#{fic}

[partiallysame]

Ghost Gets No Bitches pt. 3

Word Count: 2300

Content warnings: smut, Sub!simon, unprotected sex, P in V, this got a lil freak nasty 

(ahhhh this is my first smut im big nervous)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 2.5

Simon followed you up the stairs to your apartment, palms sweating, pants tight. The second the lock clicked and the door swung open you grabbed Simon by the belt pulling him inside, immediately leaning up against the now closed door he had to put his hands out to stop from crashing into you. Caged between his arms you tugged his shirt bringing his lips to yours. Your hands began to roam all over his defined chest while one of his gripped your hip pulling you into him. “Couch” you mumbled between kisses, barely pulling away enough to speak the word. Feet fumbling, both refusing to separate enough to look where you were going. Once the back of his calves touched the couch you pushed his chest forcing him down onto the couch, taking a moment to look at the way his pupils were dilated, chest heaving and arms reaching to bring you back to him. Lifting one leg on either side of his lap, you straddled him, lips finding their way to his neck. Leaving a wet trail of bites and kisses on his neck you began to tug at the hem of his shirt, prompting him to take it off. The moan that left your lips at his exposed torso made his grip on your thighs tighten. Simon had never been ogled like this. You were looking at him like he was a full course meal that you were going to eat and lick the plate clean. Your lips found his again, body beginning to grind onto his. His large hands pulled your dress up enough to expose your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh helping you grind onto him. The friction of his jeans on your clothed crotch had you letting little mewls in his ear. His hands began to tug a little more at your dress until you pulled away from him. 

“Use your words.” Your lips were puffy and the way you were looking at him, Simon didn’t think any coherent thoughts could come out.

“Off.” You cocked your head to the side slightly, not moving to follow his request. 

“What was that?” Your voice dripping with innocence but he knew it was anything but.

“Take this off.” You just raised your eyebrows at him. “Fuck take this off, please.” The last word came out more of a breath than an actual sound. 

“Good boy.” You pulled the dress over your head exposing the matching lingerie set you had been wearing. Fuck you were wearing this all night? Simon took a deep breath, groaning at the sight in front of him. You started to remove yourself from him but his hands slid from your thighs to your hips keeping you in place. “Just taking this to the bed, thats all.” you reassured him.

“Tell me where, love?” His grip tightened as he stood with you still attached to him, legs wrapping around his thick torso. This time his lips found your neck trailing their way across the vein there until he found a spot that made your breathing pick up. As he neared your room, your hand found its way into his hair. A hard tug at the roots of his blonde hair pulled his mouth from you and the whimper that he let out was a noise he didn’t know he could make. You moved his head to the side to give space to bite down on his neck, sucking and leaving a deep purple mark. Fuck his legs were gonna give out if you kept doing that. He walked the two of you further in until he could set you down on the bed. Leaning back onto your hands, you looked at him with hooded eyes. Simon never thought he’d get into heaven but here he was, staring at your almost naked body, sitting waiting patiently for him. “Off” your foot trailed up his thigh before putting the smallest amount of pressure on the outline of his cock over his jeans. 

“Yes Ma’am.” The words left his lips before he knew what he was saying but the phrase went straight to your core. His pants fell to the floor and you licked your lips, staring shamelessly at his fucking huge cock pressed against his stomach. 

“You know Simon,” You slid from the bed to drop to your knees in front of him, “You’ve been so good today. Do you think you deserve a reward?” Hands sliding up and down his thick thighs, feeling the way they would tighten and flex under your touch. He started to nod but stopped himself. Words Simon.

“Yes Please.” Simon Ghost Riley couldn’t remember the last time he used the word ‘please’ but here he was whimpering it for the second time. His breath was shaking as you got closer to him. Simon’s cock twitched, your breath fanned over it, but you hadn’t touched him yet. Lowering yourself so your face was centimeters away from the base of his cock, teasing him with your warm breath, lips so close to doing what he needed you to. His hands were in fists, trying so hard to keep composed, to let you tease him, to not put his hand onto your head and pull you closer. Looking up and locking eyes with him, your tongue traced a long line from the base of his cock to the tip, eliciting a long moan from him. Hands gripping the base, adjusting the angle, you took him into your mouth fully, without warning. You hummed, tasting the salty precum, the vibrations making his legs shake. His hand found its way to your hair so gently, scared to make the wrong move. Your mouth worked up and down his length, tongue pressing into the prominent vein on the underside of his cock and swirling around the tip. It only took a few seconds for his grip on your hair to tighten. He felt like a fucking teenager, about to cum this fast. 

“wait not yet” He tried to pull himself from you but you pulled the back of his thighs, cock hitting the back of your throat, you swallowed around him and he was a goner. A broken moan left him as he shot his load down your throat. Slowly removing him from your mouth, you stood up and pulled him down into a kiss, making him taste himself from your lips. You spun the two of you, hands pressing onto his chest pushing him down onto the bed.

“I’m not done with you yet, Lieutenant.” His cock twitched hearing you use his rank. Pressing into his chest until he laid flat, your legs wrapping around to straddle him again. Your hand found his jaw, gripping and moving his head slightly so your lips could brush against his ear, “the first one was your reward. But you’re going to beg for the next one.” Lowering your hips enough, Simon could feel your soaked panties slide across his already hard cock. His hands tried to slide their way up your thighs, but you gripped his wrists, pressing them above his head. “No touching without permission, Lieutenant.” He nodded and kept his hands above his head, gripping the pillow when you let go of him. You pressed your lips onto his and Simon tried to lean into you as much as possible, loving the feeling of your control over him. He let out a disappointed whine when you pulled your body from his, clothed pussy no longer dragging against his cock. A wet trail of kisses were left from his neck down to his chest, tongue swirling over his nipple, his hips bucked up involuntarily at the sensation. Your hand found his jaw again, grip tighter than the last time, “Behave.” 

“M’sorry fuck please.” His accent thick as he began to whine. 

“Please what Simon?”  You started the trail of kisses again, moving down his stomach getting so close to his cock again. 

“Please can I touch you?” His knuckles had turned white from the death grip he had on the pillow. Your lips were now hovering over the tip of his cock, teasingly you blew air over his slit and his hands shot down to you. Before they could reach you, you made a “tsk” noise and his hands found the sheets next to his thighs. You hadn’t given him permission yet. Fuck he can do this, he can be good for you. 

“Good boy.” You smirked as you moved further from his cock, nails dragging lightly up and down his muscular thighs, watching as this giant man twitched under you. Removing yourself from the bed just long enough to slide your panties down your thighs, Simon couldn’t look anywhere but at your glistening core. Straddling him again, you leaned back against his thighs, giving him the perfect view of your body and your dripping pussy. 

“Please let me touch you, please.” His hands lifted slightly trying so hard to behave for you. 

“No.” He wanted to let out a groan but the sound stopped in his throat when he watched you trail your own hand down your stomach and further down until your fingers spread your folds open, coating themselves in your slick. “Open.” It was an order and Simon oh so happily obeyed, opening his mouth as you leaned forward, pushing your wet fingers into his mouth so he could taste you. His tongue wrapped around your fingers and you bit your lip at the sight in front of you. Removing your fingers from his mouth, you slid your pussy across his painfully hard cock. How wet you were and the pressure on him had his head spinning and pleads pouring from his mouth. 

“Fuck please, need to touch you.” His eyes had started to get glossy from all the teasing.

“Go ahead Simon. Touch.” Large hands immediately found your tits, palming at them for a moment before one hand slid down to find your clit, rubbing soft circles. The moan you let out almost broke whatever resolve he had left. Lifting your body just enough, you reached down to grab his cock and line it up with your slit. You lowered yourself slightly, the tip of his cock pressing ever so slightly into you, but stopping there. “Do you want it?” Simon’s eyes were pulled from where you two were connecting to your eyes, head nodding fast. “Then beg for it.” You pulled your body up until his cock was no longer touching you and Simon had never felt more desperate in his life. 

“Fuck please. Need it. Need you Please lovie. I just… please” Hearing his gruff voice whine and beg for you made you lower yourself again but just enough to how you were, his tip barely in you. “Please please please let me make you feel good. Please use me.” Tears were threatening to spill at the feeling of your walls gripping him but knowing you could pull away at any moment. 

“You’re so good for me Simon.” You slowly slid down until he was fully sheathed in you. Your hands placed heavy on his chest, nails digging in as you tried to adjust to his massive size, eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. Beginning to bounce at an agonizingly slow pace, his hands found your ass, wanting to urge you to speed up but knowing he’d be in trouble if he did. Fuck you’re so tight around him. Whimpers had been falling from his mouth the second you slid down on him. Bottoming out, your pussy clenched around him and he bucked his hips. Fuck he didn’t mean to. He was scared you were going to pull off of him but instead you let out a pornographic moan at the action, his cock hitting that spongy spot in you. 

“Again.” You said trying to keep control but fuck did he feel good, you were losing your grip on reality too. He thrust again and again, your hands planted firmly on his chest holding on for dear life. “Make me cum Simon.” Fuck you didn’t have to tell him twice. He brought one hand to your clit again rubbing messy circles as you bounced up and down on his cock. He could feel you tightening, he could tell you were so close. Fuck he was trying to keep his own release at bay. A few more thrusts from him and you were falling over the edge. He didn’t think you could get any tighter but the feeling of you cumming on his cock was nothing less than pure bliss. His thrusts started to get sloppy and you could tell he was getting close. One of your hands slid from his chest to his throat, hand gripping his neck with just enough pressure to capture his attention. “I told you, you’re gonna have to beg for this one.” You slid off of him slightly, once again only keeping his tip inside of your velvet walls, backing up your statement. Not letting him get too close without following your orders. 

“Please fuck please I’ve been so good. Been a good boy.” His cock could feel you tighten around him, clearly liking the way he was begging. “Let me be your good boy. Fill you up. Please, please please.” The ‘please’s continued as you sunk back down onto him. Leaning down to whisper in his ear. 

“Fill me up then.” Moving back to look at his fucked out face, Simon pulled you into a messy kiss, needing to feel your lips on his, a few final thrusts he emptied his load in you with the most pathetic sounding moan of his life.

He could never tell the 141 about this.

Tag list: @zoexme @booboobear-12 @pileofmoss77 @monnikashui018 @jovialwerewolfarcade

[daydreamshenanigans]

This. I do this so much. Listen good writing is good writing and frankly? I love analyzing good writing.

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.

[memorabxlia]

Tied Up ━ 방찬

genre: smut summary: “It’s long enough to tie you to the bed.” warnings: language, bondage, oral (fem receiving), begging, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (wrap up irl!), Chan is referenced as Chris in this, I most definitely forgot something pairing: boyfriend!bangchan x fem!reader wc: 1.2k a/n: DAY 12!!! nets: @blossomnet @k-labels @k-films

The room smells like pine and cinnamon, a lingering reminder of the Christmas morning chaos. The discarded wrapping paper is scattered across the floor, remnants of gifts exchanged with laughter and delight. You’re perched on the edge of the bed, holding a long piece of red ribbon, about to toss it into the trash when Chris stops you.

“Hey, don’t throw that away,” he says, his voice low and teasing. His eyes gleam with mischief as he plucks the ribbon from your fingers, letting it slide through his hands like silk.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. “And what exactly are you planning to do with this? Tie up some more presents?”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he steps closer. His body radiates warmth, and you feel the heat of him even before he touches you. “Oh, no. This has a much better use.” He leans in, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispers, “It’s long enough to tie you to the bed.”

