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navybrat817 · 3 hours ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 28

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 27 | Series Masterlist | Part 29

Chapter Word Count: Almost 3.3k

Chapter Summary: You try to process the fallout after meeting with your parents, and you wish to take back some control of your life.

Chapter Warnings: Arguing, bonding of sorts, inner turmoil, world building, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight, and thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You didn’t argue when Bucky helped you into the car. Your mind kept replaying what had just happened. Bucky defended you in the way he thought best, but he cut your parents off. He did that, not you, and it was starting to sink in just how serious that was.

The ache in your chest only grew. Your parents had carved a part of your heart out and you feared it may never heal correctly. Bucky may not have been the carver, but it felt like he put the tool in their hands. Was that fair? Was it right to think that way?

Your mind and heart felt like a battlefield, your thoughts and emotions at odds, clashing and each trying to come out on top. Destruction laid in the wake frequently when Bucky was involved, but he found a way to build something new out of it. What would he build out of the damage this time? What would rise from the ashes because you were tired of being the one set on fire. You just wanted to bloom gently, quietly.

“I’m so sorry we didn’t get a chance to eat,” Bucky said remorsefully, his arm tight around you, tethering to him like always. “We’ll stop anywhere you want. We can-”

“Why did you do that?” you asked in a small voice, staring straight ahead into nothingness.

“Why did I do what?” he asked, as if he was blissfully unaware of the fire he set ablaze with his actions.

You looked at him, but no tears came to your eyes. Hadn’t you cried enough? “You cut my parents off. Why did you do that?”

He didn’t say anything at first. He watched you like he was trying to figure out his next move. The man was always two steps ahead. “I did that for you,” he whispered, keeping his gaze on you when you attempted to look away. “Your parents may have created you, but they didn’t give you the love, support, or anything else you deserved. Why should they be a part of your life when they beat you down instead of building you up?”

Bucky’s words felt heavy, bitter, and truthful. He believed he did the right thing by doing what he did. He was protecting you in the only way he knew how- by taking control and doing things his way. This wasn’t his battle. It wasn’t up to him to deliver the killing blow.

“Because they are still my parents.” Your voice began to raise with your rising anger and his face dropped. “It should have been my choice!”

“I… I don’t understand.” He seemed at a loss, so unlike him. “You thanked me for defending you.”

“Because I do appreciate that you defended me. You said… all the right things,” you said, your voice still too loud in the small space. “But you still took the choice away from me. You’re still controlling the narrative of my life!”

Cutting off anyone whether it was family or friends was a deeply personal and difficult decision. It could take people months or even years to make that decision. It was heartbreaking when it occurred even when it was for the best. The feeling manifested into living grief and you could feel it with each breath. The worst part was that you didn’t get to prepare yourself for it because Bucky suggested lunch and he cut the cord.

Bucky sighed, but not out of annoyance or anger. “You’re my heart, my very reason for living, and I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said sadly.

“You want to do the right thing?! ASK ME! That’s what partners do!” You shoved at his chest, trying to put distance between you, but he didn’t budge, ever the unmoveable wall. Of course he wanted your wrath, your fire. Maybe he could burn the way you were burning. “I swear, the moment I think you’re taking a step forward, you take two steps back. You-”

His mouth was on yours, not harsh or persistent. You felt the struggle for him to not push further, knowing he wanted you to want him and take the lead. It was a standstill, daring you to move one way or the other. You didn’t deepen the kiss, but you didn’t pull away either. You just let it be.

Bucky was the one to pull away, his eyes softer than you expected. “You’re so strong, Kotyonok, and I’m holding you so tightly. I’m making you depend on me when I should be letting you stand on your own,” he breathed, the words warm against your skin and coming from the very depth of his soul. “I’ve seen you break and put yourself back together. I selfishly want to be the glue keeping the pieces in place the same way you keep me intact.”

There was a hint of a smile on his face while your lower lip trembled. Why did hearing that hurt so much? “I’m tired of breaking,” you whispered. You had broken more in less than a month than some would in their entire lives. There was being resilient in the pain, but this was overkill and you had paid more than enough dues.

“Then we’ll learn how to lean on each other the right way,” he said, dragging his lips along your face. Was it that easy? “Teach me how to be the right man for you.”

You pulled back in shock. This was a man who thrived on his world being crafted to his specifications. Did he really want you to have that level of control or was he telling you what you wanted to hear? “Well, being the right man, you wouldn’t have moved me in so soon, so we can’t exactly go back and undo that.”

He chuckled, warm and low. “No, we can’t, but we can go forward.”

“Forward,” you whispered. It was the only way to go.

He brought his mouth to your ear. “And I’m sorry about your parents, but maybe now they’ll think about what they’ve done.”

You had no doubt Bucky’s vitriol would be on their minds and maybe they’d feel guilt, but you didn’t know what that meant for your future with them. And would Bucky think of his own actions? Only time would tell.

You didn't say anything else for the rest of the ride, even when Bucky stopped to get some food. You went straight to the library with your meal once you got back to the penthouse. Bucky couldn’t hide the hurt on his face that you chose not to eat with him, but you needed space after what went down at lunch and you urged him to make some calls or do some work to distract him. It may have felt like a punishment in his eyes, but that wasn’t the case. It was a respectable boundary after something upset you.

“These brownies really are delicious,” Curtis called out.

You giggled. Poor Curtis had pulled up a chair and sat right outside of the library while you ate and relaxed. While you did trust that Bucky would respect the rule that he wouldn’t go into the library, your bodyguard was taking his role very seriously. “I’m glad you like them.”

“I’m sure Ray will thank you personally once you leave that room.”

You pushed the last bite of food around on your plate. Ray hadn’t said anything after that disastrous lunch, but you saw a bit of sorrow in his eyes. “Did you hear the conversation at the restaurant?”

“You mean did I hear Bucky ripping your parents a new asshole? Yeah, I heard it,” he confirmed.

You sighed. If Curtis heard, you were sure Ray heard, too, which would explain why he looked at you the way he did. Would you ever have real privacy? “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Why are you apologizing? It’s not like you made them shitty parents and you didn’t make Bucky say what he did. They made their choices and you were caught in the storm,” he said, voice even and not judgemental. He was speaking on the facts presented to him, and you appreciated that.

You didn't voice how much it hurt that your parents hadn't texted after you left, but what did you expect?

“Because you shouldn’t have had to hear that. Those feelings, even if they aren’t yours, shouldn’t be your burden to carry.” You moved a little closer to the door. “Do you think I’m in the wrong for being upset?”

You weren’t asking to get Curtis into any kind of trouble. Bucky was his boss, but he was your bodyguard now and you wanted his opinion. He was also different from the others. He wouldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear or blindly defend Bucky.

And you did feel that you had the right to be upset because your voice was taken away, but you were also relieved in a way. Bucky stood up for you the way no one else ever had, but the dice were loaded. It was always meant to end in his favor.

You heard Curtis sigh from where you stood. “When someone forces you into a cage or a box, it can lead to a lot of things. Anger, resentment, pain. Some fight back and others… adapt,” he said quietly. He sounded like he knew from experience. “I think you’re a mix of those. You’re fighting and adapting to your new world,” he continued. Was that really what he thought? “So are you wrong for being upset? No. I think you’re extremely human in your response because you want to be the one with your hands on the wheel.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears, but they faded quickly. Curtis understood that you wanted to be the driver in your life, not the passenger. “You’re very observant, Curtis. You’re also an anomaly, in a good way.”

Where had the man come from?

“I could say you’re an anomaly, too. You don’t let darkness taint you. You find a way to be the light within it,” he said, surprising you with his softness and bringing a small smile to your face. “So, how much longer are you going to stay there and avoid Bucky?”

“I’m not avoiding Bucky,” you said quickly.

Curtis laughed at you. “Please. You’re in the one room you know he can’t go in,” he pointed out. You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you. “And I admire that. Not many have the balls to shut him out, but you’ve done it more than once now.”

Guilt churned in your stomach before you pushed it away. You didn’t do anything wrong. “I’m not trying to shut him out. I just needed the space,” you said. Surely Bucky and Curtis could understand that after all the shut you went through.

“I get that,” he said, waiting for a beat before he added, “But may I offer some advice?”

“Sure,” you replied, bracing yourself for whatever he had to say.

“You have every right to use this space as your own because you deserve it, but don’t use it as a crutch,” he said carefully, likely not wanting to hurt your feelings.

Frustration bubbled within you before it faded as fast as it came. “So, you think I shouldn’t use this space when I’m upset?”

