steal yet another small physical comfort from him-- human sexual intimacy.

He's already lost Cas, his car (the singular constant in his entire life and the closest thing he's ever had to a home), his actual identity, his innermost thoughts (which went along with the identity when a leviathan took his form), comfort food (the TDK slammer slammed him good), Bobby, and even-- to an extent, due to his ongoing concern for his mental health-- Sam. Dean is... adrift... and now he can't even allow himself the simple pleasure of human touch and physical intimacy (even shrouded in the lie of a false identity... he can't even fake it for self-comforting purposes anymore). And yet, he still knows himself, far better than Sam does. And yet for Sam to maintain his self-control, he needs to believe that it's Dean who is deluding himself and succumbing to the depression Sam is not allowing himself to own.

Dean spends the majority of this episode actually doing his job, making connections, and coming to an understanding of the case through his own personal experience of it. While Sam puts the entirety of his reliance on coming to an understanding of the case on the Academic Validation of an "expert" in ancient Greek. Sam dismisses Dean's direct experience by rejecting it as inherently flawed-- because Sam doesn't necessarily trust his OWN ability to have made these observations himself, yet is 100% dependent on the conclusion that only his own observations are remotely reliable, lest his illusory grip on reality shatter entirely.

Dean, meanwhile, is not similarly compromised in a fundamental way, despite his increased drinking, which Sam uses as yet another excuse to dismiss Dean's assessment of reality. Dean's still insisting that he believes that Bobby's ghost may be haunting them, while Sam explains away each new incident rationally-- or so he believes, as the evidence mounts to a ridiculous extent. It gives Sam the false impression that Dean is emotionally compromised to the point his judgment has become irrational and based on his emotions, rather than his point of view and direct experience that Sam simply can't grok, and therefore needs to dismiss to maintain his belief in his own rationality.

These themes will become the "beating a dead horse dot gif" of s7, continuing even after Sam is healed by Cas in 7.17, proving they're inherent to Sam's fundamental makeup, rather than just a side effect of this "soul damage" he suffered with, or the demon blood he was addicted to in s4.

I'm still attempting to force myself to remain focused on just this episode, though, so I'll conclude with a few direct observations:

DEAN: I'm outside Lydia's. SAM (on phone): Oh, come on, man. What, are you obsessed or something? DEAN (on phone): No, I'm telling you. I have been eating at the buffet of strange all afternoon. SAM: Meaning what? DEAN: I'll tell you the second I know. But something ain't right. SAM: Or you're obsessed. DEAN: Shut up. I'm serious.

Despite Sam being told real facts by "experts" that the murdered men had all visited the same club Dean had the night before, he easily dismisses Dean's observations of something weird happening with the woman he'd hooked up with. Sam even tells him he's lucky he "dodged a bullet" since Dean hasn't been killed like the other men he's investigating, and is incapable of even making the connection between what killed those men and the "strange" things Dean's seeing with his own eyes regarding Lydia's rapidly growing daughter, Emma. Sam has to jump through increasingly flaming hoops with a straight face to maintain his belief that Dean is simply obsessed with this woman, that Dean is continuing to slack off, that Dean isn't objectively addressing The Facts™ as Sam understands them.

SAM: So what? I mean, so maybe she has another kid she didn't tell you about. DEAN: Nope, just the one. Emma. But that night, when I was with her, she didn't have any. And I was at her place, man. There was no playpens, no blankets, no rubber ducks. SAM: Right. Like you would have been focused on that kind of thing. DEAN: Hey, dude, that's the first thing you notice. Red flags. Then, all of a sudden, boom – baby. SAM: Yeah, the one you thought talked. DEAN: Oh, it talked. And not baby talk, either. SAM: Now you know so much about child development? DEAN: I know enough to know that they don't say, "Hey, Mom. Who's that guy?" So, cut to... Lydia's handing this kid who's calling her mommy over to these two women, right? But this is not a baby. No, no, this kid's got to be five. And same name – Emma. SAM: You know, George Foreman named all his sons George. DEAN: Are you deliberately messing with me? Dude, I know weird. Okay? There is no non-weird explanation for this. This morning, Emma was a baby. By sunset, she's Hannah Montana. Early years.

And yet Sam is still intent on the "expert" opinion of the professor they asked for help, over and above anything Dean might insist he's personally experiencing. Here, have a very short but complete meta encapsulation of this entire dynamic:

SAM’s phone rings. SAM: It's the Professor. DEAN: Oh. Good. The Professor. Yeah, I'm sure he'll crack this wide open. SAM: Shh!

Dean is sarcastic and dismissive of the professor, the supposed expert who deals in theoreticals and mythology, and not the reality Dean has directly experienced. Meanwhile Sam shushes Dean, dismissing not only his direct experience, but Dean's frustration at Sam’s repeated dismissals.

And here we have it again:

SAM: There's this whole crazy side to Amazon lore that Professor Morrison didn't even mention. DEAN: That's 'cause he doesn't believe in it, which is a real handicap when you're trying to deal with it.

THIS IS SAM'S WHOLE ENTIRE PROBLEM IN A SINGLE EXCHANGE. and then the moment Sam finds something In The Lore™, written down in a book where it's impossible to dismiss, he realizes that Dean hasn't been making shit up or somehow misinterpreting his own lived experience:

SAM: The lore says they reproduced quickly – as in, after mating, they gave birth within 36 hours. The babies grew incredibly fast, then the aging process became normal. Which is one way to make an army, I guess. The mating cycle is every two years. They send out all the women who have reached child-bearing age. DEAN: Which lines up, 'cause this happens every couple of years in different towns, right? SAM: Yeah. And we know for sure that at least some of the vics hooked up with strange women days before being killed Amazon style. DEAN: Hooked up in the same bar I met Lydia, right? SAM: Yeah. DEAN: And then suddenly she's got a little baby in like fruit-fly time. That baby turns into a little girl just as fast. SAM: Wow. So maybe you're – you’re, uh... DEAN: Don't say it.

But rather than questioning EVERYTHING ELSE Dean has been saying over the last few days (or longer, regarding his experiences related to Bobby's ghost), Sam holds on to the rest of his beliefs even more tightly. And he reframes this entire revelation into a different validation of his original thesis-- that Dean's still compromised, Dean's not being objective, Dean letting his emotional damage control him, and it's still A Problem. Because if that's still the case, then Sam is still Maintaining Control Of Himself, and not-compromised himself.

Sam latches on to this and refuses to let go, dismissing Bobby's ghost as a potential explanation for anything, dismissing Dean's evaluation of a document and again running off for a "professional opinion."

DEAN: Maybe it's useful. SAM: It's in a pile of "maybe it's useful." Besides, it's in Greek. Nobody reads Greek. DEAN: Yeah, except Greeks. Oh, and Bobby. SAM: And Professor Morrison. DEAN: Really? SAM: I'm going, Dean. You stay here, keep the door locked. Don't go anywhere. I mean it.

Meanwhile, this approach leaves Sam vulnerable. While at the professor's office, he's attacked by one of the Amazons. While left alone in their motel room, Dean's confronted by his Amazon daughter. He doesn't immediately kill her, though, despite drawing a gun on her before she can attack. And she is talking with him rather than outright attacking anyway, so he lets her talk. To me, this is the key exchange:

DEAN: You look exhausted. EMMA: And starving. It's been a tough sweet 16. So you believe me? EMMA: You'll help me? DEAN: If you really want help.

He is willing to help her escape her life IF SHE REALLY WANTS HELP. We know that when Sam does return, he literally sees a side of Emma that she never reveals to Dean-- the Amazon red eyes-- which convinces Sam that she's a monster incapable of not being monstrous.

A knife drops into EMMA’s hand from her sleeve. DEAN closes the refrigerator and points his gun at EMMA. DEAN: You were asking if I believed you.

I.e., no, Dean didn’t believe her, but he was still willing to hear her out, from an understandable “I’m still gonna point this gun at you while we chat” perspective. When Dean wavers, Emma uses that to question his ability to kill her at all... which is shockingly reminiscent of Dean's inability to kill Jack, even under direct orders from God, in 14.20:

EMMA: It's weirdly hard, isn't it? It is for me. DEAN: Knock it off. EMMA: How could it not be? You're my father. DEAN: Hey! We're not gonna do that. EMMA: But it's true.

So while Dean had wavered in just outright killing Emma, waiting to see if she would succumb to her monstrous nature and try to kill him first, Sam makes the choice to kill her immediately. And in his defense, he even invokes Dean's killing of Amy Pond back in 7.03 as proof that Dean is still compromised:

SAM: What did you say to me... when I was the one who choked? What did you say about Amy? "You kill the monster!" DEAN: I was going to! SAM: Oh, the hell you were! You think I'm an idiot? DEAN: What, you think I am? SAM: Dean, you were gonna let her walk! DEAN: No, I wasn't. That's ridiculous! SAM: Look, man, she was not yours. Not really. DEAN: Actually, she, uh, she was, really. She just also happened to be a crazy man-killing monster. But, uh, hey. SAM: You know what? Bobby was right. Your head's not in it, man. When Cas died, you were wobbly, but now... DEAN: Now what? Oh, what, you're dealing with it so perfect? Yeah, news flash, pal – you're just as screwed up as I am! You're just... bigger. SAM: What?! DEAN: I don't know. SAM: Look... Dean, the thing is, tonight... It almost got you killed. Now, I don't care how you deal. I really, really don't. But just don't – don't get killed.