Your stomach flips, a mix of surprise and anticipation coiling tight inside you. “Is that so?” you murmur, your voice trembling just slightly. The idea sends a shiver down your spine, but not one of fear—no, it’s something far more electric.

Chris smirks, his hand trailing up your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “You’ve been teasing me all morning,” he says, his tone playful but laced with something darker, needier. “Every time you bent over to pick up a gift, every time you leaned forward to grab a cookie… you’ve been driving me crazy. And now…” He holds up the ribbon, letting it dangle between his fingers. “Now I think it’s my turn to have a little fun.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “And what if I say no?”

His grin widens, and there’s a glint in his eye that makes your knees weak. “You won’t.”

Before you can protest, he’s gently pushing you back onto the bed, the soft comforter cushioning your fall. The ribbon slips around your wrists, cool and smooth against your skin. You gasp as he tugs lightly, testing the knot, and then secures your hands to the headboard. The sensation is strange but thrilling, the way the ribbon bites just enough to remind you that you’re at his mercy.

“Comfortable?” he asks, his voice dripping with faux concern.

You tug experimentally at the restraints, feeling the ribbon hold firm. “Not bad,” you admit, trying to sound casual despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

Chris laughs, a deep, rich sound that fills the room. “Good. Because I’m just getting started.”

He kneels between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs. His touch is warm, possessive, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as it travels over your body. Slowly, deliberately, he traces patterns on your skin, his fingertips skimming higher and higher until they brush against the fabric of your panties.

You bite your lip, arching into his touch, but he pulls back, smirking. “Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “I want you to beg for it.”

You groan, frustration mixing with arousal. “Chris…”

“Shh,” he interrupts, pressing a finger to your lips. “Patience.”

He drags his hands back down your thighs, his touch feather-light. Then, without warning, he brings his palm down sharply against the tender flesh of your inner thigh. The sting catches you off guard, and you yelp, your hips jerking involuntarily.

“Sensitive, huh?” he teases, his voice dark with amusement. He does it again, this time on the other side, and you squirm, the sensation mingling pain with pleasure in a way that leaves you breathless.

“Chris, please,” you whimper, your voice breaking. The ribbon tightens as you pull against it, your body straining toward him.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your hipbone. “Please what?” he asks, his breath hot against your skin.

You moan, unable to form coherent words. He takes that as encouragement, his mouth moving lower, trailing kisses along the curve of your thigh. When he reaches the juncture of your legs, he pauses, his breath ghosting over your aching core.

“Tell me,” he demands, his voice a growl.

“Eat me out,” you plead, desperate for relief. “Please, Chris, please.”

He doesn’t make you wait any longer. In one swift motion, he yanks your panties aside and buries his face between your legs, his tongue delving deep into your slick folds. The sensation is overwhelming, and you cry out, your hands clenching into fists above your head.

He moans against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His tongue flicks over your clit, fast and relentless, and you writhe beneath him, helpless under the onslaught of pleasure. Every lick, every suck, feels like it’s lighting you on fire from the inside out.

“So good,” he growls, his voice muffled against you. “You taste fucking incredible.”

His hunger is insatiable, his movements almost frenzied as he devours you like a man starved. You can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with each passing second. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, your back arching off the bed as you hurtle toward the edge.

“Chris, I’m—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as he sucks hard on your clit, tipping you over the edge. Pleasure explodes through you, white-hot and all-consuming, and you scream his name as you come undone.

He doesn’t let up, his tongue coaxing every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body. By the time he finally pulls away, you’re a wrung-out mess, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. He climbs up your body, settling between your legs, and you can feel the hardness of him pressing against your thigh.

“Need you,” you whisper, your voice hoarse.

“You’ll get me,” he promises, his eyes dark with lust. “But first…” He grabs the end of the ribbon, slowly pulling it free from the headboard. Your arms fall limply to your sides, but before you can move them, he’s gathering your wrists together and securing them once more, this time behind your back.

“Chris,” you protest weakly, though you’re too spent to put up much of a fight.

He silences you with a kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth as he positions himself at your entrance. “Trust me,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re going to love this.”

And then he’s inside you, filling you completely in one fierce thrust. You gasp, your nails digging into your palms as he sets a brutal pace, fucking you deep and hard. Every stroke pushes you closer to the edge again, your body already wound tight from your last orgasm.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips as he slams into you. “So tight, so perfect.”

You can’t speak, can’t think, can only feel as he drives into you with unrelenting force. The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your combined moans echoing off the walls.

“Cum for me again,” he commands, his voice raw with need. “I want to feel you—”

The words are cut off as your body convulses around him, another wave of pleasure crashing over you. He follows close behind, his release spilling deep inside you as he collapses on top of you, his breathing ragged.

For a moment, you both lie there, tangled together in the aftermath. Then, with a wicked grin, Chris sits up, his eyes gleaming with renewed mischief. “Think we should save the rest of the ribbon for later?”

❥﹒ stray kids taglist: @minkilicious @casemoa143 @instabull @lice @amarecerasus

[scarletwinterxx]

i only think of you, will we be together soon? - choi seungcheol scenario

soooo hellooo ~ this is just a quick epilogue/pt 2 of the seungcheol scenario i wrote, you can read it here. I just thought i should atleast write their first kiss🥺🥺🥺 and it's soooo cute. anyways i hope you like it🤍

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

It was an unusual sight—Seungcheol sleeping in on a weekend.

Usually, he'd be up early, either at the gym or getting a head start on errands. But today, he was sprawled across his bed, face buried in his pillow, the blanket barely covering his bare back. His room was dim, the only light filtering through the gap in his curtains.

When you let yourself into his apartment, calling out his name and getting no response, you knew exactly where to find him. Quietly opening the door to his bedroom, you peeked in, finding him sound asleep. His hair was a mess, his broad shoulders rising and falling with his deep breaths.

A mischievous grin spread across your face. Creeping toward the bed, you carefully climbed onto it, trying not to wake him too soon. Then, without warning, you flopped onto his back, draping yourself over him like a blanket.

"Cheol," you called softly, your voice sing-song as you poked his shoulder. "Wake up~."

He groaned into his pillow, his voice muffled but clearly displeased. "Five more minutes..."

"Nope," you chirped, wiggling a little to get comfortable on top of him. "I need you to drive me somewhere!"

He cracked one eye open, groaning again as he turned his head slightly. "Where?" His voice was raspy, thick with sleep, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing.

"The dog café!" you announced, resting your chin on his shoulder. "I’ve been wanting to go, and you promised you’d take me!"

He sighed dramatically, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "Why can’t you let me sleep in peace?"

"Because you’re Seungcheol, and you love me,"

The smile on your face growing, since that moment at the beach there's this blanket of unspoken feelings that doesn't really need to said because at the end of the day he knows you and you know him.

At that, he cracked a small smile, though his eyes were still closed. "You’re lucky I do."

He shifted beneath you, effortlessly flipping over so you were lying on his chest instead of his back. His arms lazily wrapped around you, trapping you in place.

"Cheol, you’re supposed to be getting up," you protested, though you didn’t try to move

"Mm," he hummed, pulling you closer. "Five minutes. Then we’ll go to your dog café."

"That’s what you said before!"

He chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, but this time I mean it."

You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to win. But as he held you, his warmth and steady heartbeat lulling you into comfort, you figured maybe five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

After Seungcheol finally got out of bed (which, in reality, took more than just five minutes), the two of you headed out to the dog café you’d been pestering him about all week. He still looked groggy as he drove, his hair tousled and his hoodie lazily thrown on.

"You’re lucky I like dogs," he muttered, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as you excitedly bounced in the passenger seat.

"You’re lucky you like *me*," you shot back with a grin, hugging your knees to your chest as you turned to face him.

He just shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

When you arrived, the café was bustling with happy barks and wagging tails. The moment you stepped inside, a small golden retriever puppy trotted up to you, wagging its tail so hard it looked like it might take off.

"Oh my God, Cheol, look at this baby!" you squealed, crouching down to pet the dog. The puppy immediately rolled onto its back, demanding belly rubs, which you happily obliged.

Seungcheol stood nearby, watching you with a fond expression as you giggled and cooed over the dog. "You’re worse than the dogs," he teased, crossing his arms.

"Excuse me? They’re adorable!" you retorted, looking up at him from your spot on the floor.

He crouched down beside you, scratching behind the puppy’s ears. "Yeah, they are," he admitted, his voice softer now.

You spent the next hour playing with various dogs, from energetic beagles to sleepy bulldogs, while Seungcheol alternated between joining in and watching you from a distance. At one point, a particularly bold corgi jumped into his lap, and you nearly cried laughing at the sight of big, tough Seungcheol awkwardly trying to balance the squirming dog.

"Cheol, you look so cute," you teased, snapping a picture on your phone.

He gave you a mock glare. "Delete that."

"Nope," you said, grinning mischievously.

When it was finally time to leave, you reluctantly said goodbye to the dogs, practically dragging your feet as Seungcheol led you back to the car.

"Happy now?" he asked as he opened the passenger door for you

"Very," you said, your face still lit up with joy.

As he got into the driver’s seat, he glanced over at you, shaking his head with a smile. "You’re such a kid."

"And yet, here you are," you replied, sticking your tongue out at him.

He laughed, shaking his head again. "Yeah, here I am," he said softly, as if to himself.

Then, with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console, he added, "Let me know when you want to go again."

Your heart fluttered a little at his words, but you played it off, leaning your head back against the seat with a satisfied sigh. "You’re the best, Cheol."

He didn’t say anything, but the smile on his face as he drove you home spoke volumes.

Since he went with you to the dog cafe, it only felt right to go with him too if he wants to do something he likes. Unlucky for you, Seungcheol lives an active lifestyle.

Seungcheol chuckled as he watched you trudge behind him on the trail, your arms crossed and a dramatic pout plastered on your face.

The usually peaceful sound of nature was interrupted by the crunch of your footsteps and the occasional sigh you let out. He stopped to let you catch up, turning to look at your grumpy expression.

“You hate it that much?” he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You nodded like a child, your bottom lip jutting out even more. “I hate it,” you grumbled. “The bugs, the sweating, the uphill part—ugh, especially the uphill part.”

He laughed softly and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You could’ve just said so, baby. I wouldn’t have forced you.”

You shook your head, looking down at the ground. “But you wanted me to join you,” you mumbled. “And you always try out my hobbies, so I figured I should try yours too.”

Seungcheol’s grin softened into something warmer as he stepped closer, his hands gently settling on your shoulders. “Yah,” he said, his tone tender, “you didn’t have to do this just for me. I don’t want you to be miserable.”

“I’m not miserable,” you argued halfheartedly, though your pout betrayed you. “I’m just… not enjoying it.”

That made him laugh again. He bent down slightly to meet your eyes. “Let’s turn back, hmm? We can go grab something to eat instead. How does that sound?”

Your eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Really? You’re not upset?”

“How could I be upset when you’re this cute?” he said, pinching your cheek lightly. “You tried for me, and that means a lot. But next time, I’ll make sure we do something we both enjoy.”

You smiled, your pout finally replaced with a more genuine expression. “Okay. But no more hiking.”

“No more hiking,” he promised, taking your hand as the two of you turned back down the trail. “But I’ll probably still tease you about this for the rest of your life.”

“Cheol!” You groaned, and he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening as he led you back toward the car, already thinking of how to spoil you for putting up with his hobby.