“I think you should carefully weigh out the options. If you’re really trying to build something with Bucky, you should use this space when you have to. Because the second you enter this room, you’re drawing a line that he can’t cross and he’s already losing whatever battle you’re waging,” he answered. You exhaled, wondering if Bucky viewed it the same way. “But believe me when I say there are some fights he’s meant to lose, and that’s when you should allow yourself to use the space and win.”

You found yourself smiling. His words made you think of Natasha. They didn’t outright fight Bucky to get you out of this, but they tried to help you adjust as they could. “You’re telling me to choose my battles wisely.”

“And don’t lose who you are at your core,” he said.

You considered his words as you lightly paced in the library. “But being here isn’t just about winning battles. It’s about taking back my control,” you explained. You had the right to dictate your life and actions even if it was Bucky’s world you were living in.

“So, take it back,” he said, making you scoff. It wasn’t that simple. “This may be the one room he can’t go in, but it doesn’t mean there can’t be other ground rules.”

“You really think he’ll let me change the rules?” you asked. Bucky was the one who made them and the man was stubborn to a fault.

“Some rules are meant to be broken. Others… they’re meant to be rewritten.”

You hadn’t expected to have such a deep conversation with Curtis after that disastrous lunch, but you couldn’t say you were upset about it. “I don’t know if I’m a rule breaker,” you admitted, walking toward the door so you could lean out and look at him. “But I think I can rewrite them.”

Warmth filled his blue eyes. “Whether you break or rewrite them, I have your back.”

You believed him.

“Sounds like you two are getting along well.”

You stuck your head out more and saw Bucky at the end of the hall. His smile didn’t reach his eyes and that smile fell when he looked at Curtis. Your bodyguard didn’t cower or flinch when he said, “Just doing my job.”

Bucky tilted his head. “Are you?” he asked like a whisper in the wind, threatening to build into a dangerous storm.

“He is,” you said, stepping into the hall. You had to keep Bucky’s jealousy in check. He couldn’t get upset if a man spoke to you. “He gave me some things to think about.”

Bucky strode toward you, but stopped before he could reach out and touch you. “You’re still upset with me,” he stated.

You didn’t deny that. The pangs in your chest still felt raw and new. “You really want me to teach you how to be the man I need?”

“Yes,” he said, the word fragile between you.

“Good,” you said, taking your phone out and sending a message to the girls. “I want to go to your club tonight with my friends.”

Mourning sometimes called for celebration. The winery trip with your friends hadn’t ended on a high note. Tonight would be different. You would have time with them, and you would have fun. You were determined.

Because your friends were still your family through and through.

Bucky spared Curtis a glance, surprise on both of their faces. “You want to go to our club?” Bucky questioned.

Your head snapped up, a strange feeling washing over you. You hadn’t thought about the club ever being yours. It was his domain, his world… that you were the queen in. What was his would be yours.

You nodded slowly. “I do. VIP section. My friends and I. We’ll consider it an additional bachelorette party for Addison. Or you can consider me accepting that I’m the queen of the club now. Your choice,” you explained.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck. While he looked happy at the idea of you going, he seemed apprehensive, too. Maybe he should feel that way. “Are you sure you want to go so soon after-”

“What happened? Yes. It’s my life. My decision,” you said. You were still healing and recovering, and you would do it how you saw fit. And while you still didn’t know where Clark was, you knew you wouldn’t ever see him again. “I’m going to have a drink with my friends and I’m going to dance and enjoy their company. And do you know what you are going to do?”

He swallowed, a nervous look crossing his face only for a moment. It was so quick you almost missed it. “What am I going to do?”

“You’re going to watch. You’re not going to sway my friends or charm them. You’re not going to interfere with our fun in any way, shape, or form,” you ordered, the way he ordered so many people around in his life.

Bucky looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t when you narrowed your eyes. “If that’s what you want,” he said, his voice tight.

“That's what I want.” You stepped closer and smiled, almost forgetting for a second that Curtis was within earshot. “I’m going to wear something sexy, something you’ll want to take off me,” you promised. Whatever you wore, you’d make sure you turned heads. “Something that may make you want to kill others just for looking at me,” you softly said, running a finger down his chest and making him tremble. “For what you think belongs to you.”

“Kotyonok,” he said through his teeth. His control was on the verge of snapping, but you didn’t care.

“You’ll watch me be your queen ruling over our kingdom and you’ll only join me when and if I allow it. Because the man I need? He knows when to stay in the shadows and will trust that I will call him into the light when I need him by my side,” you said, your lips a breath away from his. “Just like when I called you to save me.”

You trusted him to save you from Clark, but he hadn’t trusted you enough today to fight the battle with your parents. Or maybe it wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. It was simply that he thought his way was the only way. He was going to learn.

He took your choice away today even if he hadn’t meant to, even if he was doing what he thought was best. That wouldn’t happen tonight. You wouldn’t allow it.

“Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll let you dance with me. Maybe I’ll let you put your hands on me. Let you touch what you so desperately want to touch,” you breathed, watching his pupils dilate before you stepped back. “But if you come to me without me giving you explicit permission, you’ll have proven that I really don’t have any control or say and that bridge won’t be easy to mend. Do I make myself clear?”

Your heart pounded in your ears when Bucky stared you down, locked in a silent battle of wills. You hoped you weren't biting off more than you could chew, but you weren't backing down and you had to try. Didn't you owe yourself that?

Bucky smiled from ear to ear like you gave him a gift. Did he just let you win? “See? You're so fucking strong.” It was nice to hear, and you had to believe it within yourself. “And your orders are crystal clear. I’ll behave.”

You couldn't celebrate this victory, not until the night played out. “I guess we’ll see.” You shifted your gaze to Curtis and expected him to look uncomfortable, but he looked impressed. “I’m sorry, Curtis. I know you aren’t a fan of the club.” “Where you go, I go,” he said easily.

You offered him a smile, appreciating the loyalty you felt you hadn’t earned. “Now, I'm going to have a nice long bath and then I'm going to get ready,” you announced, brushing past Bucky with a smirk.

You were playing with fire, but Bucky wouldn't hold the matches tonight. You would be the one in control. And if he really wanted to be your king, he’d let you rewrite the rules as the queen you were.

We're going back to the club! Is Kotyonok playing with fire? Is Bucky going to behave or will a line be crossed? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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emeraldserenade · 1 day ago

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Could you do Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader who is a germaphobe?

Love Without Touch ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: You've always had to get to know someone before being able to touch them, and Joaquín doesn't mind one bit

tw: fem!reader, germaphobe!reader, reader's a germaphobe in the way Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds is (she's ok with touch from those she knows and trusts), barely edited.

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hi!! This got buried in my requests so I'm so sorry for just now getting to it. I hope you like it!!

➽──────────────❥

You weren't sure when it started, maybe you always felt this way or maybe it happened when you started learning about the transfer of germs. But you didn't like touching new people and everyone around you knew that. "Joaquín, when you meet her, do not touch her, ok?" Sam warned the younger man.

"Ok, but why?" Joaquín wanted to know, he wasn't going to touch you in anyway if you didn't want him to.

"She's got this thing about germs," Sam started to explain. "You'll see her touch others but that's because she knows and trusts them. I'm not entirely sure how her brain works, but she doesn't touch strangers unless she has to," Sam finished.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Joaquín noticed what Sam meant automatically. When the two of you got introduced, you just waved at him with a bright smile before pushing Bucky forward to actually greet Joaquín.

"Hi!" You cheerfully greeted Joaquín later in the day, you ended up next to him as Bucky and Sam were sparing.

"Hey," Joaquín smiled back at you and watched as you slowly lowered yourself down on the bench.

"I just wanted to say I have nothing against you, I just have a thing about germs. Not that I think your dirty, but I just don't touch strangers unless absolutely necessary. Not that greeting you wasn't necessary it's just," Joaquín cut your rant off with a small laugh.

"It's ok, Sam explained it to me on the way here," Joaquín assured you and you smiled over at him.

"Thank goodness, I just didn't want you to think that I was being rude or that I didn't want to be friends. Because I do want to be friends, if you want to of course," you told him, still slightly ranting.

"Of course I want to be friends, you were throwing Bucky around earlier," Joaquín joked.

"He was going easy on me, I got thrown particularly hard on my last mission and my back still hurts a bit," you shrugged it off, not caring for his praise.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

Joaquín wasn't put off by your lack of touch. If he made a joke about it, it was never at the expense of you. It was always "Don't worry about him, I wouldn't want to touch him either," when you refused to shake someone's hand at a gala only for them to call you rude and stuck up.