Because that's what it boils down to, even underneath "stone one" and his Magical Scar Button, the foundation Sam laid that stone on was Dean's assurance, Dean literally guiding him through the mess of hallucination and reality that he'd been unable to separate out for himself, which Dean gets that Sam isn't actually dealing with outside of pushing the button every time Lucifer pops up for him. And without Dean, Sam knows his entire baseline for holding himself together would be gone. And isn't that just terrifying.

Because what Bobby was actually worried about wasn't Dean's head not being in it, but Dean's ability to carry the weight of all of this amid the relentless assault of the universe. From 7.09:

SAM: Yeah. Yeah, I kind of mean more like, uh... more like ever since my head broke... and we lost Cas. I mean, you ever feel like he's -- he's going through the same motions but he's not the same Dean, you know? BOBBY: How could he be? SAM: Right, yeah, but what if -- BOBBY: What if what, Sam? You know, you worry about him. All he does is worry about you. Who's left to live their own life here? The two of you -- aren't you full up just playing Snuffleupagus with the Devil all the live long? SAM: I don't know, Bobby. Seeing Lucifer's fine with me. BOBBY: Come again? SAM: Look, I'm not saying it's fun. I mean, to be honest with you, I-I kind of see it as the best-case scenario. I mean... at least all my crazy's under one umbrella, you know? I kind of know what I'm dealing with. A lot of people got it worse. BOBBY: You always were one deep little son of a bitch.

Bobby never actually said to Sam that Dean’s head wasn't in it. He gave Dean a bit of a talking-to after this, which is distressingly similar to what both Frank and Eliot Ness also tell Dean over the course of the next few episodes, but he never said this to Sam. This is SAM'S interpretation, based on SAM'S assessment of Dean, which informs Bobby's "buck up or else, you're a hunter not a person" speech to Dean from 7.09. Because this was what SAM needed to hear and believe to keep that "umbrella of crazy" firmly in place where he could manage it.

And as the universe continues tearing away at Dean's entire reality, that shield of "professionalism" is just about all he has left. And Sam unintentionally undermines even that at every turn.

What a horrific mess.

#spn 7.13 #s14 hellatus rewatch #sam sympathizes and dean empathizes #winchester family dynamics #using your words #spiders georg of the tnt loop

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angeltriestoblog · 5 years

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On-brand stories from my childhood

I remember this tweet going around a few months ago, soliciting people’s most on-brand stories from their childhood, things they’ve done or words they’ve said as a kid that sum up who they are at present. I wanted to participate so bad when I first saw it on my timeline, but I knew that being the eccentric, one-of-a-kind kid I was, it would take me a long period of reminiscing (and more tweets in a thread than anyone would bother to read) to put down everything worth noting. So, here it is: 10 of the weirdest, Most Angel experiences from my youth, for the lack of a way to put it, accompanied by photos of baby me because let’s face it, they make everything better.

ONE: When I was about four, my parents took me to a building very near our house to have my IQ checked. They had an inkling that I was a gifted child, and wanted to confirm it with a professional. So, I was escorted into an office, and subjected to interrogation to assess my competence in several areas of giftedness - much to my dismay, since all I wanted was to get that interview over and done with so I could read books in the library next door. There was this one part where the person in charge of me was trying to test my kinesthetic abilities by getting me to follow this aerobics routine that she was making me do. “Step step one, step step two,” she was saying while stomping to the right and stomping right back in place. I told her I didn’t want to do it, because I didn’t want to look like a fool.

TWO: I had this knack for correcting teachers. As a kid, I was hyperfixated on learning all the countries in the world and their respective capitals, with the help of this flash cards set that I got from Toy Kingdom. So when there was this time that my Filipino teacher had said that there were only two countries in the world with names that started with the letter Q, five year old Angel was very quick to correct her. “Miss Melissa, there’s only one country that starts with the letter Q! It’s Qatar!” I told her. She replied, “No! Quebec is a country, too!” This argument persisted for a bit until she made us do a seatwork, which gave her the opportunity to leave us to go to the computer room for a bit (since cellphones weren’t given Internet capability back in 2006). She returned and told me, “Angel, tama ka nga. Di pala bansa yung Quebec, hehe.”

THREE: It’s become common knowledge to everyone in my life that I wrote books growing up, but my body of work extended way beyond my very inventive fiction (alternatively called, me putting my own twist on the fairytales I read growing up) and creative non-fiction (me telling everyone how my day, half true-to-life, accurate detail and half-imagination). I remember going through the family laptop one day, and coming across the corporate profile of my uncle’s company, where my dad was working at the time as the technical assistant to the president. Being the child I was who wanted to emulate everything her father was doing, I wanted to make a copy of my own too but I was unfortunately unemployed. Thankfully, I took matters into my own hands and made up a company of my own, which I aptly named Pamper and Pretty. Excuse the fatal grammar error, but I was six and was yet to be familiarized with what parallelism in writing actually was. I drafted a whole corporate profile, complete with the list of my employees along with their corresponding duties and responsibilities, as well as a list of all our products and services.

And of course, how could I forget my professional resume?

FOUR: I even looked far into the future and prepared a spiel for when we’d be looking for new employees, as well as a list of rules and regulations to follow if ever anyone would pass our grueling hiring process. My favorite is rule #26, which goes “Drug pushers are not allowed in the store.”

FIVE: While we’re on the topic of business, I guess it’s worth boasting that I was able to sit in a meeting my mom had back in the day with the rest of the members of the Systems and Methods division, and I was asked to take the minutes for a change. I’m aware I’m making absolutely no sense, but after much inferring, I guess it revolves mainly around IT, monitoring procedures and AARs.

SIX: I was a proponent for self-help at a very young age too, creating a list of five rules to live by, which I referred to as my “straight line project”. For which reason, I have absolutely no clue. One part reads: “Always watch out for a kid bullying some one so you can save the person being fought, then do the same thing that the bully kid did to your friend like for example when they are fighting in a swimming pool that the bully is trying to push your friend, you should save your friend and push the bully kid to the pool.” I advised. Turns out I had an attitude and a knack for retributive justice from the very start.

SEVEN: I also found a couple of letters I addressed to Santa as the Christmas season approached, where I requested everything from “world peace” to the entire Diary of A Wimpy Kid series. Talk about being a versatile queen! My favorite of the bunch was the last one I made, where I included directions and a sketch to get to our new house, because we had moved residences earlier that year. I just didn’t want Santa to get lost, and sneak in my old house only to find out that I was no longer there.

(Fortunately, my mom was able to print out all those files I had saved to the family computer before I promptly infected it with a virus that wiped out its entire memory. The lengths seven year old Angel would go just to download Young Guns by Wham! from Limewire.)

EIGHT: I was elected as class president multiple times in grade school, which you would think would mold me into becoming an active student leader. But, my term was constantly shrouded in controversy. I was always tasked to write down the list of noisy students on the blackboard, I’m not exactly sure if this qualifies as public humiliation but I wasn’t concerned with that at the time and did everything I could to fulfill my duty. A classmate of mine was singing a High School Musical song at the top of her lungs, and I asked her to stop. Usually, that does the trick and sends the noisemaker back to their seat but she ran out of the room and brought her mom upstairs because she got upset.

NINE: I also rode on a classmate’s bag, which resulted in her mom going upstairs (I have no idea why their moms spent the entire day in the waiting room on the first floor too, man) and scolding me, saying that her daughter’s bag is not a pony. I was also accused of calling my classmate stupid because she was only Top 7 out of all the students in class, while I was Top 1, which was false by the way since “stupid” was considered a curse word in our household until I was 10. Perhaps the best scuffle I got myself into was because I had checked my classmate’s homework with red crayon and put several drawings of hearts and stars, as well as reassuring comments along the lines of “Great job!” and “Congratulations!” around his perfect score. His father literally had me sent to the principal’s office. Parents then had way too much time on their hands, I swear to God.

TEN: If we don’t take into consideration the whole fiasco that involved my Teletubbies stuffed toy*, my first brush with “love” happened when I was in kindergarten. I had a crush on one of my classmates named Kevin, who is the scrawny little boy that you see beside me in the pictures below. I don’t remember anything else about him, not even his surname, and I haven’t heard of nor seen him since our pre-school graduation ceremony. All I have to remember him by are these photos, and a video that my mom took of both of us where he was seen flapping his arms around and making weird facial expressions, while I would squirm out of kilig in response. Weird. The worst part of it all? I didn’t even like him because he was cute or funny or nice to me: it’s just because he was named after my favorite Backstreet Boy.

(*In case anyone's curious, up until I was about three years old, my parents and I lived in Malabon with my maternal grandmother, who was tasked with taking care of me while my mom and dad were both at work. She was fond of watching Filipino teleseryes while taking care of me: they often had their fair share of kissing scenes, but I was practically a baby at the time who wasn’t capable of processing or remembering the things she was seeing on TV. Or so they thought. My mom said she had walked on two year old me making out with my cousin’s Teletubbies stuffed toy one time. She then promptly asked my lola if they could keep me as far away from the television as possible once Pangako Sa’Yo came on. Can’t blame her for that, honestly.)