It was one of those rare, lazy afternoons when the group was hanging out at Jeonghan’s place, sprawled across his living room in varying states of relaxation.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, quietly sipping on your drink, while Seungcheol sat beside you, one arm casually slung across the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder.

Jeonghan, ever the instigator, watched the two of you with a knowing glint in his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he smirked. “So,” he started, drawing out the word like it was some grand announcement. “Are you two, like, officially a couple now?”

You froze mid-sip, eyes darting to Seungcheol. He didn’t even flinch, just let out a small exhale through his nose as if he’d been expecting the question.

“I mean...” he began, his voice trailing off as he scratched the back of his neck, his gaze flicking to you for a split second before settling back on Jeonghan.

“What kind of answer is that?” Jeonghan said, feigning exasperation. “You either are or you aren’t.”

Seungkwan, perched on the armrest of a nearby chair, chimed in, his grin wide. “Yeah, hyung, spill it. The suspense is killing us.”

You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyperaware of Seungcheol’s hand now fully resting on your shoulder. “I—uh—” you stammered, unsure of what to say.

Seungcheol finally turned his head to look at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Whatever she wants us to be,” he said simply, his tone steady but laced with something unspoken.

The room went silent for a beat before Jeonghan groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “That’s not an answer, Cheol!”

Seungkwan burst into laughter, clapping his hands. “I swear, you two are impossible.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but Seungcheol just chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly against your shoulder in reassurance.

“I think we’re doing just fine,” he said calmly, shooting Jeonghan a pointed look that clearly said, *drop it.*

Jeonghan raised his hands in surrender, though the smirk never left his face. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I’m not keeping an eye on you two.”

As the conversation shifted to another topic, you glanced at Seungcheol, your lips twitching into a small, shy smile. He caught your gaze and leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ve got this... whatever *this* is.”

And somehow, that was all the reassurance you needed.

Later he drives you home, the hum of the car engine was the only sound filling the space between you and Seungcheol. The evening air was cool, and the faint smell of his cologne lingered in the car, you fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket you were wearing, the fabric too big for you but warm and comforting, much like the man sitting next to you.

“So…” you started, your voice timid, breaking the silence. “Are we like… what are we…”

You trailed off, unsure how to word the question that had been buzzing in your head since Jeonghan’s teasing earlier.

Seungcheol glanced at you briefly, his expression calm, but you could see the flicker of something softer in his eyes. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the armrest. “You don’t have to overthink their question,” he said gently. “No rush…”

“Yeah, but I want to know too,” you mumbled quietly, almost shyly, cutting him off before he could finish.

His grip on the wheel tightened just a fraction, and he let out a soft exhale. He pulled the car to a stop at a red light, finally turning his full attention to you.

You were twiddling with the sleeve of his jacket, your fingers nervously tugging at the fabric. That familiar pout was back, the one he could never seem to resist.

“Y/N…” he started, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You peeked up at him, your eyes big and vulnerable, and it hit him again—how deep he was, how there was no getting out of this even if he wanted to.

“You really want to know?” he asked, his voice dipping lower.

You nodded, your teeth catching your bottom lip nervously.

He leaned back in his seat, his gaze steady on yours. “You’re…” He hesitated for a brief second before letting the words fall out. “You’re the person I think about first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. You’re the one I’d drop everything for, no questions asked. And you’re the only one I want sitting next to me, wearing my jacket, pouting at me like that.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by his sudden honesty.

“So, what are we?” he continued, his lips quirking into the smallest smile. “We’re whatever you want us to be. But if it’s up to me…” He reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours. “We’re already everything.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, his words wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket. “Cheol…”

The light turned green, but he didn’t move the car immediately, his eyes still locked on you. “So?” he prompted, his tone lighter now. “What are we, Y/N?”

You gave him a shy smile, your fingers brushing against his. “I think we’re everything too,” you whispered.

He grinned then, that dimpled, boyish grin that made your chest feel tight. “Good,” he said simply, as if that was all he needed to hear.

And with that, he shifted gears and drove on, the air between you lighter but filled with an unspoken promise.

The quiet of the evening wrapped around you both as Seungcheol walked you to your apartment. The city was alive in the distance, but here, on the dimly lit stairs leading to your door, it was just the two of you.

You stopped at the top, turning to him as he stood a step below, his broad shoulders at perfect height for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers naturally found their way to the ends of his hair, twisting the soft strands between them.

He looked up at you, his dark eyes warm and fond, his dimples making an appearance as he gave you that small, knowing smile. “What?” he asked, his voice quiet but teasing, like he already knew what you were going to say.

You smiled back, tilting your head slightly as if studying his face. “Nothing,” you said, your voice soft, your heart full. “I love you.”

For a moment, his smile faltered—not from doubt, but from the overwhelming warmth that bloomed across his chest.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned closer, the space between you shrinking as his lips brushed yours in the softest, most tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It was steady and gentle, like the beginning of something infinite.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hand lifting to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice low but certain.

You couldn’t help but smile again, leaning into his touch, your forehead resting lightly against his. “Good,” you whispered, your fingers still playing with his hair.

His lips quirked into another grin, his dimples deepening. “Good,” he echoed softly, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Then he kisses you again.

And in that quiet moment, on the top of those stairs, it was as though the rest of the world ceased to exist. There was just you, Seungcheol, and the unspoken promise that this—whatever it was—was everything you’d both ever need.

[ineedminions]

That's when you drop a simple comment of "another kudos" into the comment box and hit submit. You can add more to it than that but that's a good start.

"you've already left kudos here. :)" ok and I'll leave some more. You got a problem? Because in my opinion, this work is so good and the author totally deserves it

[trulyy-yourzz]

✿fluff - b.e x reader

I know we all need a little something to make us feel better (I'm still mourning😞), so as a fellow billie writer, and for the requests in my inbox, here you go my loves 💕 I hope you enjoyy. Mwa!

ʚɞ

Billie sat hunched on the edge of her bed, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She had just gotten back from the Grammy Awards, seeing all her friends and peers winning awards left and right while she came away with nothing. It stung more than she ever could have imagined. And she didn't expect it to.

There was a soft knock at her bedroom door before it opened, revealing you, her girlfriend. Billie looked up at you with a sad smile, trying to be strong even though she felt like crumbling inside.

"Hey, can I come in?" You asked softly, your voice filled with concern.

Billie nodded, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. "Yeah, of course. I could use the company right now."

You entered the room and closed the door behind you. then making your way over to sit beside Billie on the bed. You wrapped a comforting arm around the singer's shoulders, pulling her close. "I'm so sorry about tonight, Bille. I know how much the Grammys meant to you," you murmured, rubbing your hand soothingly along Billie's arm.

Billie let out a shaky sigh, leaning into your touch. "I just...I don't get it. I poured my heart and soul into my album. I thought for sure I had a shot at winning something, anything really. But... nothing. It's like, what's the point?" Her voice cracked with emotion as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. You tightened her embrace, letting Billie cry into your shoulder.

"You can't think like that," you said firmly but kindly. "Your music means everything to so many people, including me. The fact that you didn't win an award doesn't diminish your talent or your impact."

Billie sniffled and pulled back to look at you with loving eyes. "You really mean that?"

You nodded, cupping Billie's face in your hands. "I do Billie, you're an incredible artist and an even more incredible person. Don't let one night or a silly little award define you or your career. Your album is beyond amazing."

Billie felt a small smile tug at her lips as she gazed into your earnest eyes. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to do anything without me," you said with a warm smile, cupping her cheek and leaning in to plant a soft kiss on her lips.

"We're in this together, love..."

°

°

°

Notes: screaming, crying, and throwing up!

That's all❤️

[livelaughlou]

okay, since an attempt at fluff was made by my lil angst fiend @cjlouwho, I'm honoring the parameters of our bet. Here's some angst. I would like you guys to know that my soul hurts after this and I'm gonna go back to writing day 4 of bucktommyfluffebruary immediately.

Ordinarily, Buck loves the sound of Tommy's breathing. He will always remember late nights, Tommy breathing into his ear words of love and adoration and early morning breathy laughs into his neck as Buck prepares breakfast. Now, though....well, now, it's torture.

Buck cups his face and listens to the labored breaths coming from Tommy's mouth, the slight coughs that make blood spots litter his lips. He wants to tune it out, he wants to not be here at all, but neither of those things can happen.

"Buck-" Tommy rasps, coughing again, but the 'Buck' is the worst sound, because he knows what that means, the same way Tommy used it last year when he ran away scared. He also remembers the promises Tommy made when they got back together that he would never use it again.

But they never expected to be here, in this broken wreck of a car at the bottom of some ravine in the middle of nowhere, and this is Tommy trying to distance himself, he can't run...but he can try to make it hurt less, though both of them know that this can't hurt less now. They're beyond that.

"Don't," Buck snaps. "Don't you dare. We go out, we go out as us, do you hear me? Evan and Tommy."

Tommy nods and his eyes flutter. "...love you."

Buck chokes on a sob. "I love you too. They're coming, okay? They're coming."

His own chest hurts and he knows it has nothing to do with heartbreak. He's pretty sure he broke a couple of ribs in the crash and one of them is close to puncturing a lung...but Tommy, Tommy's lips are turning blue, he's not getting enough oxygen, he's more important...god, he's so important.

"They're coming," he keeps saying, over and over, because what other choice does he have? He's hugging Tommy's head into his neck as Tommy goes limp and he can feel himself fading fast, try as he might.

"They're coming."

He hopes, he hopes, he hopes.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Look, Don't Touch 4

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: mondayyyyyy

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

The warmth spreads through your jeans, the pungent smell permeating the air. You don't even care. You pissed yourself and that's the least of your problems. 

You're barely cognizant of the moisture spreading across your ass. You're so fucking hungry and thirsty that you're vision is starting to haze. He really is a sick fuck. Starving you out. Well, fuck him. He doesn't win because you're not losing anything.  

"You fucking stink," he snarls as he enters. You can't see him as the chair remains on it's back. 

You chuckle. He huffs and stomps around.  

"Ugh, disgusting," he sneers. 

You laugh louder. 

"Fucking rat," he comes to stand over you, arms crossed. "You just can't wait for anything. I was just making you something to eat." 

You spit at him and it hits his jeans, just above his knee. He exhales and takes out his phone. The tension in your wrists and ankles slackens. He grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you off the chair. 

He flips you so you land on your stomach. The plastic crinkles and he shoves your face against a small yellow puddle. He wipes your nose in your own waste. It's not as funny. 

He wrenches you up. Your arms and lengths are still weighed down by the cuffs, even as they are apart. He grips you by the back of your neck as your legs wobble with disuse. 

"You'll need to clean up before you eat," he tuts. 

He marches you across the room. Your muscles are like noodles, your knees buckling as you stagger. He squeezes until you grunt. 

"You should be thanking me. Vermin don't typically get these luxuries." 

You scoff and elbow him. He huffs and shoves you through the bathroom door. You flail and hit the edge of the tub, folding over it. 

He stomps in after you and hooks his arm under you. He tugs down the zipper of your hoodie and strips it off your arms. You fall to the floor, limp to his onslaught. You have to save your strength for the right time. Not that you have much. 

He steps over you and tears the collar of your tee. He makes quick work of it too. He tears your jeans down and the button pings off. He takes your boots with the heap of denim and tosses it. Your boy shorts stick to your pelvis and your sports bra twists awkwardly. 

He rips through the fabric of both without effort. You growl and he lifts you, dropping you onto the tub without care. Your elbows and ass hit. The pain radiates through you.  