In packed bars, he would have you sit on the inside of a booth and got all of your drinks for you, and when you went to the bathroom? Joaquín was following to make sure no one got too close and made you uncomfortable.

Maybe that's why you found yourself falling for him, but you couldn't ask him out. Not when you couldn't give him the physical intimacy, sexual or not, that he deserved. But you were selfish, so you allowed yourself to believe that Joaquín could love you too.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

It started slow, a gentle brush of your hand with Joaquín's when you handed him something. A quick fix of his hair or clothes when you walked past and noticed something out of place. Sam told Joaquín that was you warming up to the idea of touching him, and it made Joaquín's heart soar.

He had found himself falling for you, not just attracted to you. But full on love, the way you laughed. How you always paid attention to whatever he said without cutting him off, asking questions if you didn't understand something. How you showed up to his house for your weekly movie night with his favorite candy and drinks and the prettiest smile on your face.

The day you grabbed onto Joaquín was a normal day. You were casually walking down the street with Sam, Bucky, and Joaquín to lunch when you got spooked. A man walked just a little too close and his arm brushed yours, so you did the first thing you thought of. You grabbed Joaquín's arm and ran his hand down your arm as if he could negate the germs the stranger passed to you. Sure it didn't actually work that way, but it seemed to calm your mind so no one pointed it out. Just like they didn't point out how you kept holding onto Joaquín's arm before sliding your hand down to hold his.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

From that day forward, Joaquín was added to the people who were comfortable with touching. And you both abused that comfort, Joaquín would come to you when he was having a hard day and wanted a hug. And you would just randomly lace your hand with Joaquín's to help ground yourself.

You would curl into Joaquín during your movie night. And Joaquín would wrap his arms around you in packed bars to keep a perimeter around you. It was during your weekly movie nights that Joaquín finally confessed. "I'm falling for you," Joaquín said it so casually while popping popcorn that you froze. "And I have been for a while, even before you were comfortable enough to touch me," Joaquín added on, wanting you to know he loved you for who you are. Your fear of germs and all.

"I've fallen for you, so you better catch up," you told him, moving to wrap your arms around him. Joaquín pulled you closer to him the microwave going off in the background but neither of you moved from the others arms.

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Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #mcu #marvel mcu #cabnw #cabnw spoilers #danny ramirez #danny ramirez x reader

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dinodaweeb · 2 days ago

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Batfam reacts to you dating a gangsta!

a/n: Um um um i know i said i stopped writing but this was in the drafts and my impulse control is so bad.

Let’s say you’re around 18, no gender specific, adopted into the family between Jason and Tim, and your boyfriend is charming, well-dressed, and maybe a little too smooth. You know he’s in the mafia — he’s even told you some (not all) of what he does. But he’s always kind to you, and you believe he’s trying to protect you from the worst of it. You tell the family with zero shame. Maybe something like:

“Yeah, I know he’s connected. So what? I’m not naïve. He treats me well, and he’s working on staying out of the worst parts.”

and let’s say their reactions are…

Bruce Wayne / Batman

Reaction: The ultimate Bat-dad disappointed silence. You have broken the bat.

He’s speechless at first. That very specific Bruce Wayne “tight-jawed, thousand-yard stare” happens.

“You knew… and stayed?”

He’s internally spiraling: Have I failed as a parent? Did I not model enough healthy relationships? (Yes, your questionable situationships with half of gothams villains is a perfect example.)

He doesn’t yell, but he pulls you aside for a very serious, very cold talk.“

“You cannot love someone whose hands are stained with blood and pretend that makes you clean.”

He will still surveil your boyfriend 24/7. Possibly more now, because you’re complicit.

Jason Todd / Red Hood

Reaction: Offended on a spiritual level.

“You KNEW?! And you’re OKAY with it?”

Jason, the former crime prince of Gotham, who crawled out of that world by the skin of his teeth? He’s livid.

“Do you know what these people do to families? To kids? What makes you think you’re an exception?”

It’s part rage, part heartbreak. He knows love can twist your judgment — he’s lived that.

Will probably try to get your BF to break up with you “for your own good” behind your back.

Tim Drake / Red Robin

Reaction: Breaks into a monologue like a concerned high school counselor… but hacker-edition.

“I just… I need to understand the logic here. You know he launders money for a crime syndicate, and you think that’s fixable?”

Pulls up your boyfriend’s criminal ties like it’s a PowerPoint presentation.

“He might not be violent, but he’s enabling people who are. You’re playing house in a shark tank.”

He won’t disown you or anything, but he will be lowkey emotionally distant until you “come to your senses.” Tim is praying for your boyfriend’s downfall.

Damian Wayne / Robin

Reaction: Absolutely off the rails. Drama. Blood. Sword-waving.

“You are willfully fraternizing with a criminal?!”

100% accuses you of dishonoring the family and the League of Assassins in the same sentence. He also attempts to assassinate your boyfriend at least once, but gets grounded.

Eventually tries to kidnap you away from the relationship.

“You are deluded. He will betray you. They always do.”

Ironically, he’s the most emotionally shaken by this. He views you as one of the few people he trusts, and this feels like personal betrayal.

Dick Grayson / Nightwing

Reaction: Big Brother™ heartbreak + “the talk.”

He tries so hard to stay chill, but you can see his concern radiating off him.

“Hey. You know I love you, right? That means I have to say this: You cannot save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. You can’t fix this.”

Doesn’t try to strong-arm you like the others. But you can tell he’s watching closely, always ready to jump in if you need help.

Offers you a safe way out — anytime, any day.

Secretly makes a pact with your boyfriend.

“You hurt them, and I will end you.”

Alfred Pennyworth

Reaction: Sips his tea. Quiet judgment. Legendary side-eye.

“Master Wayne, I believe your child has developed a taste for danger. Shall I prepare the mop for the blood?”

Alfred doesn’t scream or scold. He just lets disappointment settle into the room like a thick fog. Which makes you feel guilty for the first time about this.

At some point, gives you an ominously polite.

“Should the consequences of this relationship come to bear… I do hope you remember who stood by your side first.”

Bonus: How the Boyfriend Handles the Family

Absolutely terrified of Bruce, but tries to act unbothered.

Thinks Jason is kind of hot in a terrifying way and avoids him.

Tried to offer Tim a bribe once. It did not go well.

Genuinely wants to impress Dick and Alfred.

Damian tried to stab him. He still has a scar.

a/n: reminder: you can’t save people who don’t want to be saved. hurt people hurt people.

#dino’s blurbs #x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #female reader #male reader #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #red hood #damian wayne #batsib!reader #good dad bruce wayne #batsiblings

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wthphe1n · 21 hours ago

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I love how you write Vinny🫶 one of the best vinny writer out here! Can you give us some fluff for him? Like him and reader going to arcane but he canonically sucks at games lol^^

Token Me With You

Pairing: Vinny Hong x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff | Slice-of-life | Soft tsundere Vinny canon-compliant

Rating: PG

TW: None

A/N: here ya gooo all fluff no brakes and im still simping over that cheesecake fic lol appreciate the req and hope it hits right in the feels 😚 gotta whisper real quick im so damn proud of this pic i fixed up 🥹 Vinny’s SMILING. like full-on smile. I edited it myself worth every sec

(@kuchisabishiiiii @dzvelinaskebiyars @zyart-jpg @shintaru @sylith )

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It’s Friday night, and the air outside is thick with the smell of rain.

You don’t even need to check your phone to know it’ll pour soon—the sky’s already a dim, heavy blue. But you don’t care. Not when you’ve been planning this for weeks.

You tug Vinny’s wrist harder as you pull him toward the glowing entrance of the arcade.

“You’re walking like someone’s forcing you to come,” you huff, half-joking.

He shoots you a look. That familiar, deadpan Vinny Hong look. All narrowed eyes and that crooked mouth he doesn’t even realize he has when he’s annoyed. Or pretending to be.

“I told you,” he mutters. “I suck at these games.”

You don’t let go of his wrist. “You’re not here to win. You’re here for moral support.”

He scoffs. “You’re gonna need moral support after I crush your high scores.”

You giggle, satisfied. There it is. His pride, always just fragile enough to fall for your teasing.

The arcade lights spill like confetti—blues and magentas painting the side of Vinny’s face in neon. His hair, that fiery curl of red, is almost glowing under the fluorescent wash. You notice, not for the first time, how damn pretty he is when he’s not trying.

Your eyes follow the way his hand tightens around the joystick of the shooting game.

It’s been thirty seconds.

Game over.

“…How the hell,” he mumbles, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

You try so hard not to laugh. “You missed every single zombie.”

“I was reloading.”

“For thirty seconds?”