That’s all I can think of right now, but I know there’s plenty more where that came from. Hope everyone is having a fruitful Holy Week celebration. Wishing you nothing but love and light, always always always.

Angel

#personal #on brand stories from my childhood #i'm baby #i was so cute as a kid omg what happened #look at all that POTENTIAL #angeltriestoblog #angeltriestoshowhowcuteofakidshewas #angelsucceeded

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writing0nc3again · 6 years

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Who said anything about bed?

His wandering glances always made my skin hot, always made my eyes roll almost automatically. He refused to let me ever forget how interested he was. It always baffled me. The star basketball player, seemingly eight feet tall with perfectly toned arms and shoulder muscles that could make a straight man swoon. A charming smile that could get him out of any trouble, and clear blue eyes that always told a naughty story. He was funny, smart, athletic, and gorgeous – literally the total package, the perfect man. He could have anyone, and he was aware of it. Any of the girls interested in him, all braver than I, would flirtatiously drawl out his name as if to let him know how it would sound from beneath him.

But all he wanted was me. And I had zero intention of letting him get what he wanted. I’d heard horror stories of bets the hot, popular guys made with their friends about bedding that one girl every school has. I didn’t know if I was that one girl, I’d never paid any sort of attention to popularity or being liked. But if I went out with him and got brutally dumped for being too ugly or nerdy or fat I’d become that one girl. And even though popularity never meant much to me, staying in the shadows was always more appealing to me than being known.

But, alas, I was known. Many of my classmates would shoot me glares – the girls usually, the brave ones who wanted him more than I did. Others would look me up and down with confusion furrowing their brows – this look was more expected from the guys who didn’t understand why the crazy hot, smart, funny, charming, perfect basketball star would have any interest in me.

I had no special qualities. My cheekbones weren’t chiseled perfectly, my hair wasn’t sleek and smooth, my tits were hardly even large enough to hold up a pencil. My skin wasn’t clear, my wardrobe wasn’t anything to gawk at, and to top it all off I wasn’t tall and slender like the supermodels.

I’d never seen myself as unattractive, but I’d look up and down the halls and see all the girls who had more of the traditional traits of beauty. Girls with legs that stretched on for miles, with slender waists but full breasts and hips. Others with long, silky hair and cheekbones carved by the gods.

But for some unbeknownst reason he wanted me – and he always loved to make it clear how badly he wanted me.

“Hey E.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I felt him walk up beside me, completely towering over me.

“Yes Greyson?”

He hummed and took up a more permanent spot leaning against the locker beside mine.

“My name on your lips is divine. A breathier tone would be even better.”

My cheeks flushed.

He noticed, and smiled.

“What do you want, Greyson?” I smirked as I drawled his name out the way he’d requested.

He clutched his chest and I laughed.

“I’d love to take you…” he paused, “out tonight.”

He smirked.

“You are not ever taking me to bed, Greyson Turner.”

He laughed. I didn’t.

“Who said anything about bed?” he questioned. “I’d be much more a fan of bending you over the couch, or taking you against a wall…” He shifted toward me as he spoke.

I could feel his presence only inches from my body and my face got warm.

“Ever,” I choked out.

“At least let me make you dinner tonight.” His voice carried no hint of questioning.

I regained my composer at the drop of the innuendo.

“Not interested.”

I didn’t look up.

He didn’t like that, and my locker door swung shut with a flick of his wrist.

I spun on my heels to look up at him.

“Why?”

He smiled.

I didn’t.

“Why not?”

The first bell rang, and I immediately used it as my excuse to leave the conversation.

To my dismay, he fell into step beside me.

“I like you, give me a chance.”

I laughed dryly.

“Like me? You don’t know me!”

He seemed hurt by that.

“We’ve gone to school together for years, of course I know you.”

I shook my head and scoffed.

“Bullshit.”

He laughed.

“I know that you moved here in the eighth grade from New York because your parents got divorced,” he said. “I know you have an older brother who’s in college back in New York.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Those are both common knowledge.”

He shrugged.

“I know that you were very timid when you first moved here.”

“Woooow, all new kids are shy. Next.”

A smile had started to show on my face, but I made sure to keep it hidden from him. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“You’re drawing all the time but you’re unwilling to show anyone your work.”

I shrugged and walked up to my classroom.

“I know you, Evelyn Burke!” he insisted.

I paused and turned to look at him.

“What’s my middle name?” I smirked.

“Rose.”

No hesitation.

I rolled my eyes and laughed.

“Fuck you, Turner.”

And I walked into the classroom.

Exchanges of Greyson proving he knew me continued. Everyday he’d find me at my locker or in the parking lot or walking into a classroom to tell me something he knew about me. Sometimes they were wrong – him trying to deduce a piece of my personality from our encounters. Others were true. Those facts ranged from completely meaningless, to some I was truly surprised he knew. My response was always the same: “Fuck you, Turner” with a laugh, and I remained unconvinced.

For a while anyway. The day the switch flipped he told me why I refused his advances.

“You won’t say yes because you’re scared of the attention. You’d rather be invisible than let anyone get close to you because you think they’d play some cruel joke on you. That you were the butt-end of a joke who now had to face the world.”

The moment he fell into step with me that day something felt different. He seemed so sure of himself. His confidence wasn’t cocky. It was just that: confidence. I couldn’t just brush off this statement like one of the trivial facts he’d spouted for weeks.

And something in my head clicked. Maybe he did know me. Maybe I wasn’t just another face to him. A lump had formed in my throat and caused a shake in my voice.

“Fu-uck you, Turner.”

I could feel the satisfaction radiating off of him.

“So, I’ll pick you up at six?”

I sighed.

“See you at six.”

And I walked into the classroom.

The date was… wonderful. Perfect, in fact. I never thought I could experience someone truly seeing me the way he did that night. He shook my mother’s hand, he complimented my appearance, he opened the car door for me. He did everything right.

We had a picnic on the roof of the building his dad worked in. The food was divine, and the view was better. We talked about everything he’d told me about myself, how accurate they were, how obscenely false others were, and why some of his lucky guesses made me laugh so hard.

We talked the entire night. At one point he started pointing out constellations and I felt like I’d been pulled straight from a shitty movie.

The drive home was an extension of the perfect date. We talked about the music that played, about the horrible radio commercials, and about our favorite kinds of cheese: brie versus gouda got into a pretty heated argument, myself of course being brie, as a civilized person would choose.

And then we pulled up to my house. And part of me felt disappointed.

“I had an amazing time.”

His smile showed how honest he was in the confession.

My cheeks blushed. “I guess I did too,” I replied, begrudgingly.

“I’d really like to kiss you now.”

His cocky confidence had returned, and I laughed.

“I don’t kiss on the first date, I’m not a harlot,” I responded, feigning insult. “Maybe after the next one.”

The cocky confidence changed to pure joy and I couldn’t help but smile, his damn grin was infectious.

“Friday at 8?”

And I nodded.

The dates continued, and feelings that once were only of mild annoyance grew to happiness I hadn’t felt in my life. I learned more about the basketball star than I’d ever dreamed. He was a photographer, but had been dragged into basketball young and fell in love with it, too. His time was balanced perfectly between school, basketball, photography, and me. And after a few months, the ‘me’ category grew, and the photography slipped.

Until the two were combined and I, nothing-special-mediocre-looks-Evelyn Burke became his muse. I’d never seen more pictures of myself in my life than I did in that first week of muse-dom. He praised my inability to pose like a model, and the ‘realness’ that I portrayed.

I thought he was just a horny high school kid trying to get spank-bank material. There was no way he could really see me as such an artistic subject.

There was a night these thoughts faded away. A night that I learned my image wasn’t just used for his own personal gratification.

We were alone in his house, his parents on a business-trip-turned-weekend-getaway. I was studying. Trying to better understand physics concepts that had no place in my brain. He was cleaning his cameras and editing some photos after he’d finished a paper; it was a reward of sorts.

He took a test shot to check the cleanliness of the lens. I’d gotten so accustomed to the click of the camera that it didn’t even phase me, and I didn’t look up.

Until I heard a soft intake of breath and felt the bed shift under me. My textbook was gently removed from my lap, and a hand was placed under my chin. And his lips were on mine.

In that moment, I didn’t realize why that photo had such an impact on him. He’d later share with me that the lighting was just so, my hair fell the perfect way, and the puzzled look on my face made the photo the best he’d ever taken. He was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude.

And then we were together. The kisses escalated from gentle and joyous to filled with love and lust. Shirts were shed, and hands roamed curiously; his much more confident and experienced than my own. Soft “I love you”s were muttered, and the only words spoken for a while.

Until he pulled away to look me in the face, and his words were only just audible.

“I want to taste you.”

Nervously, I nodded, my cheeks flushed bright red.

His lips kissed over my skin and I felt fire everywhere they touched. My neck, my collar bones, breasts, ribs, stomach. Lower.

With his head between my thighs and his talented tongue working magic, everything was a blur. I don’t remember gripping the sheets with intensity, but I remember my wrists being sore after from doing so. I don’t remember moaning his name, but his stories with a huge smile make sure I’ll never forget. I remember the pleasure. The knots in my stomach, the euphoria washing over me.