He has a fistful of your hair clumped in his hand in seconds. He flips the faucet to cold and grabs the showerhead. He brings the hose down and sprays you in the face. You gasp and gulp, kicking as he aims it up your nose. 

You gag and he turns the spray onto your chest and stomach. Your skin tautens and pricks with goosebumps.  He scours you from toe to head again.  

You spasm as he pins you by your neck and floods your nose is mouth. Motherfucker is water boarding you. You hack and spit but don't beg. Fuck that. Drown me, bitch. 

He flips you over as you shiver and choke. He sprays down your back and the water suddenly turns scalding. You growl and gnash down on your tongue as your skin steams. You slap the porcelain and bite down on your stubbornness. You will not give him the fucking satisfaction.  

The temperature softens and he angles the head between your legs. You twitch as the stream tickles you. Nope. Uh uh. 

You reach back only for your hand to being drawn back by the sudden weight in the cuff. He tisks and wiggles the shower head. You hiss and press your forehead to the tub. What the fuck? 

You rocks the hose as you fight the sensation creeping into your core. This isn't going to happen. You're not going to give in.  

With all your strength, you turn yourself over and bring your knee up. You hit his shoulder and the shower head slips to pour over your pelvis. You wriggle as your ankles and wrists stay pinned like anchors. 

"Fucking perv!" You snarl. 

"You pissed all over yourself, I'm helping!" He jerks the spray back against your cunt and you exclaim. Jesus! 

"Gotta be thorough," he splays a hand on your chest as he once more works the showerhead against you. Your toes curl as the swell pulses inside you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

He hums smugly and slips his hand over one side of your chest. He kneads your tit and clucks. "Well, you're not entirely useless. Didn't think there was much under those rags." 

"You are fucking--" 

He turns the hose and sprays you in the face again. You spit and sneer. He's so goddamn annoying. 

Then, the thrumming flow is trapped along your cunt. You groan and growl, fighting back the rise as it creeps up and up and up. Your breath shallows as you approach the crest and resign yourself to the defeat. 

Clang! He twists the faucet off and drops the hose. It dangles as you lay panting, just short of your climax. Throbbing. 

He laughs as he stands and grips his hips victoriously, "ask nice and I'll finish the job." 

You heave and shudder. You suck in a deep breath and bat your wet lashes. You put on the most pathetic voice you can muster, "please, Bucky, please won't you... fucking kill me!" You thrash and shake on the porcelain. "I'd rather drink acid than cum for you, idiot!" 

He snorts, "oh I know what makes you cum and it's never going to happen." He wrenches you out of the tub, water dripping off of you. "The only reason you're still here is because I want you to see the sheer revulsion in Steve's eyes before I break your fucking neck." 

"You're a bitch," you teeter on your toes and lean in to snarl at him. "You can't fucking do it because you're still ass-fucked over all those victims you stacked up for Hydra--" 

He swings you into the wall and you wheeze as you crumple to the floor.  

"Bitch," you rasp. "Bitch boy. Fucking Hydra dog." 

"You don't know what the fuck you're messing with," he barks. 

"I saw your dick, fucker. I had it between my teeth like a cocktail weenie," you snicker. "I know what the hell you are and aren't--" 

He kicks you so your back is against the wall and plants his foot against your chest. He leans on you until your ribs burn. You stare up at him. Do it. 

He lets his foot off and sighs. 

"Steve deserves to spit in your face before you go out," he grabs you by the wrist and drags you across the tile. Your ass scrapes and your heels bounce off the floor. 

He hauls you back to the living room. He puts the chair right and perches you in the seat. Your wrists snap down on the armrests and your ankles to the legs. You're bound again. 

"Means I gotta keep you around for another day or two so... better give the mouse its cheese." 

He taps your cheek before he stalks of. You shiver as your skin cools. You fidget and try to get comfortable. Every part of you hurts. 

You listen to him fussing in the kitchen. He appears with a large bowl in hand. You can't see the content. He puts it on the table near the couch. He's gone again. 

When he comes again, he has a hose and funnel. He drags another chair over, then grabs the bowl. He sits next to you as he balances the bowl in his lap. 

"Open up for daddy," he taunts. 

You sneer as you stare at the hose. You're not fucking stupid. You know what he's up to. 

"Now don't tell me you're scared," he grabs your jaw and squeezes. 

You gasp and open your mouth. He shoves the hose through and jams it into your throat until it snakes past your gag reflex. You breath through your nose as the constant pressure makes your stomach contort. 

"Better fill you up," he takes the funnel attached to the other end and the bowl. He stands as he start to pour. 

You close your eyes as you brace yourself.  You wretch as he force feeds you the sour concoction of eggs, plain yogurt, and something acidic. Your insides contort and your muscles clench. 

Your mouth overflows and the excess dribbles out and smears around your mouth. You puff messily around the hose. He tips the bowl until its empty and the mixture floods your nose as you heave again. 

He wiggles the hose as he puts the bowl on the chair and you gurgle around it. He leaves it there as he smirks at you then slowly tugs it. The friction nearly makes you vomit. 

When the hose it out, he grabs you again. He keeps your mouth open as he shoves two fingers inside. He considers you as he teethes his lip. 

"If you weren't a biter, I might just try it," he sneers. "You gotta a hell of a throat, doll." 

He lets you go and spins away. He takes the bowl and the hose and leaves you breathless. The pasty substance is streaked across your cheeks and down your neck. It'll start to stink pretty quickly.  

📷

You're dazed as suddenly you lurch off the chair. Not for long as Bucky dangles you from one hand and stamps the other against the seat. Disoriented, you have no power to stop him. 

"One of the toys I found in your shit hole," he angles you down, one hand on your throat, the other on your hip. Your eyes snap open and you grimace. "You're quite the collector." 

He slips his hand under you and spreads your cunt as the tip of the toy prods you. You hold your breath as he forces you onto it. The dry scrape of your insides burns. He moves his other hand to your shoulder and jerks you down all at once. You snarl. 

"With how fucking desperate you are, I'm sure that's nothing," he steps back as your stomach tightens. It's your biggest toy by far and you usually do a lot of warm up. 

"I'm the desperate one," you snicker then quiet as your muscles ripple. 

"You're getting tired, doll, I can see it. I mean, you're no super soldier so you don't got a chance," he snorts. "But you can try to get some sleep. I hear white noise helps." 

He turns and picks up a pair of over-ear headphones. He winks as he steps closer and pops them on your head. You flinch as he brings out his phone and taps the screen. The blare of Mary Poppins rattles your brain. You bare your teeth in disgust. You fucking hate Julie Andrews. 

He turns and stretches his arms. You can't hear him or his footsteps. The volume makes your eyeballs hurt. 

He faces you again and laughs and taps his ears then shrugs. You narrow your eyes and bop your head. Fuck it, you can get into musicals if it shuts him up. 

He rolls his eyes and struts away. This might be the limit but you won't fold easily. You shift and your stomach aches with fullness. Typical man, can't even give you a bit of foreplay before jamming it in. 

📷

The hours fade with the sky. Bucky takes his place across the sofa, hands behind his head as he watches one of his lame PBS docs. He might not show it but he is truly an old man. 

Your ears ache from the constant roar of Disney classics. This is Guatanamo level torture. You watch him without moving. Even the slightest twitch makes your walls pulse. You can't move any sort of way to get stimulation.  

Slowly, his eyelids droop. He blacks the screen of his phone and turns his back to you. He nestles into the couch, the muscles of his naked back easing. You smile and wait. 

When you sense his breathing even out, you start. You sing along to the repetitive anthem 'SUPERCALLIFRAGILISTICEXPIADLIDOCIOUS. EVEN THOUGH THE SOUND OF IT IS SOMETHING QUITE ATROCIOUSSSSS!" 

Bucky jolts up as you continue your siren. You're not much of a singer but you're belting like Aretha. He barrels off the couch and grabs you by the throat. 

You chuckle as the force knocks the headphones down to your neck. You smirk up at him. Your eardrums vibrate as the world buzzes around you.  

"The fuck?!" 

You twist your head down and aim your teeth for his arm. He shakes you and you laugh again. It's funny when he's mad, especially when he tries so hard and you give him nothing. 

"You are a crazy bitch." 

"Look who's talking," you throw back. "There's an easy way out of this, guy. You can do it. One last time. Just a twist of the neck--" 

"Fuck off." 

"You first." You stick your tongue out. 

He brings his hand up and cracks his knuckles across your cheeks. Blood rises in your mouth as the vibranium plates leave cuts on your cheek. The headphones fall to the floor. He lets you go and curls his fingers as he paces. 

The moonlight limns him as he fumes. You spit out the back tooth he finally knocked free. It skitters over the floor. He grumbles and faces you again. 

"Fine, if we're done giving a fuck..." he stomps back you and grabs you off the chair.  The dildo slips free and you wince. He pulls you close and seethes. "Then let's do this, huh?" He spins you and pushes you against the chair. Your knees hit the edge and he bends you so your neck it against the back. "I'll give ya the real thing before I turn the lights off, how about that?" 

He jostles behind you and his briefs fall to his feet. He leans until you feel your esophagus pinching against the wood. He flicks your ass cruelly and smacks it. 

He guides his tip up your thigh and grazes your cunt. You close your eyes and whittle air through your throat. He'll be quick. He's been holding back too long. As long as the end is fast too. 

He presses against your entrance and a sudden flash illuminates the room. The door clicks and he grips your neck tighter. You angle your head as much as you can. You can see only the brown boots with the tidy laces. 

"Bucky?" Steve utters and his timbre flows through you like ecstasy. You purr. 

"Uh, hey, Steve," Bucky lets you go and you slump. You steady yourself as you stay on your knees, the dildo poking your pelvis. "You're home early." 

"Didn't need me for the last day," he sounds stunned as stands his rolling suitcase next to the mat. 

Bucky pulls up his underwear and coughs, "Steve, I need to talk to you." 

"Yeah, I think there's a lot of talking to do," he mutters. 

You lift your head slowly and look at him dreamily. You smile, shamelessly showing off your bloody teeth. He blinks at you and chagrin twists his perfect features.  

Bucky huffs and grabs you. He rips the toy off the seat and flings it. He sits you down and the chair rocks. Your arms stick to the wooden rests once more. 

"Right," he marches toward Steve, "lets talk." 

[angstandhappiness]

Gorgeous

(ID in ALT text)

some of these were conzepts i drew for @ranilla-bean fic the iconoclast. others are just me doodeling zuko in SEA inspired clothing (khemer or siam style/ so cambodia or thailand)

[swordfernsf]

Love how I’m Hermitcraft fics people use Doc to act as a medic for the other hermits. Because that man does not have a medical degree in the slightest, but we just make him the medic, purely based on the fact that his name is “doc” and that’s it.

[a-babe-without-a-name]

Sit Next To Me - Masterlist

College AU Viktor x Female!Reader - 18+

You had created two rules for yourself.

Rule One: You could do whatever you wanted. Get the degree you want, party when you want, cancel plans when you want, love who you want. Whatever you really wanted to do, you were going to do, anxiety and guilt free.

Rule Two: You could do whatever you wanted, except for have relationships with classmates. No sex, no dating. If they were on the same course roster as you, they were off limits.

Easy enough, right?

…Right?

Read on AO3

Chapter 1: To A Good Fucking Semester.

Chapter 2: Wanna See a Magic Trick?

Chapter 3: That’s Actually Very Unreasonable.