He grunts and rubs the back of his neck, stepping away like the machine personally insulted him. You slide in next to him, drop in another coin, and clear the first level with ease—leaning forward with focused eyes and quick fingers.

Vinny watches in silence. When you finally turn back to him, the corners of his lips are tugging upward—just slightly.

“You cheat,” he mutters.

You beam. “Nope. You just suck.”

He rolls his eyes. But then, before you know it, he’s at your side again—ready to try another game.

The claw machine is next. Because of course it is.

“That plushie,” you point, eyes sparkling. “The one with the little angry tiger face. That’s you.”

Vinny gives it a flat look. “You think I’m an angry tiger.”

“I think you’re an adorable angry tiger.”

He mutters something under his breath, steps up to the controls, and misses five times in a row.

“Don’t talk to me,” he grumbles.

You’re laughing now, hands pressed to your cheeks, eyes crinkled.

But then he says, “Close your eyes.”

You blink.

“…What?”

“Just. Close them.”

So you do.

You hear coins clinking. Plastic thuds. A soft curse.

And then—

A tiny plushie presses against your chest. It’s not the tiger. It’s a crooked little bear with one ear bigger than the other.

It’s ugly.

And somehow it’s the best thing anyone’s ever given you.

You open your eyes.

“I got it by accident,” he lies, looking away. “It dropped with the other one.”

You’re smiling so wide it hurts. “Thanks, Vin.”

He says nothing.

But his ears are red.

Later, you share a cheap bowl of udon from the food stall just outside the arcade. You both eat from the same bowl. He pretends not to notice when your chopsticks touch his. You pretend not to see how he saves the soft-boiled egg for you.

The rain starts on the walk home.

Not a downpour—just a soft, whispering kind of drizzle. The kind that clings to your hair and clothes and turns the city gold beneath the streetlights.

Vinny shrugs off his jacket without a word and drapes it over your head.

“I’m not gonna melt,” you say.

“You’re stupid,” he says.

You peek up at him through wet lashes.

“Say that again.”

“I said—”

“Stupid,” you echo with a grin. “Suits you better.”

His ears turn red again.

You love doing that.

The elevator dings softly at the 12th floor of your building. You step inside, shoes squeaking, the ugly bear plushie cradled in your arms.

Vinny lingers near the door, like he’s not sure if he should stay.

You nudge him with your shoulder.

“Come up. I have cheesecake.”

He pauses.

“You bought it for yourself?”

“Nope.”

“…You bought it for me?”

“Nope.”

He scoffs. “Then I’m not coming.”

You pull the puppy eyes card.

He caves immediately.

On your couch, you both sit cross-legged, wet hair dampening the cushions.

You pass him a plastic fork and the 7-Eleven cheesecake you bought that morning just in case—just in hope—he’d show up tonight.

He takes one bite.

“…Tastes like cardboard.”

You snort. “Shut up and eat it.”

He does.

You’re quiet for a moment. Rain tapping softly against the window. Arcade tokens still in your coat pocket. The plushie sitting between you.

Vinny’s voice breaks the silence.

“…Don’t get used to this.”

You glance at him.

“What?”

He’s looking at the ceiling, eyes unreadable.

“This kind of… stupid couple stuff.”

You smile gently.

“Too late.”

He finally meets your eyes.

And when you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek—quick, featherlight, just a thank you—he doesn’t flinch.

Just mutters:

“…Idiot.”

But he doesn’t stop you when you rest your head on his shoulder.

And when you fall asleep like that, with the glow of the city outside and the arcade lights still dancing behind your eyelids—

You don’t see him smiling.

But he is.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

#phe1narchives #windbreaker manhwa #windbreaker webtoon #vinny hong #vinny hong x reader #sabbath crew

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belovedenzo · 2 days ago

Text

happy birthday, sorry for cheating // lorenzo berkshire

summary; after finding your boyfriend enzo kissing another girl on your birthday, he will do anything to make it up to you.

notes; I decided to write a lil drabble about birthday head but make it toxic bc well… yk me

words; 700 probably

warnings; SMUT NSFW MDNI 18+!!! reader gets cheated on and manipulated. toxic!! enzo. graphic pussy eating. coercion?? wrote this fast asf, not proof read or edited tbh

it hadn’t even been an hour into your ‘birthday celebration’ before your oh so aggravating boyfriend was too drunk to stand and on the arm of some other girl. The whole idea of this stupid party in the common room was grueling to begin with… and now this. Not only is it embarrassing but downright disrespectful. A tear might have even rolled down your cheek as you watched him kiss her if it wasn’t for the fact that he does this all the time.

At this point, you don’t even think he has any shame or remorse, and you see none in his eye as he glances your way, lips locked with a ravenclaw. He almost seems smug about it. He always stays that way too until you threaten to leave him. Once that happens he begs, no matter how upset you are he knows that with time you’ll bend and break beneath his empty promises and apologies.

Maybe your boyfriend has a cheating fetish, or maybe he likes to watch you squirm and cry. Either way you were sure tonight that this would be the last time he got to fulfill his sick fantasies with you. It started as an argument, as per usual. That’s when the tears always start, no amount of strength can stop them.

This time he also cries as you tell him it’s over through gritted teeth. You can’t tell if it’s the alcohol in his system or a desperate attempt to believe this time, that he truly is sorry. But the pain in his eyes, make shift or not are just enough to make your confidence wither into dust.

By now, Enzo has mastered the art of getting you into bed, whether you are angry or not.

“Just let me make you feel good… please. I’ll make it up to you, I’ll do anything you want. I’ll be anything you want just let me touch you.”

It doesn’t take long before he has you on your back, skirt pulled down to your ankles, barely holding onto the ends of your toes. Enzo’s big, slender hands grip the meat of your thigh, pushing them back to gain access to what he wants most. You say good bye to your tenth pair of panties this month as he rips the damp fabric down the front of your pussy. A gasp nearly leaves you as a breeze passes over your newly exposed core. This however does not last long as your boyfriend’s warm tongue takes a long drag against your folds.

Whimpers and whines quickly fill the room as he takes his time leaving long affectionate licks down your pussy. Your eyes meet just for a moment, a sly smirk playing on his lips as his tongue memorizes every fold you have.

Enzo never fails to eat you like it’s his last meal, and this time his mouth has some extra apologizing to do. Usually he would start out slow and teasing, which has been enough to bring you to tears many times. But tonight it’s your birthday and it’s time to celebrate, his one job is to make you cum and he’s going to do it promptly.

Lewd sounds mix with your moans, causing a blush to creep towards your cheeks. Your eyes flutter shut as his tongue does tricks on your bundle of nerves- you didn’t even notice one of his hands going for your tight hole until his digest began to probe your entrance.

His fingers work their way inside of you like butter, instantly finding all the best spots. His tongue and fingers work in tandem to get you close to the edge. His mouth only leaves you for an occasional praise or glance to see what he’s done to you. He has you right where he likes you best.

He can feel your walls tighten around the now two digits he has shoved into you at the knuckle, meaning you’re nice and close for him. Just seconds after your shaking and squealing as his mouth latches to your clit one last time.

“Happy birthday baby, you’ll always be my favorite girl.”

love, spell <3

taglist; lmk if u wanna be added or removed @dracosprettygirl @draco-malfoys-lovergirl @dearmisshoney @dearnott @i-await @juliet-017 @harkovsangel @riddlemelater @nottscherry @moscatosin @hayleygrrr @riddlesrizzler @riddlesbunny @viperify @ur-local-wizard @eternalbuckley @biscuits-and-gracie @rriddlesgirl @obsessedwithceleste @nodoubtily @pizzaapeteer @luckycharmedpuff @2dloveshp @illbegottenfaith @theosang3ls

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minjoongism · 15 hours ago

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1/2 seeing all the ming clips at the concert yesterday has me remembering all the comments abt him being “too much” and man ppl rly don’t get it. that’s what makes him such a great performer 😭 i feel like he’s crafted such a personality for himself that people don’t even think twice about his antics anymore, that they don’t realize the much guts it takes to go all out on stage. this is true for ALL the guys, honestly, but mingi leans into silly and makes it work for him

2/2 mingi wonka is ridiculous, being carried by BBT is hilarious, and going on a full sprint down the runway to lead a barking fanchant is INSANE. but more importantly, it’s FUN. he’s so fun and goofy and So Much, and he makes me want to watch their concert more than anything else. it’s why i think anyone who thinks he’s Too Much takes mingi too seriously. it’s all just good vibes. we can all live with a little whimsy for 3 hours~

(putting the second half of your ask in with this one because it's all relevant)

when mingi's switched on (fixed on? fix on!), he is, in my opinion, up there for one of the biggest whiplash-givers in ateez, right by san and sometimes seonghwa. san's 'grand duke of the north' persona gets a lot of attention (and rightfully so, both for how immersive it is and how different it is from offstage san), but i think mingi's 'gimmicky' stage self deserves just as much attention for how all-encompassing it is. you're right that it's got to take a lot of guts to stand in front of thousands of people and put on an act as brash and loud as the one mingi does. i've always admired the way he seems so willing to be the weird one - to be the guy people can point and laugh at for being silly and off-beat and ridiculously earnest - without getting self-conscious and bailing out of fully committing to the bit.