I remember looking into his devious eyes after, and the grin on his face as he wiped his lower lip before kissing me. I remember the taste on his lips.

And then I remember feeling closer to him than I’d felt to anyone before. He remembers the issues with the condom that caused him to laugh. But I just remember being held, being loved, and being fucked.

#writing #romance #mywriting #light smut #romance writing #love story

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toloveforward · 4 years

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Right Person Will Walk Into Your Life At The Right Time

The Right Person Will Walk Into Your Life At The Right Time

It comes naturally and easily. A man destined by fate. The one with whom you must walk along the Path with all obstacles and hardships.

He comes into our lives easily and naturally. The man who is destined for fate. The one with whom you must walk along the Path with all obstacles and hardships. And in order for this meeting to take place, it is not at all necessary to derive special formulas or study tons of literature on psychology.

The Right Person Will Walk Into Your Life At The Right Time

How do you understand that it is he – your man? To begin with, the identification of “man forever” is not a puzzle that you must solve. And this is not an encrypted message that must be decrypted. You don’t have to get hung up on evidence, signs, reasons and motives to convince yourself that you will be together.

The person you will always be with does not need you to look for evidence of such an obvious fact. Next to him, you will not have to hesitate or cautiously look into the future. Everything will be simple and easy.

This is not the person who, as you hope, will one day come on a white horse with a huge bouquet of flowers and will fall in love forever. And not the one you know well, he loves you, but “just not ready yet.” And this is not the person for whom you are just one of the “exhibits of the collection”. And not the one who hides your relationship “for the time being.” And this is even more so not the person with whom you constantly correspond, but he never talks about his feelings. And not the one with whom you spend a lot of time together, but again – not a word about the important.

The Right Person Will Walk Into Your Life At The Right Time

Everything is much simpler: the person who should be with you will be with you. No matter what the circumstances, and what obstacles you might have to overcome.

Your “man forever” – it exists, whether you want it or not, whether you believe in it or have long stopped waiting.

When you are in a relationship and feel insecurity, indecision, doubt and guess – this is not the same person. When today it seems to you that this person is not closer to the Earth, and tomorrow – on the contrary, this is also not the case. In both cases, the answer is “No.” It’s just that you want too much for this to be the right person, too tired of waiting and hoping. Therefore, you are afraid to tell yourself the truth, to accept it.

Your “man forever” is the one with whom you want to spend all your time. And nothing will prevent it: neither tiredness after work, nor a lot of business and problems. This is the one with whom you will argue on only one topic: which cafe to go to on Friday night and what dishes to order, and not about whether it will be possible to break out and “sit” this time. This is not the one with whom you are just together, because it happened or everyone should have a couple.

Your “man forever” is the one next to whom you will feel real. Stop monitoring to always look perfect or not say stupid things.

Your person is the one next to whom you will feel safe. Forget about how you were always afraid to let someone too close to avoid pain and disappointment. You will forget how terrified the very thought that you can be seen as real.

The Right Person Will Walk Into Your Life At The Right Time

This is a person whose presence in your life will literally change everything. Everything will work out for you at work, you will become prettier, learn to sing, dance, dream – yes anything. You will immediately notice these changes because nothing like this has ever happened before.

The thing is that people are much easier than we love to invent. Do not be fooled. Do not revel in false, albeit sweet illusions.

Everything is very simple: if someone is constantly not with you when you need him, this person does not want to be with you.

If they don’t call you, it’s not because they are too busy or their cat is sick. They just don’t want to talk to you. If they don’t do something, it’s not because they cannot, do not have time or do not realize that you would be pleased. They just don’t want to do this.

This is the harsh truth of life. That is the reality. And you can draw parallel reality in your head as much as you want and come up with excuses for your partner, but that will not change anything. They won’t call you. You will not be called for a walk Saturday night. Because they don’t want it. Because you came up with them. Just like they came up with love and romantic gestures, which they never did and are not going to. You can dream and believe ad infinitum, but they DO NOT WANT.

Attraction and passion are one thing. It is easy and enjoyable. Obligations are another matter. This is more complicated. It scares many. Annoying. Repels.

Therefore, learn to distinguish between relationships that are real and will work and those that, in fact, are not at all. So-so: met and fled.

They just want you or not. No other options are given.

Your “man forever” is the one who always comes. This is the one who does not need to explain to himself whether he wants to be near you. These are not always those people with whom you never argue and are alike in everything. But he is the one with whom you want to wake up in the morning. To smile. Hug. The one with whom you are bound by an invisible thread forever.

Love is easy. This is when you are afraid to lose.

And no matter how painful you are, do not hold on to those who will manage perfectly and do without you.

Wait until you meet a person next to whom you will neither hesitate nor doubt. The person you should be with is the one you just will be with. Therefore, do not waste time on the “wrong” ones. Learn to wait, and your “man forever” will certainly appear.

The post Right Person Will Walk Into Your Life At The Right Time appeared first on ToLoveForward.

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ella-animine · 7 years

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It's kinda late, but I did make some Heith content for @shir-oh-no I don't think it's possible to have enough Heith content. He didn't know what he was doing. Of course he didn't know what he was doing! This was stupid, it was all so stupid! He had been alone for most of his life, maybe there had been a good reason for that, and it never mattered until now. It never mattered until him. Keith stood in the hallway, grimacing, arms crossed over his chest, pressed against the wall. To anyone on the outside it might look as if he were brooding, but he was actually pouting. He knew Hunk liked him, he had been told as much. There was irrefutable proof that Hunk thought Keith was dateable boyfriend material. They had been on exactly one date, and that had been interrupted by a call to get to their lions to follow up on a false alarm that left them too exhausted to even think of finishing the poor excuse for a date. What weighed on Keith's mind the most was the thought that every romantic interaction had been lead or initiated by Hunk, Keith following along like an asphyxiating man searching for a gulp of cool air. Hunk was Keith's cool air, helping him breathe easy. Keith loved the way he felt with Hunk, but there was still doubt in the back of his mind that he was good enough, or that Hunk wouldn't get tired of leading him through the motions. He simply didn't know how romantic relationships worked. But Keith was willing to learn for Hunk; he was willing to step out of his comfort zone to woo Hunk the way he deserved. So armed with advice from someone who knew a little something about both traditional romancing and Hunk, Keith just had to work up the courage to put the advice into practice. Which brings the story back to its current position... pouting in the hall trying to work up to approaching Hunk. "Keith?" Scratch that, panicking in the hall trying to find some way to explain himself to Hunk. "Uhh, yeah? What's going on, uh, buddy. Hunk. Hunk buddy?" Keith went through an awkward fidget of uncrossing his arms, bolting straight up, trying to slip his hands into pockets, crossing his arms, leaning against the wall, sliding down the wall, and finally settling into a tense stance masquerading as a relaxed one. "What's good?" "... Keith are you okay?" Hunk asked, looking both concerned and confused. He looked so good, Keith had to focus on the game plan. "Yeah, of course." Keith shrugged, but it felt awkward. "I was thinking about... stuff." "Stuff?" "Yeah, you know how it is. Being the red paladin and all." Keith tried to seem nonchalant but the way Hunks brow grew closer was certainly not comforting. "Uh... no. No not really." Hunk's confused expression morphed into something halfway between amusement and confusion. "I wouldn't know anything about being the red paladin." "Right." Keith held his breath. "Obviously. I'm the, uh, the red paladin." "Right." Hunk smiled. "Anyway, that weirdness aside, I was looking for you." "You were... looking for me?" Keith's expression fell into something of a lovesick puppy for a moment. Then he remembered the advice given to him, "stay cool. Act aloof, you're good at that." "Uh, cool. Yeah. What for? I'm pretty busy." "Well I mean," Hunks hand came up to grip onto his shoulder, like he's nervous. "I just wanted to spend time with you. I like spending time with you." Hunk glanced to find Keith's eyes. "But if your busy I could-" "No!" Keith corrected himself with a cough. "Nah, no. It's fine. Pff, I'll just... blow it off." Keith glanced to the side, hoping he looked cool pretending to be casual. Hunk's smile grew, but he tried to school it into something small, not wanting to laugh at the obvious show Keith was putting on. "Are you sure? It seems like it's pretty important." "Yeah! I'd blow a lot of..." Keith watched Hunks eyebrow quirk up. "I mean, I'd blow up, uh... I would blow OFF, things for you." Keith corrected looking Hunk directly in the eyes, beginning to flush but trying to pretend he wasn't. "I want to spend time with you too." "Oh. Well, good!" Hunk smiled. "I was thinking we could just, spend time, together." Hunk smiled softly with a hint of, something else. Keith's stomach fluttered nervously. "Alone... together." Keith had to remember how to breathe, he felt like he was suffocating but his face hadn't moved an inch. "Sounds great. Hanging out, uh, alone sounds..." Quick Keith, find an adjective you haven't used yet. "Cool." Damn. "Yeah. It does sound cool." Hunk smiled and reached out to touch Keith's shoulder. Keith tried to contain himself, but he did let his expression soften. ~~~ "Well... we're certainly alone." The amusement in Hunk's voice was all but lost on Keith who was struggling to keep his cool while his insides tried to explode out of his body. In hindsight, perhaps the castle's version of what would have been a broom closet wasn't the ideal place to be alone together. "We could go somewhere else if you, uh..." Keith couldn't even look at him. "It's fine." Hunk practically whispered. Now that they were close Keith was wracking his brain for what came next. Was it strong declarations of love? No no... it was, "I don't want to sound, uh... mushy?" Good, good. Still aloof. "But if I were trying to be mushy, I'd tell you that I... I would commit arson for you?" The concerned and slightly uncomfortable look on Hunks face gave Keith pause. "Not, serious arson? Like, only a misdemeanor? No one would get hurt just... burning, for you?" "Uhh, okay?" Hunk responded, very confused. "That sounds really dangerous and... illegal. Keith, really it's okay." Hunk smiled and tried to draw Keith's eyes to his own. "You don't have to commit a felony for me. In fact, I'd prefer you didn't." Keith nodded his head enthusiastically. "But, the sentiment was there." Hunk looked at him tenderly. "I think." Okay, a small bump in the road, but Keith could still pull this back. What other advice had he been given? "I heard you like bad boys?" Keith stammered. "Well I'm pretty bad... so bad I could commit uh, m-no, uhm... jaywalking?" "Keith are you feeding me lines?" Hunk looked at him almost in surprise. "Are you... are you trying to pick me up?" Hunk laughed and Keith felt shame rise up in his chest. "Uhm, yes and no?" Keith mumbled. He was about to bolt out of the closet when a hand, soft but calloused from saving the universe, found his cheek and stroked it affectionately. Keith let himself lean into the touch, but tried to form his expression into something other than unabashed adoration. "Keith... I'm not really sure what you're trying to accomplish, but you should know that I already think the world of you." Hunk whispered. "And I think you're perfect being you, and that's what I love about you. You're not perfect, and you're figuring things out all the time, and honestly it's really adorable." Hunk chuckled and Keith felt fluttery again. "You're trying so hard to impress me by being a bad boy, or pretending to be some mysterious, busy, hotshot... but you don't have to." Hunk raised his other hand to cradle Keith's face, with stars in his eyes, right in the palms of his hands. "Keith Kogane, I have the most hopeless crush on you, and I hope that all of this bad acting means you like me back just as much." "I do." Keith found the air to breathe, but found himself breathless again staring at Hunk in the dim lighting of the closet. Bottles with illegible writing framed them, and oddly shaped brooms and mops pressed them close. "I like you so much it... it makes me stupid." Hunk laughed and held onto Keith, lovingly looking into his eyes at the star struck visage. "Can I kiss you Keith?" Hunk mumbled, stepping impossibly closer. Keith swallowed his own tongue and nodded aggressively, trying to convey how much he wanted that too. "Yes." He choked out. "I'd like that." Neither of them could have pictured their first kiss happening in a broom closet, but Hunk couldn't be bothered to care when Keith literally melted closer at the attention lavished on him, so desperate to touch and feel, craving the earth that radiated from Hunk's body and soul. In the hazy light from under the door Hunk could just make out the outline of Keith's face, looking beautiful despite the pile of rags behind him. He didn't care, hands finding their way to a slim waist between kisses Hunk tried to take in every possible moment of Keith as they pressed together. Keith's hands slid up Hunk's chest, gripping onto his shirt and tugging to draw himself up and deeper into the kiss. "Keith," Hunk spoke up, hands holding Keith close. "I want to ask you something but-" "Yes." Keith replied breathlessly, pulling Hunk down to kiss him again. "If we're thinking the same thing, then... yes." The soft look of adoration on Keith's face made Hunk's chest warm. "Were you thinking about being my boyfriend?" Hunk wrapped his arms around Keith's waist comfortably. "I was hopeful?" Keith smiled sheepishly. Hunk smiled and held Keith close to his heart as it thudded against his chest in excitement and a little bit of anxiety over what the near future could hold. But they would weather it together.