[shortbcofkoffee]

CW: Cursing, child abuse via parentification

Bruce didn’t cry. He never cried. Bruce whined and sulked, but he never cried. Tim hated it when Bruce whined and sulked. He hated when Bruce acted like a kicked puppy because he had to take care of him. Tim thinks Alfred is happy he doesn’t have to do it anymore. Bruce is well into his 40s; he shouldn’t need this. Either way, Tim is closing Bruce’s bedroom door behind him and turning to the man in bed.

“Alfred wants you to come to dinner.” Tim sits on the foot of the bed, placing a hand on Bruce’s calf. The man is facing away from him, lying down but not pretending to sleep.

“I’m fine.”

Tim sucks his teeth and furrows his brow. “What’s wrong?”

Bruce shrugs and curls into himself. 

Tim purses his lips. “C’mon, chum. You can tell me.” Tim swallows and his stomach twists. He tells himself that it feels numb on his lips. He’d says he’s long past feeling gross, disgusted with himself, as he gently runs his thumb back and forth over Bruce’s calf. Bruce needs this, he reminds himself. He needs me.

“It’s nothing, I just-... It’s nothing.”

Tim frowned, Bruce wasn’t usually one to share but still. “Is it a case?” He knew Jason had mentioned one. Something about a seemingly normal family leaving their kid with the Falcones before the parents were murdered. It wasn’t the type of thing to stress Bruce out but it was the only one Tim could think of. Bruce didn’t answer. “Okay, well, you don’t need to tell me. But let's get some food in you, yeah?”

Bruce shifted but made no attempt to get up. Tim sighed.

“Alright, chum, I’ll bring dinner to you. Just wait here.” Tim patted his leg and stood up.

“Thanks, Dad,” Bruce said as Tim reached the door.

His eye twitched. “Anytime.”

When he steps out of the dark bedroom, he’s Brother Tim, the Tim the rest of the Waynes like. He makes his way to the dining room where everyone is filing in. Luckily it wasn’t everyone tonight. Just Tim, Dick, Cass, Jason, and Damian. They all sat at the table in their unofficial spots. Tim usually sat between Bruce and Dick with Cass right across from him. He eyed his seat, thinking maybe he could ask Alfred to bring the plate. He wanted to sit down and eat. Dick raised an eyebrow as Tim passed his chair.

“You’re not gonna sit down?”

Tim shook his head. “I will in a minute, Bruce isn’t coming down so I’m bringing him food.”

Jason scoffed. “Why do you need to bring it, ask Alfred.”

God, he wanted to. “Alfred does enough, I’ll do it.”

He could feel their eyes as he quickly moved past them to the kitchen. Alfred is there, garnishing a casserole. The Butler meets his eyes and frowns.

“I assume Master Bruce has elected to stay in his room?”

Tim nods. “I’m gonna fix him a plate.”

Tim thinks Alfred knows because Alfred somehow knows everything. Maybe he doesn’t know how far it’s gone, but he knows. He also needs Tim, but not for himself like everyone else. He needs Tim for Bruce. 

Alfred hums. “Master Timothy, please come here. I want to show you something.” Tim stepped closer, watching as Alfred cut a perfect square out of his casserole. “Master Bruce has a very particular way he likes to be served. You’d do well to memorize it. All foods must be separated by one-third of an inch, vegetables should be opposite the meat. He drinks milk right after his water, if he plans to sleep right after dinner crush two valium pills and mix it well into his milk. If they’re fully dissolved he won’t notice the difference.”

Tim nodded along. God, this was so final. He already knew most of this but Alfred never took the time to actually teach him. It took the butler less than a minute to finish Bruce’s plate, he placed it on a tray with two glasses of milk and water. He handed Tim the tray and sent him on his way.

Tim felt eyes on him again as he passed back through the dining room. There’s a pang of anxiety in his chest telling him they know, they know. He doesn’t know what he’d do if they did. They’d be disgusted, disgusted with Tim for going along with this for so long. They’d think he’s a freak, that somehow he enjoys this. Tim doesn’t know how he’d handle it. 

The walk to Bruce’s room was quiet, the whole manor was quiet. Tim had mixed feelings about long, quiet halls. It meant he was alone; either for the moment or months on end. It was lonely but there was a freedom in that emptiness. He didn’t have responsibilities, he could do whatever, whenever, however. No one was watching him, he didn’t need to be anyone. Tim took a deep breath in. As long as he was in this hallway, he’d be fine. Unfortunately, he was only a few yards from Bruce’s door.

He balanced the tray in one hand and opened the door with the other.

“I’m coming in, chum.”

Bruce turned over in his bed and sat up. “What did Alfred make?”

“Hamburger casserole, broccoli, and turmeric rice. If you want dessert, though, you’ll have to come downstairs.” Tim placed the tray on Bruce’s lap. “Spend time with your kids.”

Bruce stared blankly at his food. “What’s for dessert?”

“Tiramisu, I think. Your favorite.”

Bruce nodded and started to eat. 

Tim ruffled his hair, letting Bruce lean into his touch for a moment. It’s… a lot. “Come down when you’re ready.”

Tim was two steps from the door when Bruce spoke again.

“Wait. Dad…”

Tim turned around and shifted his weight onto one leg. “What’s up, bud?”

Bruce didn’t meet his eyes and poked the food. “Recently I was made aware of… a situation.”

“Uh-huh.” Tim walked back to the bed next to Bruce.

“Jason has let me know about a development in a cold case involving the Falcones.” So he was right. “There was a child involved. I found him, he’s… traumatized. He saw them kill his parents, he told me and I just- I… He doesn’t want to leave the Falcones. He told me he loved it there, they were nice to him. And I just left him. He wouldn’t come with me, he fought so much, I left him.” 

Tim pouted. “I’m sorry that happened, bud. You think you’ll go back for him?”

Bruce leaned onto Tim’s shoulder. “Jason said he’d deal with it. I just wish I did some more. I could’ve, I can, I just. It’d be encroaching on Jason’s territory. Where they’re keeping him. I should do something. I can.”

Tim wrapped an arm around Bruce’s shoulder and scratched his scalp. It felt weird, warm. Bruce had probably washed it earlier, poorly, but at least it was washed. “Yeah, Jason has been on edge with you hasn’t he?” Bruce nodded. “It’ll be alright, bud. Jason can handle this, and besides, this case could be a lot for you. I think you should sit this one out instead of beating yourself up about it.” Tim unwrapped his arm. “Okay?”

“Alright.”

“Good. I’m gonna go eat dinner, you can come down for dessert.”

Tim finally got away, slipping off the bed and out the door. When Tim steps outside the room again and walks a few feet before leaning against the wall. He pressed his forehead against the red wallpaper and placed a hand over his stomach. He doesn’t want to touch anyone ever again. His stomach is churning with that familiar weird feeling. It’d go away soon, a few minutes to a few days, but it’d go away. This wasn’t weird. This isn’t- Bruce needs this, he needs this. As long as Bruce needed him, Tim would be there. He couldn’t just abandon Bruce. His hand gripped his shirt and he took a deep breath. He was okay. Tim stood up straight and walked back to the dining room.

He slid back into his seat next to Dick and Bruce’s empty chair. Alfred already put his plate out, just how he liked. Tim looked around the table at the subtle differences on the other’s plates. He wondered if they noticed and if this would be his life from now on, learning the specific ways he needed to care for everyone. If it’s like that he’s happy only Bruce needs him. He was prepared for a few questions, it’d be weird if he didn’t get any. Bruce’s kids would be worried about him even if they hated to admit it.

“You’ve been fussing over the old man a bit much lately,” Jason started.

“I guess,” Tim shrugged as he began to eat. Had it been more than usual lately? It felt a little less frequent. 

“Is he okay?” Dick asked.

Tim frowned. “He’s upset about a case.” He nodded at Jason. “One of yours, actually. About the kid with the Falcones. He’s eating himself up because he wants to help the kid but he doesn’t want to piss you off. I told him you could handle it.”

“Thank God,” Jason huffed. “That asshole keeps straining my alliances every time he steps foot in the alley.”

“How old is the kid? We don’t need him trying to take another kid in,” Dick joked.

That seemed to satisfy the table as they all went back to eating and their individual conversations. Mainly small talk and meaningless arguments, Tim wanted to contribute but he still felt weird. He felt awful. The food didn't settle the churning in his stomach, unfortunately, the feeling was here to stay. Begrudgingly, his thoughts wandered back to Bruce. What would he need next? When? He could feel the man’s hair on his hand still. It was warm and a little greasy from product that hadn't been washed out. Tim roughly swallowed. He didn't like this feeling. He should be grateful, if it wasn't for this he wouldn't be needed here. Of course, he was CEO of Wayne Enterprises but his professional relationships weren't fulfilling enough to replace personal ones. He needed Bruce to feel useful. Bruce needed him to feel better. It wasn’t weird. It wasn’t disgusting. Tim was okay with it.

He didn't want to finish his dinner. He didn't want to be here when Bruce came down for dessert. Oh God, he’ll probably have to put him to bed if he’s still upset after dinner. He stood with his only half-empty plate and started to the kitchen. Cass grabbed the back of his shirt and tapped him twice, asking where he was going.

“Ah, I'm done eating. Wasn’t too hungry anyway.”

Cass frowned but waved him off but Dick stopped him too. 

“Hold on, Timmy, dude, you barely ate.”

“I'm not hungry,” he reiterated. “And besides, I have a meeting with some shareholders tomorrow, I need to prepare.” A lie so quick it surprised even him. “Do you want my food?”

Before Dick could answer Damian slammed a hand on the table. “Drake! Give me your vegetables!”

Tim quickly dumped his food on Damian's plate and walked to the kitchen. Alfred was still there, preparing dessert, and to Tim’s luck, it was actually Tiramisu. So now he didn’t accidentally lie to Bruce. 

“Should I throw this out or keep the leftovers?” He asked Alfred.

The old man looked between him and the plate a few times. “You only ate one thing.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Just place it on the counter, I’ll deal with it.”

Tim muttered a thanks as he did and left. Unfortunately, always unfortunate for Tim Drake-Wayne, Bruce was there. Smiling at his kids, carrying his tray to the kitchen. Tim didn’t have to look closely at Bruce anymore. Every line crinkle was there whether he liked it or not. He could read Bruce’s face better than anyone he knew and he hated it. Bruce’s smile faltered a little when he was Tim but no one seemed to notice. It wasn’t weird , he reminded himself. He brushed past Tim with a “hey.” The interaction was short and impersonal but it didn’t make the feeling go away. Tim left the dining room. Bruce would probably go to the cave tonight, to look over whatever he’s working on. By tomorrow morning only Dick would be back in Bludhaven and Cass and Jason would be back at their apartments. Tim hoped he wouldn’t have to scold Bruce for staying up too late. 

Tim’s lungs felt light like the air was barely tickling them. He wanted to sleep, he’d set an alarm for three and if Bruce was still up he’d drag him to bed. Soon enough he was in a quiet hallway again. Just alone with no one watching. He jumped as high as possible, fingers barely touching the high ceiling. Tim liked being alone for these small bits of time when he felt like this. It gave him just a little release when he did little things with no one else around. He jumped again. He wants to go on patrol. He wants to jump from building to building and breathe in the night air. He should do it soon, tomorrow maybe.