(+ i also don't think people give him enough credit for how difficult it must be to maintain that level the whole time. he's picked such a high-energy character to play that it must be absolutely exhausting to keep that tempo for hours on end. not to mention he's got a fractured toe at the moment and he's just done two back to back days of running, jumping, and dancing without showing even the slightest bit of discomfort or dialling things back and taking it easy?? the man's completely dedicated to putting on a show for us.)

every video i've seen from the first two days of the tour of roar have been absolutely electric. people criticise mingi for being too much, but if what he's doing is too much, then why does the crowd love it so much? why did they keep barking even after his solo was done? why did crowds across the europe during the last tour bark at him unprompted after they saw him initiating barking the first time? and if people really do wish he'd dial everything down, then why does his stage persona spawn so many fancams and edits?

i think some people nowadays are afraid of anything that isn't ironic or nonchalant because they're afraid of being seen as cringe, and anything earnest or high-energy or clearly trying all counts as cringe for some reason. but when it comes down to it, when you're in an arena, do you really want an artist who doesn't engage with the crowd, who doesn't make an effort, who doesn't put on a show? i personally don't - and i don't think most people do, either, based on how much live audiences love mingi.

#💌.ask #ateez #mingi #song mingi #mingi wonka returning in blind was one of the best things to happen to me #and him being spun around during shaboom?? hilarious #but ALSO. i think we need to acknowledge how difficult it is to rap in the position he was in #it's silly to watch 100% but it's also wildly impressive #in your fantasy #← for concert mentions

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lucy-literates · 1 day ago

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Hello 👋🏻☺️ I hope your doing well.

I had an idea but sadly the writer i asked dosen't do Arthur fics with I understand, so hopefully you might be able to?.

I was wondering if you could possibility write something were it's Arthur's amd readers wedding and because so dosen't have a good relationship with her dad so she cant do the father daughter dance with hime(#daddyissues😅 anyway) she ends up doing the dance with her mum and they dance to slipping though my fingers by ABBA.

If thats ok

A/N: Hey! Sorry it took me so long, I hope you enjoy this :)

Slipping Through My Fingers

You didn’t think it would sting this much.

You told yourself it wouldn’t — that it was just one dance. A few minutes. A tradition that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. You had your mum. You had your brothers. You had Arthur.

You were fine.

But as the music softened and the MC’s voice echoed through the venue — “And now, our beautiful bride will share her first dance with her father” — the quiet hit like a punch to the ribs.

You sat frozen, heart hammering. You hadn’t even told half the guests the truth. That your dad wasn’t invited. That he’d made your childhood something to survive instead of remember. That this moment didn’t belong to him — never had.

There was a beat of silence. A shift in energy. A few confused glances.

And then you felt a hand slip into yours.

Your mum.

She didn’t say anything — didn’t need to. Her eyes were glassy, her smile gentle. She squeezed your hand and whispered, “Come on, baby. Dance with me.”

Your throat tightened.

The opening chords of “Slipping Through My Fingers” floated softly through the air.

You nodded, lips trembling as you stood.

The crowd quieted as the two of you walked to the center of the dance floor. There was no announcement. No dramatic shift. Just a slow, quiet moment between mother and daughter.

You curled into her arms, and she held you the way she used to — like you were five again, standing on her toes in the kitchen, spinning in socks.

The lyrics started:

“Slipping through my fingers all the time I try to capture every minute…”

And that was it.

You lost it.

Tears welled. Fell.

Not from pain — not tonight. But from the ache of knowing this woman had tried to fill every gap, patch every hole, love you twice as hard to make up for what you were missing.

She kissed your hair and whispered, “You’ve always been my girl.”

You whispered back, “You were both parents.”

Arthur watched from your shared table, his chest tight, fingers curling into the napkin in his lap. He wasn’t crying, but only because he already had earlier. During vows. During the ceremony. When you looked at him like he was home.

Around the room, people began to understand. The sniffles started. Quietly, guests wiped their eyes, watching something more powerful than tradition — a daughter thanking the woman who raised her.

When the song ended, the room clapped gently, not wildly. Not party-style.

It was soft. Respectful. Reverent.

You stepped back, cheeks damp, and your mum brushed a curl behind your ear with trembling fingers. “Your dad missed out on the best girl in the world,” she whispered. “But I never did.”

And then Arthur was there.

He pulled you into his arms like he’d been aching to all night.

“I love you,” he murmured, kissing your forehead. “More than anyone ever has, or ever will.”

You didn’t need the father-daughter dance.

You had the only people you ever needed right in front of you.

Tag List:

@livelaughleclerc

@alexxavicry

@ariellovelynn

@linnygirl09

@softhyunieeee

@astrlape

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=drivesdk

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x y/n #arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc fluff

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skzdominate · 2 days ago

Text

BREAKUP VACATION

Han Jisung x fem!black! Reader

NOT REQUESTED

Sharing a bed with needy ex-boyfriend Han on a trip you both didn't cancel after the breakup.

word count: 5.46k

PLEASEEE if you enjoy this like, comment, and repost I spent literal DAYSS on this🙏🏾🙏🏾

also can somebody friggin request something on this account I'm desperate (more weak hero posts soon on @parkjihoonswifey)

WARNINGS: smut 18+, oral (f), fingering (f), use of y/n, angst(although I'm terrible at it), I can't think straight I've been up all night editing this.

no it's not proofread blow me I haven't slept in 29 hours and I have work at 11 today 🥀🥀

also ts kinda buns...

REBLOG TO MAKE ME FAMOUS GUYS.

WE AIN'T EVEN FAMOUS!!! (tarzzan or whoever you spell it he so fine i don't give a damn about them cornrows he looks the fuck good to me😩😩

PUT MY SNEAKERS ON!! HA-NA DUL READY GET SET GO(this is me starting the story)

Your last fight with jisung wasn't like the others. You didn't scream at him, he didn't scream at you. You didn't say much, just a silent plea for him to notice your insecurities—notice you.

Your relationship was great. You loved him like an idiot, and he loved you ten times greater. You stayed together when he wasn't at dorms, and when he was there, so were you.

The fans weren't always a problem, but the more you saw—the more edits, the more tweets, the more comments that flooded under his posts—you couldn't help but feel some type of way.

Han was always busy, whether it was practicing, producing, tours, anything else, he almost never had time for you during the day.

Over time, he got more annoyed when you brought it up, but never showed it too much. “I'm sorry you feel like that” and “I'm right here” turned into "You're talking crazy" and "Stop overthinking it so much". It made you sick to your stomach, and made you wonder how you let him treat you like this.

One thing never changed. Every night before a tour, he'd leave you a gift—usually a small piece of jewelry or he'd take you out. Then a few hours later, he left. He'd go on stage and look amazing. It always made you feel jealous, even if you knew what was yours.

This particular fight, though—your last fight—started over something completely different. Not the fans, not the insecurities—something completely worse.

"Jisung," you say calmly to him, walking into the living room where he sat, laid back and man spreading on the couch. He barely looked up from his phone, muttering a small "hm?".

You tried to control your anger, you really did. You took a deep breath, "Have you been telling the guys about our sex life?" You cross your arms, hands shaking. He drops his phone into his lap, and looks up at you with pretty eyes. His skin looked so beautiful—tan the way you loved, cheeks soft, and lips thick. He looked so perfect.

"I might've," he holds his hands up in defeat, "but it's not like we really have one, do we? I mean between shows and you being mad all the time, we haven't had sex in a while," he stands, headed towards the kitchen unbothered.

You follow him though, "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means what I said. We haven't had sex since I got back from the last tour—that's almost two weeks now. Don't act surprised."

"Well sorry that I'm surprised that my own boyfriend isn't satisfied with our sex life! Am I the problem for not being in the mood sometimes?"

He steps forward, his hands slowly finding their way to your waist, but you push him away, "Not the time, Jisung. Are you gonna talk to me like an actual man or should I go?"