#shir oh no #Heith #Hunk #Keith #soft Heith

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motivationsuccess · 5 years

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public speaking for success

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quess-writes · 7 years

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//Holy crap Enma’s one turned out longer than I expected//

Undercut for length

Tsuna

Tsuna is insecure as he is so when rumours arose that you were, well, essentially cheating on him, he panicked. Hard. You were so handsome and had both males and female admirers . He wanted to talk to you about it but never gathered the courage to. Will you confirm it? He doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle that. Will you deny it? He’d take your word for it but there would always be a lingering green monster whispering in his ear. So against his better judgement Reborn he started to follow you.

First of all, he’s a horrible spy and tapping into his HDWM will light a giant fucking fireball on his head so that plan was a no-go (he has the subtly of a kid on crack). Actually, he stumbled upon you by complete accident. He lost you somewhere in the market area and decided to abort mission for that day - what was he going to do? Stand around like a lost puppy? But as he was heading back, his intuition was nagging at him to go the other way. So naturally he followed.

Through dense forestry and unpaved roads, Tsuna stumbled stumbled an abandoned warehouse of some sorts. Dead trees, debris, broken crates littered the area.

One look and he left - wait? Feet? What are you doing? Turn back around! Why are you going closer to the LITERAL FUNHOUSE OF SERIAL KILLERS???

Upon entering Tsuna will scream. He’s seen some shit from Reborn’s training and the mafia but oh lord, that’s so much blood. And in the middle of it all is a limp man suspended in the air by the hands of some man covered in blood. His body was taunt, fangs sharp with broken sunglasses hooked onto the curve of his shirt as piercing red eyes bore straight into his victim.

Recognizing the scream, you quickly turned your head, dropping the limp body; like a deer in headlights, you froze. “T-Tsuna! It’s not it looks like…?” Great excuse brain.

“What are you…?” Of course he recognized you. You could see Tsuna’s hyper intuition working itself trying to rationalize the situation. “There’s blood on your f-face.“

You stuttered, your mind going into overdrive trying to think of some bullshit way out. Can you use the prank excuse again? No you already used that too many times. Maybe the whole dream thing? Like that’ll work. Shit.

Meanwhile, Tsuna was equally uncomfortable abut the situation as you were. Does this explain your tendency to stay in the shade? He just thought you get hot easily underneath all that clothes. Your preference for late night dates? He’s never dated before so he followed your lead. Wearing sunglasses indoors and circle lens all the time? He just thought you were manly and cool the bodyguards you see in anime. Your inhumane strength? The mafia warped his brain on what was considered and accepted as “normal” - he forgot that normal everyday citizens couldn’t just jump twenty feet in the air. No wonder you ate so little, skipped physical ed. all together and still looked like a fucking model.

“Tsuna…?“ you say, unsure.

He snaps out of his thoughts, straightening up. “Y-Yes?“

You wipe your mouth and throat trying to appear non-threatening as possible - though it made it worse as your clothes were smeared with blood. “I’m not going to hurt anyone.“ His eyes gravitates over the body discarded next to you. “He’s not dead, I swear! A-And I swear I didn’t bring someone from their homes or something!” You could feel your cold, undead body getting colder. “He was out in one of those red light districts drunk off his ass harassing some girls so I stepped in and got him here and I did something that was necessary for me I didn’t beat him up or anything he was just so drunk that when he tried to hit me I dodged and the momentum flew him straight into those crates outside and I brought his unconscious body inside-“

You rambled on, Tsuna’s nerves calming down as he saw the unconscious man’s chest moving and your regular self back in you. Of course you wouldn’t kill someone! Even covered in blood you were still the same cute and slightly awkward mess he fell in love with.

But that still didn’t explain the blood.

“-and well… Oh… that…“ He said that out loud, didn’t he? “I’m. Err…“

Tsuna could hear his heart pounding but his intuition told him to trust you - or at least hear you out. “Please tell me the truth. I know you. You wouldn’t do something like this out of pleasure or sport. So please, tell me the truth.“

You closed your eyes. Could you trust him? No, you could. This was Tsuna, the most kindest humans you’ve ever met. He wasn’t like the others. Like them. “…please promise me you won’t run or attack me or scream or try to kill me. At least not without hearing me out.”

His eyes widened bigger than saucers. Just what were you hiding to say those things? Just what did you go through to say those things? “I promise.“

You took one more breath before confessing, “I’m a vampire.”

Byakuran

When Byakuran was faced with problems, he would consult his parallel selves. But you were the one person he couldn’t extract any information from for various reasons. It gave him a bit of anxiety that the relationship may not work but you proved him wrong on several occasions. That is until the rumours started. Byakuran, surrounded by weird people and being one himself, didn’t notice all your suspicious actions. Well, he did notice but he didn’t particularly care. You weren’t betraying him or attracting unwanted attention so he let you do your thing. It honestly shouldn’t have bothered him, rumours were mostly consisted of false pretenses after all, but what irked him was you. You denied the rummours but gave him some bullshit excuse to as why you left in the middle of the night with a pair of clothes and some needles.

(When Byakuran pointed that out, you could only reply with, “No, I’m not a drug addict calm down. It’s just for a friend’s experiment I’m helping with. We’re testing on honeypot ants and how food colouring changes the honey in their abdomen.”)

So naturally, he followed you out of curiosity. Though his previous selves might have been prone to jealousy, his present self rarely felt envious. He had no reason to be because once you were in a relationship with him, like it or not, you were his. So any other men, or dare he say women, who tried to seduce you were like trying to fight a toddler - not even worth it and so easily... discouraged given the right circumstances.