Tim reached his room, set his alarm for three, and let himself relax into his pillow. Bruce has been better lately, this case was gonna be a huge setback, especially if it involved Jason. Tim hated to say it because it wasn’t true but every problem he had with Bruce was because of Jason. Tim knew it wasn’t fair to blame him, he had no stake in how Bruce would mourn him, but if he never died in the first place… That was so unfair. It made Tim feel disgusting for even thinking that. Bruce wasn’t entirely to blame either, no one is how they mourn. Tim took the role of caretaker quickly and easily, it was a lot, especially for a thirteen-year-old, but Tim could take it. Tim could take everything. He did and will.

Tim didn't know when he fell asleep or if he had a dream but the alarm clock on his bedside table was screaming. Tim groggily rolled over and hit it off. If Bruce wasn't in the cave Tim could go back to sleep sooner. If he was, Tim would have to drag him to bed. Bruce needed as much sleep as possible, the holidays were coming up and that always put Batman on overtime. Tim got out of bed and dragged himself over to Bruce’s room, but of course, he wasn't there. Tim groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He found his way down to the cave and followed the sound of typing to the Batcomputer. 

“It's late.” Tim came up behind Bruce.

“I'm working.”

“And you'll have time to work tomorrow. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you wake up.” He put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “C'mon let's get you to bed.” 

Bruce made no effort to move and Tim leaned on his shoulder. 

“I’ll go to bed soon.”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Listen, bud, I’m not going to sleep until you do. And I’m tired.”

“No one is asking you to do that.”

“I know you’re tired too. You’re not at your best when you’re tired, you could slip up and miss something.”

“I won’t. I slept yesterday, I’ll be fine.”

Fair, Bruce could easily stay awake for three to four days without shutting down. Unfortunately, with the aforementioned holidays, sleep would be few and far between. “Yeah, well I’m not asking. We’re going to bed.” Tim looked up at the screen. “What are you even working on?”

“I told you. The case with the Falcone kid. I haven’t updated the report yet.”

“I thought I told you to let Jason deal with it.”

“I can help.”

“He doesn’t want your help.” 

Bruce paused his typing for a moment before resuming. “Did he tell you that?”

“I told him that I told you to let him deal with it. He didn’t thank me but he was appreciative.” Tim pulled away from Bruce’s shoulder making the man twitch. “Besides, I don’t want you working this case. It won’t be good for you.”

Bruce just grunted, an unintelligible one that meant he was acknowledging but ultimately ignoring you. It’s like a toddler throwing a quiet tantrum.

“You know I’m right. C’mon, chum, let’s go to bed,” he tried again. The man didn’t answer. “Okay?” He said with more force. Bruce silently saved the report he was working on and logged off. “Thank you. See that wasn’t so hard.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Bruce grumbled. 

“Mm-hm.” Tim held out a hand and pulled Bruce from his chair.

Bruce held onto his hand as they started to walk, he seemed like he needed it. He didn’t let go until they were halfway to his room. Bruce, for someone who craved it so much, hated physical affection. He only accepted it from certain people. Alfred was one since he raised him practically by himself. His kids, obviously, he’d never turn down a hug from one of them, he actually hoped for it. Though Tim had never personally seen it, according to others Bruce didn’t seem to mind being touched by Clark Kent. Lastly, there was Tim. Tim was the only person Bruce reached out to first for affection. Usually just a hand on his shoulder or arm but sometimes Bruce wanted a hug or a hand to hold. It was always over quicker than it happened when Bruce acted first. 

Once he got Bruce to his room it was 3:14. He could still get a good amount of sleep and still be good in the morning. He yawned as he walked the dark halls back to his room. Sleep would be good, Bruce was exhausting. TIm just wanted to melt into his pillow and disappear forever. Tim jumped, almost yelped as he turned a corner and came face to face with a mop of white and black hair. Jason stared at him quietlywith his jaw locked in anger. Neither of them spoke but Jason nodded in the direction of the library. Jason was here, why was he here? Tim hadn’t noticed him come in so it must’ve been when he was dealing with Bruce. 

Oh, God, had he seen him with Bruce? The seeing wasn’t the hard part Tim knew how to lie and deflect. He could say that he asked Bruce to hold hands. It wouldn’t explain why it looked like he was guiding Bruce but it was a start. The hearing was the bad part. If Jason had heard the end of their conversation Tim doesn’t know. An inside joke maybe? That was the only thing Tim could think of at the moment. He bit his lip nervously. The disgusting feeling was back. His hands and feet felt heavy. Tim was tired, he just wanted to sleep.

“Why are you here?” He asked nervously.

“Left my commlink in the cave. Came back to get it,” Jason said.

“Ah.”

So he was in the cave. When they entered the library Jason sat down in one of the lounge chairs and motioned for Tim to sit across from him.

“The fuck was that?” Jason started.

“What was what?”

Jason leaned forward and sighed. “Okay. Are you… okay?” He asked through gritted teeth.

The question felt weird coming from Jason. “Fine. Why?”

“I heard you talking to Bruce.”

Tim is pretty sure all the color left in his face drains. He’s pretty sure Jason noticed it too. “Oh.”

“So are you okay?”

Tim pinched his fingertip with the opposite hand. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just- just forget what you heard, okay? It’s nothing weird, just an inside joke, y’know?” Tim feels a little stupid for deflecting immediately. He could’ve played it off better, but the mental exhaustion was getting to him.

“It didn’t sound like a joke.”

Tim pinched harder, sinking his nails into his skin. “Then you misread the situation.”

Jason leaned back, splaying his arms over the back of the chair. “Alright humor me. What’s the joke then.”

“If I explained it it wouldn’t be very “inside” anymore. It’s private.”

“Kay, so how long have you and him had this private “joke.””

Tim grimaced. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not. Just answer.”

Tim scoffed. “Why do you care? It’s a joke me and Bruce have, that’s it.”

“Why do I-?! Why do I care?! You know I kill abusers?”

Tim took a deep breath in and rolled his eyes. “Don’t call it abuse just because you think it’s weird. I get it, you don’t buy the joke thing but that’s all it is.”

Jason was quiet for a moment before his eyes widened. “Oh my God, is that why he listens to you? Because you have this dad thing going on?”

Tim’s stomach churned. God, he wanted to throw up. He wanted to run away and hide under his cover until this was all over. “Nothing’s going on, leave it alone.”

“Listen, I’m trying to help you.”

Jason? Help Tim? When he was the reason for this in the first place? Tim couldn’t help but smile at the irony. “Yeah right. I don’t need any help, it’s fine. If it makes you feel better, I started it, not Bruce.”

“So, what, you started calling Bruce “ chum” and shit.” Tim almost gagged. “And he just went along with it?”

“It’s complicated, okay? Bruce needs someone to deal with him.”

“Why not Alfred? That’s literally his job.”

“It’s different-”

“Is it? Alfred’s practically raised him and I don’t see Bruce calling him dad.”

“It’s different,” Tim repeated. “You weren’t there, you don’t know.”

“Okay then explain it. I’ve got all night.”

Tim clenched his jaw and glared at Jason. “I’m going to bed.” He started to stand but a throwing knife stuck into the bookshelf behind him, barely missing his head.

“Sit. Explain.”

Tim sat back down. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“When did this start?”

“Four or five years ago.”

Jason hummed. “That’s what you meant by I wasn’t there. Alright then, why is he calling you dad?”

That one was loaded. Tim wasn’t a psychic, he couldn’t read Bruce’s mind. He only had his best guess. “He likes to be parented. Talking to him like he’s a teenager sometimes helps when you need him to do something. Like shower or eat.”

“So… you act like his dad because he’s an overgrown teenager.”

“No. He only acts like that when he’s depressed, or stressed, or wasted.”

“Bruce doesn’t drink.”

“Not when you guys are around. He used to drink himself stupid after you died. That’s also why it’s me and not Alfred. Alfred was grieving too, Bruce wasn’t something he needed to deal with.” 

“So you took Alfred’s place.”

“Only when he needed it.”

“But it never stopped. You’re still doing this weird shit just to make him feel better.”

“He still needs me. I can’t abandon him.” Tim shifted uncomfortably.

“Tim, you’re 17, Bruce isn’t your responsibility.”

“He is. I need to take care of him. You don’t understand, you don’t get how bad he needs me.”

“You’re right, I don’t. He’s grown, he doesn’t need you.”

“Well he does, okay? And I’ll do it until he stops needing me.”

“Do you think of him as your son?”

Tim was silent. He didn’t like to, it made him feel gross to say it so he’d never actually verbalized it before. “It… can make it easier.”

Jason shook his head. “I don’t get you. Both of you know how fucked up this is, you kept it a secret this whole time. You’re clearly feeling shitty about it, you just never said anything. He’s not threatening you, is he?”

“He’s not threatening me, I just… He needs me. That’s all there is to it.” Tim was tired. He wanted to go to bed. “We didn’t tell anyone because we knew you would react like this. You’d think it was weird.”

“It is.”

“You’re not even making an effort to understand. You don’t get it.”

“Oh, believe me, I get it. I get all there is to get. Tim, I’m sure you know this, but I don’t like you. I think you’re a stain and you never should’ve been Robin. But I’m on your side, I’m trying to help you . Because I’m supposed to protect people like you.”

“I’m not a victim, Red Hood, I’m telling you, I’m just taking care of him.”

“You don’t need to.”

“We’re talking in circles. It’s fine if you don’t get it, just don’t tell anyone and keep it alone. Me and Bruce are fine, this has worked for years. If I left Bruce wouldn’t be able to pick himself up again. I can take care of him as long as he needs me.”

“Do you want to?”

Tim rubbed his arm. He didn’t, he liked feeling needed but he didn’t want to do this. But that’s how it was, it was how Bruce needed him. Since he couldn’t, he wouldn’t change a thing. “Yeah.” He felt disgusting.

Jason raised his hands in surrender. “Then I’ll leave it alone. But if I find out something I don’t like, I’ll act. Trust me, I will.”

Tim finally pushed himself out of the chair. “Thank you. I’m going to bed, it’s late.”

Jason stayed behind in the library leaving Tim alone in the long dark hallway. He was alone again, he exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding before his chest sank again. Oh God, someone knew. Jason knew, probably the last person Tim wanted to know. Jason had called Bruce an abuser and threatened to kill him. That’s the last thing Tim needed. He wanted to sleep, he should sleep.

.

Read the rest here and read the fic that inspired it here

[writersblockiskillingme]

I NEED GI HUN X F! READER PLEASEEEEEE

There’s barely anything for him:((

It can be literally anything but rn I’m craving comfort so maybe Gi Hun comforts his girl when she starts crying and she can’t really explain what’s wrong

Comfort | Seong Gi-hun x reader

Pairing: Seong Gi-hun x fem!reader

Summary: You knew that hunting down the salesman was going to be difficult, but after everything that you've been through in the games alongside Gi-hun, sometimes everything feels like it's going to suffocate you. Luckily, he's always there for you.

Warning/s: angst, hurt/comfort, a little fluff, short fic, just two traumatized people trying to heal each other, PTSP (talking about the games), death, tears, sadness, depressed atmosphere, cigarette addiction, cursing (?), mourning, guns, hunting down the salesman, possible grammar and spelling mistakes

Author's note: So I finally got out of the writer's block, and I found some spare time, so I finally sat down to write. I gave it my best shot. I hope you like it! More to come.

Being his friend was easy. Being in love with him was even easier.

Once the games came around, everything became more complicated. I simply never thought that something like this was going to happen. Working in a job position that I did never brought me much money. Sure, it was enough to bring some food on my table and to cover the bills, but it wasn't anything big. However, once I found myself drowning in debt, I found myself in a horrific situation with no way out.