He turns away, but doesn't answer immediately. The silence breaks your heart." Maybe you should.”

You honestly were surprised. You walked away, eyes starting to water, packing a small bag and texting Chan. He watched you move, eyes never leaving you.

“Where are you gonna go? You don't have anywhere to go.”

“Away from you, away from all this. I'll go to San’s house for all you care,” you lied. You grab your car keys—about the only thing of yours he didn't pay for—and headed towards the door.

He ran up behind you, grabbing your shoulder and pinning you to the wall next to the door. His eyes were shocked, sad, and helpless. He looked confused, not knowing what to do or say.

“Baby, I didn't mean it, nothing I said. You know I'm under pressure and I'm just stressed. But going to your ex’s house? lowball, even for you.”

You push him off of you, brows shifting in anger, “The only “ex’s” now are me and you. It's over, Jisung. For real.” You reach for the door before he can stop you, already outside and dialing Chan's number.

“Hello?” he answers on the second ring.

“Hey, Chan. I just—I just had a fight with Jisung. Can I come to your dorm?”

“Holy shit. Of course you can. What happened?” he questions, background noise suggesting he just sat up out of bed.

“I'll explain when I get there,” you make your way down the stairs and out the main door.

“No problem, take your time. Be careful driving.”

“Yeah, thanks”

you hang up, making your way out to the garage.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

You pull up to Chan waiting outside for you. By this time, you had tears streaming down your face and ruined eyelashes. You quickly got out, still aware that you're in public and hurried over to where he stood in a cap and mask. He took them off when he saw you approach, and immediately pulled you in for a hug.

“Aww, Bug, are you okay?” he wraps his arms around your back, right hand rubbing up and down slowly. You stood there crying for a second before pulling away.

“I'm sorry for making you come out here. we can go inside,” you pass him and go into the back door to the building.

Once inside, the other members see you and question, but Chan pushes them away and leads you to his room.

“Stay here for as long as you need, get comfortable. Do you wanna explain,” he sits carefully on the bed next to you. You fall into him, arms around his neck, face buried into his chest.

“I just loved him endlessly and he told me to leave because I asked him if he was telling you guys about our sex and he basically said he wasn't satisfied with me. Then he tried kissing me and I refused so he got upset,” You had wiped your runny nose on your sleeve, and Chan wiped the tears from your eyes.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, chan pulling you in and stroking your hair to comfort you.

You had calmed down a bit—enough to stop crying. “I just don't feel appreciated and I broke up with him and it feels like I shouldn't have. I love him, Chris. I really do.”

He nods along, carefully choosing his next words, “I think being alone for a while will be good for both of you. You're both my best mates, and you look pretty damn good together. I think you just need a break, or to be alone with him—not worrying about fans, friends, sex. It'll do you some good, kiddo. Think about it,” and the next second he's off the bed and out the room. You let your body fall back against his sheets, and before you know it you're passed out.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

You woke up in Chan’s bed, sweaty and missing a shoe. Your hair was a mess and your tears stained his pillowcase. Your vision wasn't fully there, but you could hear the faint voice of Chan and someone else across the room.

Jisung laid lazily on the floor, and Chan sat in his chair by his desk.

“I messed up, Chan. And I love her too much. I don't know what to do.”

“Look, Ji. I can't give you great advice. What you did was wrong. Telling me and the boys about private stuff was wrong, and you need to put yourself in her shoes.”

“I'm trying to, chan. Its just-”

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

You wake up again, this time to a room full of quiet. Chan’s bed still smells like laundry detergent and pinewood cologne. The ache behind your eyes is sharp, but your body feels heavier now—like the weight of crying so hard yesterday is still clinging to your bones.

You roll over, face against the mattress for a minute before slowly sitting up. You blink against the weak sunlight streaming through the crack in the blinds, legs swinging over the side. Your shoe is missing. You find it under Chan’s bed and put it back on before tiptoeing out to the living room. It’s empty now. A note on the counter reads: “Went to the studio. Take your time. I stocked the fridge.”

It’s signed with a little smiley face and wolfchan next to it.

You breathe in slowly, then out.

Eventually, you gather your things, call a cab, and head back to your apartment. Everything feels muffled and slow—like you’re walking through fog. The moment you step into your place, it’s like the silence rushes to meet you. No shoes at the door next to yours. No jacket on the rack. No spare beanie he always left on your kitchen chair. It’s really over.

You shower. The water is too hot and your skin feels like it's on fire under the stream, but it’s the first time in a while you feel clean. Not in the physical way—but in the way that says, I can start again. You let it rinse over you until your fingers wrinkle.

After wrapping yourself in a towel, you sit on your bed and check your phone. That’s when you see it—a notification from your calendar app:

“3 Days Until Trip w/ Jisung 💕✈️”

You’d forgotten. You both planned this two months ago—something quiet, out of the country, somewhere he promised wouldn’t have fans or cameras. A place you could both be just people. Just in love.

You stare at the notification for a long moment before going to your contacts.

You:

Can we talk?

Just on the phone. Please.

He replies almost instantly.

Jisung:

Yeah. I’m free.

You call.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey.”

His voice is hoarse, careful. Like he’s holding it with both hands.

“Hey,” you say softly. There’s a pause. You swallow. “I got the reminder. About the trip.”

Another pause. You can hear a car passing in the background on his end. “Yeah... I didn’t cancel it. Just in case.”

“I don’t wanna miss it,” you admit quietly. “I think... even if everything’s messy right now, we shouldn’t throw this away too.”

He hums, something a little smug bleeding into his voice. “So what you’re saying is... you miss me.”

You sigh. “No, Jisung.”

“You miss me already and you’re using this trip as an excuse to see me again—”

“I’m not using anything as an excuse,” you retaliate, sitting up straighter. “I’m not even ready. The plane leaves in three days.”

“That’s plenty of time,” he says casually. “Book yourself a lash appointment. And nails. And eyebrows, and whatever else you want, I'll pay. I know you love looking good.”

“Jisung,” you warn. “Don’t do that.”

“I am doing that,” he says, and you hear the ping of a notification on your end. You check your phone.

It’s a text.

💳: XXXX-XXXX-XXXX-0325

Expiration: 03/26

CVC: 325

“Are you insane?” you ask, blinking. “You just sent me your card info?”

“Yup,” he says, proud. “Go get your shit done. I know you won’t do it unless I force you. Consider it my for now apology.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“I don’t care,” he says, voice softening now. “I want to see you. Not even to fix things right away—just to be somewhere without all the noise. Just us.”

There’s silence for a second. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until your lungs start to ache.

Finally, you exhale. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, baby,” he says, voice gentle but laced with the cockiness you pretend to hate. “Pack light. I’m gonna make you forget we ever fought.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t push it.”

He laughs. “See you soon.”

When the call ends, you sit there for a moment. The weight’s still there—but lighter now. A flicker of warmth settles in your chest, and for the first time in hours, you let yourself smile. Just a little.

Maybe it isn’t fixed.

But it isn’t finished either.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

✈︎ Three Days Later ✈︎

The airport buzzes like a beehive—air thick with the scent of coffee, perfume, and exhaustion. You pull your suitcase behind you, looking just a little too good for someone who barely slept last night. You’re not sure if it’s the lashes, the braids that are tightly pulling at your scalp, the fresh brows, the glossed lips—or the faint hope curled in your stomach—but your confidence is back, even if your heart’s still cautious.

You spot him by the check-in kiosk, hoodie over his head, a duffle slung low on his shoulder. His mask is hanging loose around his chin, AirPods in and of course he’s on his phone.

Typical.

You roll your suitcase up to him and clear your throat. Loudly.

Jisung looks up and stops in his tracks, gaze roaming slowly, deliberately.

His mouth tugs into a smug smile. “Damn.”

You blink. “What?”

He raises a brow and gestures lazily with his fingers. “The Braids. The nails. The lashes. The fit—” he tugs the hem of your top teasingly—“You went all out.”

“Don’t act surprised.”

“Oh, I’m not surprised,” he says with a grin. “Just impressed. And proud. Mostly because I paid for all of it.”

You scoff, tugging your sleeve away.

“What? you look good,” he says, winking. “Let me at least look at what I bought.”

“Jisung, you sent me your credit card information and forced me to.”

“Yeah. And it worked, didn’t it?” He falls in step beside you as you both head toward security. “I knew you wouldn’t let yourself show up looking like a raccoon again.”

You punch his arm lightly, and he hisses. “Ow!”

“That was for the ‘again.’”