During another one of your “science experiments” he had followed you to an abandoned house in the middle of scenic nowhere. He was instantly intrigued. There was no way you would try to fuck an unconscious person in a dinky little shack when there were hundreds of love hotels located around you - no matter how paranoid someone was. So either you were a hitman or an unregistered scientist. Either way, he wanted to know what you were doing.

Okay, that wasn’t what he expected.

What he expected was you being from another famiglia or a freelance hitman disposing of a body or something. Not laying them down, checking their vitals, then drawing some blood, testing for negatives, then drinking it. You didn’t even for for their jugular, you just extracted their blood, placed it in a glass, then tended to the bleeding man before sitting down on a nearby couch and drinking it while scrolling through your phone. Well, no one can’t say you weren’t classy.

Byakuran left without another word after confirming all he needed to. “A vampire, perhaps a dhampir, hmmm?” Byakuran hummed happily, “I heard the wendigo were also blood suckers and even in some myths shape-shifters. Considering his human appearance vampire has the highest possibility.” He chuckled, calling Kikyo to cancel all his appointments for the week. “Well, I guess some punishments are in order for that naughty lover of mine.”

It was one thing to hide something, but to hide it from him? Good luck, friend.

Enma

Enma wasn’t exactly the picture-perfect boyfriend or friend in general so when he heard of your “nightly escapades” his reaction shifted back and forth from defeated acceptance to burning white fury (10% himself, 30% you, 60% this “mystery man/woman”). Though his unstable emotions were nothing compared to the absolute rage his family felt.

He didn’t even want to confront you about it - maybe if he lived in ignorance, it’ll all just go away? You were still nice to him at school and everything so maybe the rumours were baseless and from the mill. But it was late one night where he was off feeding one of the stray cats under the bridge he spotted you crossing it… with your arms over some busty woman. Laughing. Joking. Smiling.

His heart shattered into million pieces.

He felt as if every one of his heart strings snapped, and someone set his blood ablaze. His throat was dry, his eyes glossy, and it wasn’t until the warmth of the kitten he was feeding rubbing against him that he snapped out of it. He laughed humourlessly, stroking its chin mechanically. Of course. He should’ve excepted it. You were strong, smart, funny, handsome; comparing him to you was unfair. He left the scene knowing his rage taking over wouldn’t solve anything. It’s wouldn’t take the pain away. It wouldn’t.

Because he still loved you.

The moment he stepped into the house, his family (especially Adelheid) noticed his depressed mood. They tried to cheer him up without bring the situation up knowing it had something to do it you. Enma, ever the introvert, was rarely depressed (shy and anxious maybe but depressed? Never.) so the only person who could’ve made him like this was you. Days passed and the Shimon refused nay and all contact between you and Enma.

You were confused. Why was the Shimon acting like this? Why was Enma avoiding you? Did you do something wrong? Was something going on? With no answers and no one else to turn to, your turned towards the night. You didn’t want to, but at times like this, it felt just like that incident.

(You needed a distraction and what better way for a filthy monster like yourself to do what you do best?)

It was about a week later when Enma saw you again. He was under the bridge feeding the local strays when he heard you talking to someone. Peeking out through the shadow of the bridge, he saw you carrying an unconscious man into a forest? Honestly he could care less what you were doing but he needed confirmation. He had to see you in the act with his own two eyes so he could extinguish any love he still had left for you. So he did.

What he expected was some kinky outdoor voyeur shit. The last thing he would ever think in his mind was you walking into an abandoned building, setting the man down over a small make-shift bed made of wooden boxes and tarps, leaning over his sleeping body, and biting his neck.

Enma just stared in morbid awe and fear as your sharp fangs dug into his flesh, your tongue lapping up the blood like sweet honey. You weren’t exactly the epitome of perfection in this scene but you still managed to look beautiful even with that blood painting your face and staining your shirt. He couldn’t look away. On one hand, he was relieved you weren’t cheating on him so the dread in his heart was gone. But on the other hand, seeing you like this? A completely new dread filled his heart.

You were in the middle of a feeding frenzy. You could smell the sweet nectar of succulent humans every step you took and your primitive desires tempted you to act upon those urges. But you didn’t - at least not in the way you attacked every human you saw. You hunted and targeted drunk humans, people who were alone intoxicated. It wasn’t the most ethical thing to do but for someone like yourself, what could you do? You practically lived in the red light district these days. Enma was your boyfriend and though Tsuna and the others were great, you couldn’t feel the same connection as you did with Enma. But that didn’t matter now, did it? It all started this way. First they would distance themselves from you then they would never return. He was just like them. The same thing happened now as it did last time.

The guilt of feeding masked the pain of loneliness well.

Just stopped right before the man’s blood smelled thin, the pain hitting you harder as the taste of blood left your mouth. Thankfully you smelled another human nearby. This one smelled good, familiar, reminiscent. You wondered how long this one would last.

Enma saw your head detaching from the man’s neck, the man still breathing. He stared at you, the light of the moon lining your form in a pale ethereal glow. Your eyes were crimson - like fresh blood dripping into a rose. Enma would be lying if he didn’t find you incredibly attractive despite the blood (to be fair he’s seen much worse for less).

You just stood there, your desperate tongue savouring every last drop like a parched man deprived of his basic needs given a glass of water. Then you just stopped, twitching. And before Enma could even question you odd behaviour, his vision blurred and his body met the ground.

Enma groaned, opening his eyes to see your panting face. Your eyes were glazed, hands covering his mouth, fangs ready for the incision. He tried to push you off, but your other hand kept his arms in check. Kicking you off was no good as your blood-fueled body was vastly stronger than his noodle limbs. In one last desperate attempt, he called out your name.

It worked.

“E-Enma…?“ you said in disbelief. “What are you-?“ No… Where you about to hurt your own boyfriend!? No. No. No! You sprung away from him like he was scalding water. You hugged yourself, unsure if the action was to protect yourself or protecting him. You knew you were a monster but this? This was too much. All you wanted was to forget, not hurt!

Enma saw your claws dig into your skin, hyperventilating. In the midst of your meltdown, he walked over to you slowly, giving you enough space so you wouldn’t feel threatened but close enough to thwart your escape. He called out your name several times, using the softest voice he could muster, as if he was talking to one of his kittens. "Don’t hurt yourself, I know it was an accident. I’m not hurt. Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you and I won’t run. Can I come closer? Please? I’m walking over there slowly, okay? I promise I won’t do anything you don’t like. And you can tell me to stop if you feel uncomfortable.” He came closer, and for some reason you listened. “See? I’m here now. Not a single scratch on me - well, besides from the usual anyways - but nothing from you. I’m going to get a little closer, okay? Are you cold? Do you want my jacket? It’s not much but it’s better than nothing. No, actually it’s great because you stitched it up for me remember? It has your gentle handiwork on it.”

Before you knew what happened, Enma’s arms were around you, his warmth encompassing your cold, undead body, and thought your mind told you to leave - to run - your body melted into his embrace.

#khr imagines #khr scenarios #vongola #sawada tsunayoshi #shimon #enma kozato #millefiore #byakuran gesso

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lesbianlametron · 7 years

Text

Bokuroo Week Day 2

Prompt: Inside Jokes

Title: Bonding at Training Camp

Rating: T

Summary: It’s time for the annual Tokyo summer training camp. Bokuto brings up an inside joke between him and Kuroo. It brings up memories of their first training camp. How did the two of them go from hating each during their first year to boyfriends now? Only and hour locked in a supply closet will tell.

Inspired by this post by @asahisbunhair

As the time came nearer from the other schools to arrive at the training camp, Kenma could feel Kuroo basically vibrating in his seat from excitement. They had gotten a little practice in earlier, but now they were taking a break. They had to be good hosts and greet their guests, after all. “Kuro. You literally live ten minutes from Bokuto-san and you see him like every weekend. I don’t get why you’re so excited.”

Kuroo grinned at Kenma and elbowed him in the ribs. Kenma didn’t look up from his game, but made a face at his friend. “Because Kenma, I get spend the whole training camp with him! We don’t even have to go home in between. I mean, yeah, we make time for each other, but school and practice keep us busy. This is an excuse to practice together and just be around each other. Also, we’re both in our prime being third years. Kou is better than ever and I’ve been perfecting my blocking techniques. This is our last training camp together too.”

“But Kuro, you both have plans to go to college together.”

“Oh, come on, you can’t tell me you’re not excited to spend time with Akaashi.” Kuroo winked at him, but Kenma refused to answer. His provocation skills did work, but only because he knew Kenma so well. It was subtle but the corners of Kenma’s turned up and there was a barely noticeable blush on his cheeks. Kuroo smiled to himself and he was glad Kenma was happy as he was even though Kenma would never show it. “That first year from Karasuno should be here too.”

“You mean Shoyo? I just think he’s interesting, that’s all.” Kenma’s tone was even, but he knew what Kuroo was trying to get at.

“It’s okay to admit he’s your friend, you know.”

Before Kenma could respond, the coach called them to attention. “The buses are starting to arrive, go greet our guests and please be hospitable.”