The money that I earned was not enough for respectable food, I couldn't pay my landlord for a few months, and I was a few weeks away from being kicked out on the streets. Not to mention the debt for which it seemed like I never paid enough to get out of. I thought moving back to Korea would somehow help me at least to escape the loan sharks and pay for necessary things, but I couldn't imagine how wrong I would be.

That's when I met him. The Salesman. Playing the ddakji with him for some money earned me some food for that night, but it also gave me an opportunity of a lifetime. It was an opportunity that I now know I would have never taken if I had known what was waiting for me out there once I called the number at the back of the card that he gave me.

Before the first game, I saw him. My old childhood friend Seong Gi-hun. Up until I saw him, I came to a realization about just how much I missed him.

Truth to be told, I have always felt something more than friendship for him ever since I was I kid. At first, I brushed it off, but when I entered my teenage years, I realized that I really loved him.

I had to move away when I was twenty years old. I haven't seen him ever since. I only heard a few snippets about his life during the years I spent away from Korea. I heard that he had a, now ex, wife, and a daughter.

It was his mother who called me. She used to watch over me sometimes when we were kids, and since I was her son's best friend back then, we kept in touch over the years. It was nice, to be honest. Up until the day that she called me for a regular check-up. I had just gotten off of work after a really bad day. I had just sat down by the kitchen counter when I heard my phone ringing. The entire time I was on a call with her, she sounded strange. Kind of nervous, maybe even a bit disappointed. After a while I couldn't take it anymore and when I asked her what was wrong she told me the joyful news.

"Gi-hun is getting married."

I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was suffocating. I somehow forced myself to finish the phone call, trying to sound as happy as I could, considering that the love of my life was marrying another. A few years later, he got a daughter, and I soon heard about the divorce. I tried calling him multiple times to check on him. He never answered.

We reconnected during the games. During the bloodshed. During the pain. During the tears. During the final game, where it was down to Sangwoo, him and I. After Sangwoo died, I knew I couldn't kill him. He couldn't either. After the stunt that we pulled, we survived. We were about to kill ourselves, we truly were, but then at the last second, just as the knife had scraped the surface of my neck, they announced two winners.

After that, I realized that I couldn't live without him. I didn't have a family, didn't have any friends. His mother died, and his daughter moved with her mother and stepfather to America he lost his family, too. We were everything to each other. We still are.

As the months, years, passed, we set ourselves on a mission of finding the salesman.

At first, we didn't touch the money covered with the invisible blood. We couldn't bring ourselves to do so, but when we realized that we may have a shot at taking down the games, we used the money only for that sole purpose.

The first thing we did was to pay off our debts. Then together we bought the love hotel called "Pink Motel" in Seoul. The sign outside was always tured off. We decided to buy it so we could live there and now we also use it as headquarters while tracking down the salesman. Which was always.

That was currently our only purpose in life right now.

After we figured out our plan, we started to work with the loan sharks that were chasing us because of our debts. We paid them to find the salesman, and they were searching relentlessly.

Our mental health hasn't been all that great either.

Both Gi-hun and I have developed a cigarette addiction. Sometimes all we did was breath in the intoxicating smoke instead of air. In a strange way it helped me breath. I wasn't so nervous anymore. My hands shook less.

Gi-hun has nightmares. Every single night. I have them, too, but not that frequently. He had a gun next to his nightstand. I had mine under the pillow. It brought a sense of comfort that was always short-lived.

The nightmares kept us up all night, and because of them, we couldn't find any rest even during the daytime. It was always the people we lost on that cured island. Sangwoo... Sae-byeok... Ali... The images of our friends dead never left my brain. And neither did Gi-hun's. Other times, we dreamt that we're still playing the games. Us dying. Each other dying. The Frotman. The salesman.

It was too much.

I was just monitoring the room where our most trusted men were practicing. I didn't realize when it had happened, but I fell asleep. I guess all those sleeping pills that Boss Kim gave to Gi-hun and me finally caught up to me.

I felt trapped. Gi-hun... he was dying in front of me during the squid game. I couldn't do anything about it. I held him, covered in his blood, crying, screaming, curing at the sky for the misfortune we had to live. Cursing the makers of the game. Cursing the Frontman. Cursing the pink guards that just stood there and did nothing. Cursing the world.

Hands.

They were shaking my shoulders.

My name.

It was uttered from the lips of the man that I would die for.

My eyes snapped open, meeting Gi-hun's worried ones. Once he realized that I was awake, his face visibly relaxed, relief washing over him as I heard him let out a sigh, his head and shoulders hung downwards.

"A nightmare again?" He asked me as he brought his hand up to my cheeks, whipping away the tears that I didn't know fell, but also wasn't surprised that they did.

"I-I can't-" I sobbed, unable to form a sentence as he quickly brought me in his arms, drowning me in his chest.

"Shhh..." He whispered as he ran his hand down my hair as I cried against his neck, drowning his black shirt with my tears, "I'm here. You're okay."

"Yo-You w-were-" I stuttered, tears streaming down my cheeks, "You were dying, and I-I couldn't s-save y-you."

For a moment, there was just quiet in the room. Neither spoke. The only thing breaking the silence of our bedroom were my cries.

"Do you know why I never answered your phone calls after you found out about the divorce?" He asked me, his voice low, but soft with comfort. His sudden question about that topic surprising me a bit, "Do you know why my mother told you about it instead of me? The wedding, the divorce?"

"No."

"It was because I didn't want to face the fact that I was the cause of your misery." He whispered, still softly running his hand through my hair, my cries slowly dying down as I listened to him speak.

"I have always loved you and I knew that I hurt you with my decision even though I never wanted that to happen. I just tried to forget about you, I never knew that I could actually be with you." He sighed, "I thought that it would be the best for you. I didn't deserve you, I'm not even sure I still do." He chuckled softly.

"But even though I may not deserve you, I will never stop fighting for you and your happiness. You are my everything, and I would be damned if I ever let you feel any sort of pain." He lifted my chin with his hand as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against mine, our lips almost meeting each other's, "We will find him and end this, but for now, how about I make you some tea and we get you to bed huh, my love? What do you say?"

-

-

-

@shadow-tumbler

[angstandhappiness]

Cute

it was an absolute JOY to illustrate this stolitz wedding kiss for TrebleRose89's fic What Happens In Vegas as part of the Helluva Bang event!

please give it a read to see how the rest of this perfectly imperfect wedding goes, you won't regret it!

and shout out to Berriedtreasur3 for designing the majority of the human disguises for this!

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XLIX)

Chapter 49 : ‘I am the blossom pressed in a book, found again after two hundred years’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! We’ve got a wedding to prepare!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3215

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Briefly it enters, and briefly speaks

I am the blossom pressed in a book, found again after two hundred years. . . .

I am the maker, the lover, and the keeper....

When the young girl who starves sits down to a table she will sit beside me. . . .

I am food on the prisoner's plate. . . .

I am water rushing to the wellhead, filling the pitcher until it spills. . . .

I am the patient gardener of the dry and weedy garden. . . .

I am the stone step, the latch, and the working hinge. . . .

I am the heart contracted by joy. . . . the longest hair, white before the rest. . . .

I am there in the basket of fruit presented to the widow. . . .

I am the musk rose opening unattended, the fern on the boggy summit. . . .

I am the one whose love overcomes you, already with you when you think to call my name. . . .

Jane Kenyon

“I like the lemon one better.”

“Have you tried the chocolate and strawberry one yet?”

“I don’t think so… which one is it?”

“This one.”

“No…”

“Try it.”

You gathered a bit of cake on your small fork, and fed Andrew the mouthful.

Slowly, he nodded.

“Yeah… that one,” he kept on nodding, picking up a bigger bite with his own fork. “That’s the one.”

“I think so too.”

“God, that’s delicious,” he moaned and took a third piece.

“I think it’s among the most expensive ones though…”

“Honey, we’re getting married, we can choose whatever cake we want, no matter how much it costs.”

Getting married. Your heart still skipped beats every time you were reminded that you and Andrew were engaged.

You glanced at the engagement ring shining around your finger. You couldn’t believe it. It had been almost two months since Andrew had proposed, but you couldn’t believe it. You were engaged. You would soon marry him…

You were planning already. After announcing your engagement to your families and friends, you had settled on a date for the wedding. You didn’t want to wait for too long. It would happen in September, barely two months from now…

Two months…

You were planning things now, using the quiet of summer in the academic world to get everything ready for your big day. You thought back of Frank for a moment, of how he had pushed back the engagement, and then the wedding… how Andrew had started talking about dates days after proposing, how he had confessed that he didn’t want to spend too long being merely engaged to you, that he wanted to be married to you now…

“Hun?”

“Hmm?” you looked up at him again, tearing yourself from your thoughts.

“Do we have a winner?” he asked with a silly smile. “Shall we crown this guy the king of desserts?”

You laughed at his stupid jokes.

“Sure! Crown him king!”

Andrew grabbed a random piece of paper, folded it in what vaguely looked like a crown (or a triangle…) and put it down in front the plate, before cutting what was left of the cake in two. He fed you one of the pieces, and devoured the second.

“It’s divine,” he moaned again, letting himself fall back into your comfortable sofa.

You looked at the plates scattered on your coffee table. You had been sent a selection of seven flavours to choose from by the caterer you had hired for your wedding. They were specialised in weddings, and covered everything dealing with food and drinks. Seamus and Maggie had recommended them to you, and you had blindly trusted your friends.

Given the quality of the cakes, you were not regretting your decision.

Andrew heaved a sigh, made you turn to him. He patted his stomach, pinched the tiny bulge under his shirt there.

“I’ve eaten too much cake” he blurted out, making you laugh.

He was laughing too when he looked up at you again.

“Me too,” you giggled, resting your hand on his stomach as well.

You didn’t really notice that your caresses rose to his chest, until it made him chuckle

“Are you groping me?” he accused while wiggling his eyebrows, making you both roll your eyes and laugh.

“It’s not my fault… your boobs look amazing.”

You both laughed at your blunt compliment. He looked at you with a silly, goofy smile on his lips.

“I knew you were marrying me for my looks only.”

“Obviously. I’m shallow like that.”

You weren’t sure when Andrew’s hands had found your waist, when he had gently pulled you towards him until you were straddling him, but you were now, your face millimetres from his.

“I’m only dating you for your boobs and your hair.”

He laughed, bright and loud and carefree.

“Can I be your sugar baby then? Quit my job and just be your pretty husband?”

“I’m afraid that delicious chocolate cake is over my budget then…”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I should have gone for someone richer.”

You mumbled something about him being silly against his lips, right before kissing him and lazily wrapping your arms around his neck.

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathed in deeply his earthy scent, felt your entire body relax when he pulled you even closer, pressing your chest to his. You kept on hugging him, wrapped around him like a koala, while your thoughts drifted…

You would soon get married. Andrew wanted to spend his entire life with you. He loved you enough to sign up for life. Somehow, you were what he wanted. When and how did you get so lucky?

“My love?”

“Hmmm?”

“Look at me…”

You complied, without a second thought, lifted your head so you could stare at his eyes. Beautiful hazel. They looked more brownish today, the light was rather dim in your living room because of the clouds.

Andrew stared at you for a moment, you silently questioned him, a shy smile on your lips. He merely smiled.