After security, you both find yourselves waiting at the gate. He insists on getting food, dragging you to a ramen bar tucked behind a convenience store. You try to keep the conversation surface-level—weather, music, bad airport design—but his knee keeps bumping yours under the table, and when he slurps his noodles too loudly, you side-eye him.

“Can you not eat like a wild animal?”

“This is my happy slurp,” he says, eyes twinkling. “It means I’m in a good mood.”

You shake your head, sipping your soup quietly. He pauses mid-bite, watching you. There’s something soft in his gaze—like he can’t quite believe you’re here, across from him again.

You feel it, too. But neither of you say it. This trip wasn't going to be awkward, you could tell by the way it was now—how he could laugh with you, compliment you, and how you didn't let your hurt show but instead replaced it with sarcasm and jokes that didn't feel fake.

___

Boarding.

You’re herded into the plane like cattle, except you’re the lucky kind—first class. Your seats are the lie-flat kind, with the fancy partitions and the silk-lined pillows. Except there’s a small catch.

Your “suite” is... connected. Intimately. A shared pod with a single double-sized bed across the middle, mood lighting glowing faintly along the edges.

You glance at the flight attendant. “Are we supposed to—?”

Jisung grins. “Yup.”

“This is for couples.”

“We were a couple when we booked it,” he says, setting his bag down casually. “We both paid half. That means we share.”

You huff and throw your purse into the corner of the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Oh my god,” he groans, already reclining. “You’re so dramatic. Just sleep. I don’t bite.”

You shoot him a look. “Yes, you do.”

He smirks and adjusts his pillow. “Only when you asked me to.”

You throw a packet of peanuts at his head.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

10+ hours later...

You land in Santorini. It’s sunset—gold light melting across the island, painting everything in creamsicle hues. The villa shuttle waits just outside the terminal, and the salty breeze carries promises you’re not ready to believe yet.

The hotel itself is breathtaking. Built into the cliffs, whitewashed stone walls glowing soft against the ocean beyond. But of course—

“There’s only one bed,” you say flatly, staring at the room’s massive centerpiece.

Jisung shrugs behind you. “For the second time today—We booked this before what happened. Of course it’s one bed.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“There is no couch,” he says. “Just that weird rattan chair and... a big window.”

You spin around. “Then I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p.’ “We’re sharing. We’re adults. And we both paid half.”

“That’s your excuse for everything.”

“And it’s a damn good one.”

You narrow your eyes but say nothing.

He walks past you, dropping his bags by the closet. “Fine. Sleep where you want. But if you get cold and crawl in next to me at 3am, I will say ‘I told you so.’”

You hurl a pillow at his head. Again.

—

The Day’s Itinerary

1. The Villa Tour

A guide meets you both outside your room, walking you through the property. Olive trees line the paths. There’s a private pool. The kind of view Instagram would kill for. You pretend to be unimpressed, but Jisung is awe-struck—pointing at every archway, every bougainvillea bloom.

“Holy crap, is that a grapevine?” he exclaims, reaching up to touch it.

“Don’t touch the grapes,” the guide warns gently.

You stifle a laugh, “Yeah, idiot.”

“Do you wanna fight?” he grabs your waist, lifting you up off the ground and slinging you over his shoulder ( Han Jisung detwinkification *licks lips and rubs hands together*). You yelp, hitting his back and laughing.

The guide side-eyes you both the rest of the tour.

2. Couples Yoga

You hadn’t realized “couples yoga” meant actual synchronized poses. You try not to laugh as Jisung struggles to hold a downward dog while the instructor pushes his hips into place.

“My hips don’t bend like that, dude!” he whines, wobbling.

“They usually do,” you mutter under your breath, forgetting yourself for a second.

He freezes.

You freeze.

Then you both start laughing.

You fall sideways on your mat, tears forming from how hard you’re giggling. It’s stupid, awkward, and entirely necessary.

The instructor cuts the session short.

3. Brunch by the Sea

A glass patio overlooks the Aegean. The restaurant is decked in airy whites and creams, soft music humming in the background. You order lemon ricotta pancakes with fig jam. Jisung gets something stupid involving squid and eggs.

You steal a bite anyway. He lets you.

At one point, you both go quiet. He looks at you over his glass of orange juice.

“I’m glad we came.”

You nod slowly. “Me too.”

4. Gift Shopping in Town

You wander cobblestone streets lined with tiny shops. Jisung buys a matching pair of seashell bracelets without saying anything. Just slips one onto your wrist like he’s done a hundred times.

“I thought we weren’t doing cheesy couple stuff,” you say.

“It’s not couple stuff. It’s just... shells from a guy trying to get his girl back..”

“You’re the worst.”

He grins.

You buy him a handmade journal and a pen carved from olive wood.

He doesn’t say anything, but he tucks it carefully into his bag like it’s fragile.

5. Movie on the Beach

A makeshift screen flutters in the breeze, beanbags arranged in rows under the stars. You both huddle under a shared blanket, sipping from coconuts and ignoring the rom-com playing onscreen.

When the couple kisses, Jisung makes a joke under his breath. “They look like they’ve never kissed before.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And you’re a professional?”

“I have a PhD in kissing.”

You scoff. “You got that from TikTok.”

“I got it from you.”

Your face burns, but you don’t pull away when his pinky brushes yours under the blanket.

6. Private Beach at Night (yes, you booked it)

The water’s cold, but the moon is warm. Or maybe it’s the way Jisung’s hand keeps finding yours every few minutes, like he forgets he shouldn’t.

You both walk the shoreline in silence, toes in the sand, wind pulling gently at your clothes.

“I really messed up, didn’t I?” he says finally, voice low.

You look at him. “Yeah.”

He swallows. “I’m sorry. For the fans, the comments, the way I brushed it off. For making you feel like you weren’t enough.”

“I never said I wasn’t enough,” you reply, staring at the waves.

“No,” he nods, “but I made you feel like it. And that’s worse.”

You nod once.

He stops walking, turning toward you. “Can I kiss you?”

You hesitate.

Then, wordlessly, you lean in and let him.

It's slow. It's familiar. Quiet in the way all the best things are. When it ends, you don’t step back.

Neither does he.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

You both get ready for bed in silence. There’s a soft kind of nervousness in the air now—not from anger, or tension, but something more dangerous: vulnerability.

He’s shirtless, toweling off his hair, and you’re already sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the wall.

You sit there like that for a while. Not stalling, just... thinking.

The mattress dips slightly as he sits beside you, “You okay?”

You nod.

More silence.

Then, quietly: “Thanks for coming.”

You sigh. “Thanks for paying for my eyebrows.”

He laughs, breath warm against your face. “They look amazing, by the way.”

“Shut up.”

“Still in love with me, huh?”

You roll your eyes and lay down, but you don’t deny it.

Not yet.

Not tonight.

You slipped under the covers, and he copied. You got comfortable on opposite sides of the same bed, something foreign thatfelt like it shouldn't happen.

Next to you, Han shifted uncontrollably. He tossed his covers off, shifted some more, and ended up going to the bathroom. He was gone for only a minute, pulling the covers over himself again.

Ten minutes later, he shifted some more. You couldn't sleep—not because of him, but because no one was there to hold while you drifted off. You glanced at the clock, 11:27pm.

You both lay there, afraid to wake each other up. You shifted, he shifted. He groaned into his pillow like he was having the worst night of his life.

Han breaks the silence with his smug attitude and smirk on his face. “I know you're up,” he sighs quietly.

“Yeah, and?” you sit up, him following. You flick on the light next to your bed, and the glow of your skin is beautiful enough to kill him.

"Well, ya'know, after all the stuff we did today, I think I deserve at least another kiss,"

"Han, go to bed,” you lay back down.

He scoots himself closer to you, arm wrapping around over your hips. You can feel his half hard on under his grey sweats. Your breath catches in your throat, and he laughs to himself.

"Listen,I can't deny it, Han. I did feel like a couple again today, but I just can't be with you right now. Your fan base is too extreme."

His lips meet your neck, kissing softly while you hum in response. "C'mon, pretty girl. I'm not asking you for a day, a week, or more. I'm asking for tonight. Be mine again tonight? please?" his hips bucking into yours, and you sigh against him.

He pulls away, pulling back the covers that lay over you. His right hand rubs your hips, his left toying with the bottom of your tank top. He lifts himself to the bottom of the bed, hands spreading your legs. He climbs up your body to your eyes, looking at you for a form of consent.

“please..”

he leans in, his lips meeting yours as his hands roam your body. His right hand tugs your shorts down while his left grabs at your waist.

He pulls away, breath heavy as he lifts your legs in the air to discard your shorts. The cold air hits your soaked panties and you gasp. His face meets your clothes core and he groans, “So fucking wet for me. I missed this so much.” He kisses your panties softly.