Kuroo’s eyes lit up and Kenma rolled his eyes. He led the team outside and his eyes scanned the area for a certain white uniform, but he didn’t need to search for long. Bokuto was looking for him as well. “TETSUUUUUUUU!” As usual, Kuroo heard his boyfriend before he saw him. Bokuto tore through the crowd and Kuroo braced himself for impact. Bokuto ran at him at full speed and jumped into his arms. He wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s neck and he legs up around Kuroo’s hips like a koala. Several of the Nekoma team members laughed and others groaned, used to the sight by now. Kuroo and Bokuto always acted like this no matter how much or how little time they spent apart. Bokuto was incredibly extra and Kuroo fed off of it. Somewhere in the crowd Akaashi was face palming at their PDA and thought made Kuroo laugh. He didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed by Bokuto’s actions because he was just as excited to see Bokuto.

“You must have put on some muscle lately, Kou, you’re heavier than I remember.” Kuroo teased but grinned as Bokuto nuzzled his cheek against Kuroo’s before placing a kiss there.

“You too, because you haven’t dropped me.”

“Babe. I would never!”

“Bokuto-san there are other people around, you know.” Akaashi said as he walked through the crowd to break up the couple. He was the only one who ever dared to come between them. He was basically Bokuto’s keeper, after all. He gave a small smile to Kenma who returned it with a bashful smile of his own.

“Geez, Akaashi, I’m just greeting my boyfriend. Give me a break.” Bokuto gave Kuroo a quick peck on the lips before putting his feet down and begrudgingly pulling away.

“You’re being completely inappropriate as usual.” Akaashi deadpanned and Kenma laughed at him. He loved Akaashi’s dry sense of humor because it matched his own.

“Later, Kou, I have to go greet our new comers.” Kuroo whispered in his ear. “We’ll definitely get a lot of extra practice together later.” He walked over to greet the Karasuno team. “Daichi, glad you could make.”

Daichi’s smile was polite but the tension was the same between them as always. They were cordial, but internally they pissed each other off. “Thanks for including us this year.”

“Yeah, well, you actually seem like formidable opponents this year.” Kuroo smirked and greeted the rest of the team as well. “Let me show you to our main gym.” He looked around and noticed the freaky first year duo wasn’t among them. Tanaka and Noya were as noisy as usual, but otherwise the team was quiet. “Seems like you’re missing a few members.”

“Yeah, Hinata and Kageyama had to take supplementary classes.”

“Supplementary classes, huh? Shame, Kenma was looking forward to playing against the Shrimp.”

“I was not, Kuro.” Kemna quipped from his side.

Kuroo smirked at his friend and led them into the gym. “Make yourselves at home and start warming up, I’ve got to get a few things from the supply closet.”

“Tetsu! Don’t get yourself locked in there.” Bokuto called from across the gym. They made eye contact and both burst out laughing.

“Only if you’re in there with me, Kou.” Kuroo yelled back and the two laughed again.

Daichi raised an eyebrow but didn’t say question it. Spontaneous laughter was quite common between the couple.

“It’s an inside joke between them. Something to do with how they got together.” Kenma said quietly to clarify. Kuroo winked at Daichi and walked into the closet, thinking back on their first training camp.

It was during Bokuto and Kuroo’s first year when they met. Fukurodani was attending Nekoma’s training camp and they couldn’t stand each other. Bokuto was still cultivating his spiking skills and Kuroo was a just starting to become a crafty, intuitive player. He could read Bokuto’s moves after a few games against him and it pissed Bokuto off more than anything.

“Ugh, I can’t stand that first year, number 4. He’s so loud and annoying.” Kuroo whispered obviously to one of his teammates. They had just finished their final match and Nekoma had come out on top. It had been a grueling, close game and took all three sets and then some in the last to complete. Kuroo was feeling a bit smug and began his favorite past time of provoking others. Bokuto was an easy target and Kuroo loved messing with him the most. His reactions were always over the top and it amused Kuroo to no end.

“I heard that, you jerk! At least I’m not a know-it-all show off like you.” Bokuto yelled from the other side of the court.

“Oh yeah? That’s because I mean you to hear it, idiot.” Kuroo walked up to the net dividing them and sneered him down.

“You stupid cat!” Bokuto stomped his way up to the net as well, getting up in Kuroo’s face. “I may be loud, but at least I can out spike you any day!”

“Really?” Kuroo crossed his arms. “Tell that to all the spikes that I blocked. You’re completely predictable by now, you piece of shit.”

“You just got lucky. You think you’re all cool and smart because you think you can read plays.” Bokuto ducked under the net and shoved Kuroo’s chest. “And what’s with your stupid hair? Why would you take the time to style it in a mess like that?”

“At least I don’t spike mine up to look like an owl and this is all natural. And excuse you, asshole, I can read plays. At least I know how to recover from a bad play and don’t get all pouty like a child when my spikes get blocked.” Kuroo glared at Bokuto and smacked Bokuto’s hands away.

“I’m not like a child! I’m going to be the best ace in country by my third year.”

“I doubt it.”

“Excuse me? And what do you expect to become? An even shitter middle blocker? Captain? No one would take direction from you.”

“At least my teammates wouldn’t have to use false praise to cheer me up.”

“Take that back!”

“Never.”

Bokuto reared back to clenched his fist, ready to sock Kuroo in the face, when the team captains stepped in between them. “Kuroo, back off.”

“Take a step back and cool off.” The Fukurodani captain placed his hand on Bokuto’s chest and pushed him back. “Bokuto, you don’t want to get suspended for hitting him. We’re all sick of this. You’re staying after to clean the gym.”

“You too, Kuroo.” Both of them protested by the captains didn’t waver one bit and threatened to kick them off their respective teams. They both loved volleyball more than they hated one another so they reluctantly backed down and got to work. Neither spoke directly to one another, but grumbled under their breaths about the other.

It was when they were almost done and putting supplies away in the storage closet when Bokuto accidentally tripped over the doorstop holding the door open. It swung shut and slammed with a loud bang that echoed through the empty gym. “Good going, you clumsy idiot.” Kuroo snorted.

“Shut up. It’s dark in here.” Bokuto stood up and tried to open the door but it didn’t budge. Bokuto’s eyes grew wide and he felt panic flood through him. He tried the handle again, jiggling it a few times, trying not to draw Kuroo’s attention. “Shit.” He cursed under his breath when the door still didn’t open.

Kuroo heard the curse and turned his attention to Bokuto. It was pitch black in the room so he couldn’t see what Bokuto was doing. “What?”

Bokuto sighed and finally admitted it, “…We’re uh, kinda locked in here.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Maybe you’re too stupid to open a door properly.” Kuroo walked like Frankenstein as he tried to feel his way to the door. Bokuto heard a loud thump and Kuroo cursing. He didn’t want to laugh in this situation, but it was hilarious to hear his rival getting hurt. A few more bumps and stumbles and curses later, Kuroo finally made it to the door.

“For a cat, you’re kinda clumsy.”

“Shut it! It’s dark in here.” Kuroo ran his hands over the smooth wood of the door until they found the round metal knob he’d been searching for. He ran his fingers over the knob feeling for the slot for a key but there was none. Unfortunately, this door only unlocked from the outside. He turned the knob, but it didn’t click or turn like he hoped. “You piece of shit! The door can’t be unlocked from this side! I’m going to kill you.” They stared at each other for a moment, although neither could tell if they were actually glaring at each other or just at the wall. They both broke after a minute and started banging on the door and yelling for help.

“Come on, there has to be someone out there.” Bokuto groaned, hoping that someone would come get them or hear them.

“They left us!” Kuroo yelled at Bokuto, “this was our punishment after all. Of course, everyone already went to their rooms. Good job genius, now we’re stuck in here.” Bokuto continued to bang on the door, but Kuroo had already accepted their fate. They’d just have to wait until someone realized they were missing.

“No one’s there.” Bokuto said after a few mintues of banging.

“No shit.”

“I’m glaring out you, but you just can’t see it.” Bokuto felt along the wall by the door. His fingers fumbled along the drywall until he found the raised shape he was looking for. He flicked the switch down and the florescent lights buzzed to life, flooding the storage closet with their yellow light.

“Oh, looks like you can do something right after all.” Kuroo muttered and walked over to make himself comfortable on one of the mats. He claimed the mat first since it was Bokuto’s fault and he assumed they’d probably be sleeping here.

Bokuto walked over and slid against the opposite wall, staying as far away from Kuroo as possible. “I can do a lot things right!”

“Don’t talk to me.” Kuroo growled, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked away. He wouldn’t be in this situation if it hadn’t been for Bokuto and his stupid mouth or his dumb overreactions. Bokuto nearly punching him was what got them in trouble in the first place.

Bokuto had to admit he did feel pretty bad about accidentally locking them both in here. He kind of wanted to apologize for that, but his pride was stopping him. The atmosphere in the room was so tense and awkward Bokuto swore he could nearly see it, like a fog swirling with bad energy. He snuck glances at Kuroo when Kuroo wasn’t looking and he swore Kuroo was doing the same. After a minute, he started chewing his lip and looking around the room. After two he started playing with a fraying hem on his shorts. He wasn’t really good at doing nothing or being quiet. After five minutes, he grabbed a volleyball and started twirling it on his finger. After ten minutes, he was looking at Kuroo again. After twenty minutes, he was bored out of his mind and wondered what Kuroo was thinking about. His eyes drifted off to Kuroo’s hair and curiosity got the best of him.