“You’re beautiful,” was all he said before kissing your cheek, your jaw, your neck… You barely registered that one of your hands moved to his hair, tugging at the soft strands, while the other brushed oved his shoulder, his chest, to settle on his pec.

He chuckled into your skin.

“You really do love my boobs.”

You both exploded with laughter, tenderness sipping through the tension that had electrified the room.

“Of course, I do! I love all your body.”

“I’m not letting you lick my toes, weirdo…”

“Shut up!” you complained, losing yourself in a fit of giggles.

Your heart was growing warm at the intimacy of it all, though. How easy it was to laugh and be silly with Andrew, even though both of you were clearly turned on, even though you both knew where this was heading… you were safe and comfortable enough with him to mingle happiness and pleasure.

“I think we should… compensate all the calories we’ve eaten,” Andrew spoke again, his voice suave rather than playful now, making chills run up your spine.

“Yeah?”

“Hmm… some cardio sounds good.”

“Any idea of what exercise we should do for that?” you kept on playing along.

His hands slipped under your shirt, summoned goosebumps in the wake of their soft caress.

“I have a few ideas.”

“I think I’m still hungry though… but not for cake,” you answered, and you caught how his breathing staggered, how his eyes darkened.

He enthusiastically nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Bed?”

“Bed.”

You didn’t expect him to simply stand up and pick you up, but he did. Your surprised giggle was shushed by his lips on yours, and you reckoned that you would clean up the mess in your living room much, much later…

The closer the wedding, the more the reality of the situation seemed to sink into your bones.

Of course, you were aware that you were engaged to Andrew. Of course, you knew that he would soon be your husband. But the information seemed surreal, too much so to properly sink in. You didn’t want to admit the main reason behind this hesitation though, why you could scarcely believe it…

You looked at yourself in the mirror then, and you couldn’t believe this was real. That the image reflected in the mirror was truly you in a wedding dress.

It was perfect. Delicate, soft, it made you feel so beautiful…

“Oh, Y/N…”

Behind you, Siobhán was crying, Raine and Katie too.

“You’re so beautiful, love,” Raine nodded, drying her eyes with a tissue.

“I think that’s the one,” you grinned, tears shining in your eyes as well.

“Yeah, definitely the one,” your best friend nodded.

“You’re gorgeous,” Katie nodded.

“You think Andy will like it?”

“His jaw is gonna drop to the floor,” Katie laughed.

“Besides, who cares what he thinks, it’s your dress!” Siobhán admonished, making you all laugh.

You ran your fingers along the lace that complimented your cleavage. You looked at how the fabric followed your curves perfectly, made you glow with joy. Yeah… yeah, Andy would love it…

You turned towards the tailor, she was smiling fondly at you.

“I think I’ll choose this one.”

“It suits you perfectly,” she nodded.

“Thank you.”

“You can take as long as you need, I’ll prepare the papers while you get ready.”

“Thank you.”

You admired your dress a little longer.

This was it… you were getting married to the love of your life… it was real…

You barely noticed Raine getting closer, but when you finally did and turned to her, she held you in a tight hug. You heard the tears in her choked voice.

“I’m so happy for the two of you, love,” she spoke softly. “I’m so happy you found each other. I know you’ll take good care of Andy, and he’ll take care of you too.”

She pulled away just enough to look at you, brushed your tears away.

“I’m so glad you’re our daughter now,” Raine grinned, filling your heart with warmth and your eyes with brand-new tears. “I couldn’t be happier.”

“Thank you so much, Rainey…”

“If you need anything at all, John and I will always be here for you and Andy. You know that, right?”

You nodded, too touched by her promise to be able to summon words.

“God, Andy is not going to believe his eyes when he sees you!” she laughed, and you joined her. “You look so beautiful!”

“Thanks, Rainey…”

You hugged again, both of you a mixture of laughter and tears.

Andrew looked at himself in the mirror, and he couldn’t quite believe this was real. Was he truly trying on some suits for his own wedding? With you?

“Alex, move out of the way, for God’s sake…” John complained, playfully pushing Alex to the side so he could look at his son properly.

Andrew took a step back as well, so his father wouldn’t have to move his wheelchair and still be able to see him.

“What do you think of this one?”

“It’s better,” Jon nodded. “The other one wasn’t tight enough at the waist.”

“Yeah, it looked almost oversized,” Alex nodded.

Seamus walked around him, reached to readjust the vest around Andrew’s shoulders.

“You look good in this one,” he nodded.

“Do I?” Andrew asked, fidgeting.

But Seamus merely nudged him, not letting his friend spiral into self-doubt.

“You look great! This suits you.”

“Yeah?”

Indeed, this suit was perfect for him, and Andrew knew it. The more he looked in the mirror, the more he was convinced that this was the perfect suit.

He tried to be discreet as he brushed a tear away, but everyone noticed. Alex patted his back while he cleared his throat.

“She’s a lucky girl,” Alex nodded. “And you’re a lucky lad.”

“Yeah, sure am,” Andrew started to grin, thinking of you in a white dress.

He was almost there. Soon you would be married, and he would spend his life with you and…

Andrew turned around as he heard someone sniffing, and a fond smile broke his lips when he saw both his brother and his father brushing their eyes.

“Shut up! Don’t say anything, you eejit!” Jon warned his younger brother.

“Hmm… something in your eye, huh?”

“Exactly!”

But their father merely laughed, called for his youngest child to come closer with a gesture of the hand.

“I’m so happy for you, Andy,” he spoke in a quiet voice, holding his son’s hands. “Your mom and I… we’re so proud. And of course, you don’t need our blessing to get married, but… you have it. Y/N is perfect for you. And no matter what… your mom and I will always help you, no matter what…”

He was shushed by Andrew when he bent down to hug his father close.

“Thank you, dad…”

Seeing you wearing his clothes was Andrew’s favourite thing in the world.

Although, now that he came to think of it, he loved kissing you an awful lot too.

And having sex with you.

And talking with you.

Well, let’s say that it was one of his favourite things…

He took in the sight of you like this, cooking lunch while wearing nothing but one of his shirts. It was so big on you, though, it was almost a dress at this point. God, you were divine… his heart was pounding as he stared shamelessly at the length of your legs.

Elwood was sitting by your side, hoping to get a treat, but he barked when he noticed Andrew walking in. You greeted him with a grin, one so bright it was blinding.

When and how did he get so lucky?

“How are the bees, baby?” you asked in a hum.

“Fine. They’re fine,” he nodded, his voice quiet as he walked over to you. “They’re busy bees.”

You chuckled at the joke, while he kissed your shoulder through his shirt.

“What are you making?” he asked, brushing some sweat off his brow.

August was unbelievably warm this year, and spending an hour in full beekeeper’s gear wasn’t a good plan in this weather. That was probably why you were wearing nothing but his shirt, you were probably too warm…

“Want to go to the beach this afternoon?” he offered. “Cool down in the ocean?”

“Hmm… sounds nice. It’s so fucking hot here.”

“That’s because you’re in the room, honey.”

You laughed at his ridiculous pick-up line, nudged him with your hip playfully.

“I’m only half-joking,” he argued. “You’re so hot in my clothes.”

“Hmm… am I, now?”

“Can we…?”

“I’m cooking, baby!”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.

“Fine…”

It made you laugh, and it was like the whole world was brighter for a moment, like everything would be fine…

“I’ve called the photographer for the wedding, by the way,” you changed the subject, excitement audible in your voice. “Everything is ready!”

“Amazing!”

“She seems so talented, I’m so happy we could book her!”

“So what do we have left to plan?”

“Well… we’ve finished placing guests for the ceremony and for the reception, we have the menu, your suit, my dress… Is Alex still playing?”

“Of course. The band is ready.”

“I’m so glad they’ll play for our first dance.”

“Me too.”

“And I thought… maybe you could sing…”

“It’s my wedding! I’m not working!”

“But just one song… Please…”

You pouted, gave him your cutest puppy eyes, and Andrew couldn’t resist, he simply… couldn’t…

He rolled his eyes.

“One song. I’m doing one song. You choose one song, honey.”

“YES!” you jumped up and down in your excitement, making him laugh.

You gave him a series of pecks on the lips as a thank you, but seeing you so excited to hear him sing… it made his heart melt…

He tried to hide how emotional it made him, but you saw right through him, turned to hug him tight.

“So… everything is ready then?” he asked.

“Well, the wedding is in a few weeks now… so it should be. We just have to finish up planning the decoration for the ceremony.”

Andrew grinned at the thought. The ceremony would take place on the lands of some of his parents’ friends. They were happy to host the event. For the rest of the day, you rented some sort of mansion nearby that hosted this kind of events almost daily. There was a park, where tents would be set up for partying and eating, and if the weather allowed you would spend some nice time outside.

But you would say I do in the clearing where you had spent your first date, where Andrew had proposed… it was perfect…

“Love, I was thinking… would you like to do a ‘first glance’ kind of thing?”

“A what?”

“I don’t know if that’s what you call it. But like… us seeing each other first right before the ceremony.”

He gave you some time to think.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” you admitted. “You’d like to do that?”

“Yeah… Like… I don’t know, I just… I like the idea of seeing you and… being able to have a moment together before the ceremony. Like… without any type of audience. I just…”

He cleared his throat.

“I’m worried about being… a little overwhelmed,” he admitted.

“Oh…”

Slowly, you pulled away, turned to your vegetables again.

“Okay,” you nodded, but you seemed nervous, almost sad all of a sudden.

“We don’t have to do it, it was just an idea,” he offered, but you shook your head.

“I… I understand if you need a moment to take the decision before marrying me, it’s okay.”

He frowned hard.

“What?”

You blinked up at him.

“Isn’t that what you’re asking? To have a moment to think?”

“No, I’m…”

A rush of insecurity came flooding his heart but he didn’t let it drown him. He had stopped overthinking everything.

You loved him. You loved him, and he knew it, if there was one thing in this fucked-up world he believed in, it was your love for each other.

He took a deep-breath, and calmed down, reaching for your hand.

“Honey, I don’t need to think, I want to marry you, that’s not the point. I’m just…”

He heaved a sigh, forcing himself to talk about his feelings, to be open to you about this.

“I’m just… You’re going to be in your wedding dress, and I… I know I’m going to be overwhelmed and cry when I see you. And I… I want to have this moment just for us. Seeing you in your dress, and… I want to be able to kiss you and hold you, and cry as much as I want because… I just know I’m going to be such a sap,” he joked.

Your expression changed for one of relief, and you nodded. He reached up to cup your cheek in his large palm.

“I love you more than anything in this world,” Andrew went on. “I don’t need to think, I’m not… hesitating or anything. I want to marry you. I’m just… I’m just going to cry and I don’t want to have to hide this because there’s an audience. I don’t know if that makes sense but… I want this moment to be just ours. But it’s okay if you don’t think that’s a good idea, if you want to see me for the first time that day during the ceremony…”

“No… no… that’s a good idea,” you nodded. “I like that… discovering you in your suit when we’re alone. I like that. We can do that, if you want to. And God… I’m going to cry so much too.”

You both laughed, and you let yourself fall against his chest for another embrace.

“I can’t wait to be your wife,” you admitted in a whisper.

“And I can’t wait to be your husband.”

He held tightly onto his shirt you wore, kissing your hair, feeling your lips rest against his heart.

“I’ve interrupted your cooking,” Andrew pointed out.

“That’s okay.”

“So… can I interrupt it a little longer so I can take this shirt off you and then…”

“No!”

You both laughed, your embrace unwavering.

And Andrew couldn’t wait to marry you.