“Does your hair really look like naturally?”

Kuroo was caught a bit off guard, Bokuto’s tone was rid of all venom and mockery this time. “Yeah. It looks like that when I wake up. I’ve tried gelling it and stuff, but I have a habit of absently running my hands through it when I’m studying. The gel just made it more of a mess.”

“I guess that’s kind of cool.” Bokuto said, forgetting a bit that he was supposed to hate Kuroo.

“I’d be curious to see what yours looks like without the gel.” Kuroo was bored too and decided to indulge Bokuto. This was the first time since the start of camp that they weren’t screaming at each other.

“It’s pretty flat and it gets in my eyes, so I gel it to keep it out of the way. I also happen to think it looks cool.”

“It’s all right.”

Bokuto’s eyes lit up and leaned forward a bit. “Was that almost a compliment?”

“You did it to me earlier.” They both looked at each other and Kuroo had to admit, it was kind of endearing that a simple half-compliment had made Bokuto happy. There was something sweet about how little things could make Bokuto happy.

“I think you could be a good captain in the future, you’re actually a natural teacher. You just have to use your sass for good.” Bokuto smirked at him.

Kuroo couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped his lips. Apparently all Bokuto needed to open up was a little kindness. “I suppose, I think you could be a good ace if you could be more consistent and get your moods in check.” Kuroo was still acting like being nice to Bokuto was like pulling teeth, but regardless, he still meant it.

“I was actually impressed by your blocking and reading skills.” Bokuto rubbed the back of his neck and broke eye contact with Kuroo to hide his embarrassment. “I was actually kind of jealous.” He didn’t plan on admitting that, but it now they there were being cordial, it seemed okay.

“I think your spiking power is pretty amazing. I was jealous too, not a lot, just a little.” There was something about Bokuto’s honesty that made Kuroo want to be honest and real as well. “So, you hated me because you were jealous?”

“I didn’t hate you…well I did, but because I think you could be a good volleyball player. You’re kind of an annoying opponent.”

“I hated you because you’re a loud and annoying player. You draw attention and you actually deserve it. It’s infuriating to play against.”

“Maybe you could teach me how to block?” Bokuto knew this truce between them was new and he was nervous as he tested the waters.

Kuroo smirked, but Bokuto’s honest, sheepish smile made that smirk turn into a genuine smile. “Maybe I will, but I can’t tell you all my secrets. I won’t lose against you.”

“I won’t lose against you either! You’ll see, by next year, I’ll be on a whole other level.”

“Same goes for me.” Kuroo shot back and a silence fell between them again. Both were grinning at each other and the silence was no longer tense, it was almost friendly. It stretched out for another ten minutes before Bokuto got uncomfortable sitting on the floor. Cautiously, he stood up and walked over to where Kuroo was perched on top of the mats. He watched Kuroo’s eyes and when they didn’t glare at him, he slid down against the wall, taking a seat next to him.

“What? You’re hogging the mats and the floor’s getting uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“So, what do you do outside of volleyball and school?”

Kuroo shrugged. “I play video games. I have an xbox one, so I play like Overwatch, COD, but I also have a Steam account so I play a lot of random games on my PC too. Kenma’s a huge gamer and got me addicted.”

“Dude me too! I play those games. We should play together sometime.”

“Yeah? Just don’t get moody when I kick your ass.”

“No way man!” Both boys started to relax and their animosity had all but melted away. “Do you play any other sports?”

“Nah, I do like running though.”

“Me too, bro. There’s something freeing and relaxing about running, y’know?”

Kuroo nodded and gazed off into the distance as he thought about it. “Dude, I do. It’s like if I run fast enough I could go anywhere and no one could catch me.”

“Exactly! I run when I’m stressed out.”

“Same.” Kuroo looked at Bokuto out of the corner of his eye and noticed Bokuto’s toned biceps. He’d spent so much time angry at Bokuto he didn’t really get a good look at him before. Up close Bokuto had a really handsome face and his arms looked strong. Kuroo wanted to hit himself of thinking about it, but he bet if Bokuto would hold him in those arms, he’d feel protected. Like no one could ever hurt him. Could you not for a moment. Kuroo scolded himself and shook his head, trying to stop himself from thinking like that. “With those biceps, you must lift in your free time.”

Bokuto grinned and flexed for Kuroo. “Yeah dude! I have to strengthen my arms to get the best powerful spikes.”

“Do you have a girlfriend? I bet the girls at your school would like it.” And I kinda do to…fuck…

“No.” Bokuto suddenly looked sad and Kuroo regretted asking. “I was totally into this girl in my class. I used to help her with your math homework and stuff. I just asked her out before we came here…” He teared up and Kuroo’s heart went out to Bokuto. He’d felt that before.

“Come here, big guy.”

Bokuto didn’t hesitate and scooted closer and laid his head on Kuroo’s shoulder. Bokuto nuzzled his face into Kuroo’s neck and wrapped an arm around his torso. “Dude. I haven’t even told my team about this. I asked her out and she said no. She did thank me for helping her get an A on her test. She was flirting with me! I can be kind of dense with those things, but another girl in my class said she was. She used me to get an A and rejected me just like that. It was like I didn’t matter. Who does that?”

“Oh, shit. That’s sucks Bo. I wouldn’t reject you, bro.” Kuroo really felt compassion for his former rival and ran a hand through Bokuto’s hair. He was surprised that even with all the product in his hair, it managed to stay soft. They would have quite the story to tell when they got out of here. No one would believe it. Bokuto and I hated the shit out each other and now we’re…I don’t know…friends?

“Bro…” Bokuto was about to continue but the locked clicked loudly and the door swung open.

“What the hell?” The Nekoma captain was staring at them, completely taken aback. “It’s been like two hours since I told you to clean up so I came looking for you. And this is what I came back to? What happened?”

Bokuto quickly pulled away from Kuroo and wiped his eyes. Kuroo looked at Bokuto with a smile and answered for them. “Bokuto accidentally got us locked in here. We thought we’d have to wait until morning.”

“Yeah, we were bored and started talking. We totally bonded!” Bokuto smiled and stood up, offering a hand to Kuroo up. Kuroo took his hand gratefully and stood up. He wished he had his phone so he could take a picture of the captain’s face. The frozen surprise and slight horror was priceless.

“I don’t have enough energy right now for this. Just get your things and get to bed.” The captain said, shaking his head as he exited the gym.

Bokuto and Kuroo both looked at each other for a moment before they both burst out laughing. They doubled over, the laugh shaking through their bodies, and it caused tears to come to their eyes. their roaring laughter didn’t die down for several minutes.

Kuroo was gasping for air by the time he was able to speak again. “Dude. Did you see his face?”

“Bro, he was kinda terrified as well as surprised.”

“He was so done with us.”

“True!”

Bokuto smiled at Kuroo, and for the first time, he was kind of sad that they were going to leave tomorrow. “I think I’m going to miss you.”

Kuroo blinked a couple of times, not sure if he heard Bokuto right. He looked into those big, beautiful, golden eyes and they were as sincere as ever. it made him feel warm and tingly inside like he’d just stepped into a warm shower. “You know, me too. We should hang out sometime.”

“That’d be awesome.”

Kuroo shook his head and grabbed his bag, leading the way out the gym. “Bro, this is crazy. You were my rival when this camp started and now we’re friends.”

Bokuto grinned, “I know. I think it’s kind of cool.” Bokuto held a hand out for a high five and Kuroo didn’t even hesitate to return it.

“Don’t think I’ll be going easy on you now that we’re friends.”

“You better not, I might actually punch you in your pretty face.”

Kuroo bit his lip and was glad it was dark outside so Bokuto couldn’t see the blush that just spread across his ‘pretty face’. “No! I need my looks, it’s all I have.” Kuroo responded back dramatically, making Bokuto laugh again.

“Kou! I need your strong arms to help me with this!” Kuroo yelled coming back to the present. If he had thought Bokuto’s arms were sexy then, they were even more so now. Bokuto did get stronger and broader shoulders by the next year and Kuroo was in trouble.

Bokuto’s eyes lit up just like they did when Kuroo first complimented him and he ran across the gym. “Of course, you do! No one’s got guns like these!”

Kuroo grinned at him and kicked the closet door shut after Bokuto entered. “Oops.”

Bokuto smirked and him and backed Kuroo’s body into the wall. “They’ll come get us when they need to start the games.” Kuroo looked down at him and grabbed the front of Bokuto’s shirt, pulling him close, but not close enough. Their lips were inches apart and Bokuto could feel the heat radiating off Kuroo’s body. “Stop being a tease already.” Bokuto murmured, brushing their lips together as he did. Kuroo lost the rest of his restraint and kissed Bokuto with feverish excitement. The kiss was passionate and a bit needy from their time apart. They wasted no time pushing forward, lips parted and tongues brushed together. Bokuto let out a soft moan and Kuroo got lost on how soft Bokuto’s lips felt against his own. This time, they can’t say they minded being trapped together.

#bokuroo week #bokuroo week 2017 #inspired again #asahisbunhair #my writing #inside jokes #day 2 #haikyuu!!#will eventually be uploaded to AO3

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