You whine out softly, hips pushing yourself closer.

He kisses down your left thigh, moaning into it like he hasn't done it in years. "Your fucking thighs baby—so pretty, so brown. missed seeing them bare, spread open so good for me.”

He takes his time, kissing up and down your thigh like it gave him pleasure—and it did, more than you had expected. He moves to the right, groaning into your skin and doing the same he did to the left.

He particularly takes a liking to your right thigh, kissing and biting and sucking. He licks a small space from your inner thigh to the top. His eyes darken and he licks his lips, "Tastes like that coco shea butter lotion you always use, so fucking delicious. missed having you like this—so so much baby,” he licks once more before shifting his attention to your cunt in his face.

He slips your panties to the side, tongue coming out to lick your clit. You gasp out, and your hips move on their own for friction.

He doesn't stop you, he leans into it more, licking, sucking, and sticking his tongue into you. You clench around nothing as he sucks your clit, gasps and moans coming from you above him.

“You're so wet f’me. I love it."

He doesn't ever stop. He inserts a finger into you, then another. Your moans fill the large space as he fingers you, his tongue glued to your clit.

He pulls away briefly,"So grateful for you, letting me have you like this. Brown skin shaking for me. fuckin’ love this color, gets me so horny,” and he's back, finger now rubbing your clit as he fucks you with his tongue.

You squirm and buck against his hand, whimpering as your moans become more high pitched. This doesn't go unnoticed, and he makes sure to keep the pace even.

His fingers find their way into you,"You gonna cum on my fingers? show me how good I ruin you without even using my dick?” he kisses and sucks your clit as you hit your high.

Your back arches, your vision goes white,you silently scream his name. He kisses up your body to your lips, and he kisses you, giving you a taste of yourself. The feeling felt like deja vu ( TXT ) —your boyfriend, technically ex, was kissing your body after giving you the most amazing head.

“Can you take me, baby?” he asks politely, dick pressing into your thigh desperately.

“Yes, please,” you sit up on your elbows, kissing him. He groans in your mouth, hands grabbing at your face lovingly. You catch a glimpse of the digital clock on the nightstand again, 12:43am.

Han's slipping your panties down, tugging his shorts off and his boxers. You watch him anxiously, waiting and silently wishing he would hurry up.

When he finally does get himself lined up, and starts pushing in at an annoyingly slow pace, you whine into his shoulder.”Han, please” You drag his name on your lips.

"Give me a second, baby. So much tighter than I remember. so pretty and perfect,” he grunts. Once he's fully in,he pauses to let you adjust, hands and lips roaming your body. when he starts moving, he groans softly into your neck.

"I'm gonna show you how sorry I am. Show you how much I missed you, and how bad I fucked up.” He softly presses kisses all over your face. He pulls out enough just so the tip is right at your entrance, and slowly pushes back in.

"I love you, y/n. I love you so much and I was an idiot to make you feel anything but happy around me. Forgive me? please?” He kisses into the crook of your neck, raising his head as he pushes in agonizingly slow.

“I forgive you, Han. Just make me forget,” you press your lips to his. He hums in your mouth, lips never leaving yours, even as he spoke

“I wanna make love to you right now. I'm gonna marry you, let you have my last name and carry my baby,” his pace suddenly feels okay,and the slowness only makes the experience better.

“Fucking love you, please don't leave me—ever. Let me make it up to you every time like this," his thrusts sped up a bit, barely noticeable but the way you felt him deeper said it all.

he pulls out briefly, turning you on your stomach before pushing back inside. The angle is new—deeper, sexier, filther. All you do is moan louder.

"I love you like this, you look so good. Don't ever leave, okay?."

“never.”

he smiles, grunting low as his hand makes its way into your fresh braids. He tugs lightly, just how you like it. His definition of “making love” wasn't some sappy vanilla sex, filled with loving words. To him it was whatever made you happy and whatever made you cum. You don't really mind him pulling your fresh braids—you kind of enjoy it, and he knows you do.

"you love when I fuck you like this, pulling your hair so you can feel that sting." You nod your head as he slowly picks up speed.

He grabs your hair harder, causing a yelp as he pulls you up so your back is to his chest. His other hand lightly grabs your throat, turning your head so your lips meet his. you moan into his mouth, hand reaching back to tangle in his hair.

"I love these braids, baby, and I got to pay for them. It makes me feel good."

Each thrust bounces your body. Your moans get higher as you approach your climax, and you pulse around him.

You let go with his name on your lips, and your body collapses into the mattress, back arched and perfect for him. He doesn't stop, thrusts getting messier as he chases his high.

"close, baby."

"Inside, baby. please" you struggle out between breaths.

his breathing stops for a second, and the next he's spilling himself into your cunt, deep and utterly full. His breathing is erratic as he slowly recovers. You feel a finger against your back, his hands faintly move across the arch of your spine, smiling to himself.

You rolled onto your back, out of breath and tired.

“Sorry, love. Let me get a towel,” he skipped over to the bathroom with a huge smile. He cleans you up and you both drift off to sleep, bodies close and wrapped up in each other.

❀⊱┄┄┄┄⊰❀

You try to enjoy the rest of your trip, not talking about what happened that night or what it meant. Nothing else happened on the trip, but the tension definitely was still thick. You didn't think either one of you would bring it up—that is until the flight back to Seoul. you had the same private flight, the same bed.

Han speaks up first,”So the sex? What does that mean? we can't just pretend it didn't happen,” he says once he's sure no one will hear him.

“I don't know, ji. I just didn't feel seen in our relationship, and I don't know if I can deal with my personal insecurities.”

He takes your hand. His eyes met yours, full of the love he'd always had for you. “I want to change for you, I really do. I'll be better for you. I'll notice when something is wrong, when you're not in the mood, and I won't push it—any of it. And I won't push you away. trust me.”

You pull your hand back, and use it to cup his cheek. Your voice comes out steady, “I want to believe that—so so bad, so make me believe that. please.”

He leans into you, briefly connecting your lips. You guys cuddle the rest of the flight.

When you land, he buys you a coffee, carries your luggage and packs it into the Uber for you. Once at your apartment, he helps you get your luggage inside, and offers his company for a few hours— which was ruined by Chan needing him to practice. He leaves you with a hug, not too flirty—but the kind that makes you wonder if he's worth all of it. He still hadn't asked you to be his girlfriend again, and it gave you relief. You weren't rushing a relationship again, and took the pace that felt right.

Eventually you warm up, the guys start to tease about a "comeback" between you two happening. You both insist on taking things slow instead of rushing to fix what's broken. Jisung looks happier—less stressed,and he feels that way too, everyone can tell. You two didn't just start over, you accepted your past, accepted your flaws, and changed them. Because when you really want to be with someone, a bad habit can be gone twice as fast.

A/N: if you made it this far and you enjoyed please like comment and repost🙏🏾🙏🏾. love you guys

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 6 hours ago

Text

Hello, Mr. Monster 9 Teaser

Summary: Eros and Psyche inspired Soulmate!AU, Morpheus x female OC/reader

Master list

A/N: I'M BACK! I've gotten a lot questions about whether or not I'm continuing my various Sandman fics, so I figured actions speak louder than words. Enjoy the first scene of the next chapter (still in development and not entirely edited)! @cherry1a, your timing is impeccable. Chapter warnings: graphic violence, threatening children, murder, quasi-cannibalism, referenced child harm, identity theft?

Chapter 9 Teaser

The Corinthian whistled, hands in his pockets as he strolled up the gravel drive.

Each step a little too loud.

Each note a little too sharp.

It made him smile. Three times over.

He’d chosen a beautiful day for the visit, and he thanked the digital age’s obsession with poorly-protected records as he followed the only set of tire tracks through the little forest. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and he had both Bright Eyes’ homes gathered on one neat little plot.

When she first bought that van, she’d thrown him off. He could admit that. But he wasn’t really pursuing her. Just keeping tabs. And when he caught up and spied her license plate, he tied an invisible bell to a bit of fishing line – in other words, he found a clever human who slipped through the BMV’s firewall to replace a few little contact details.

He’d finally gotten the call, and he gladly handled the fees on the owner’s behalf. He even arranged for the vehicle to come back to her property.

A fog of dust gathered around his ankles as the tow-truck passed him, and he nodded, giving the men inside a friendly wave as they rolled on by. They waved back, thinking him a great friend or a kind neighbor. Hell, they may even think he was family.

Well, he was the closet thing to family one Aisling Hunt had left, and he had a glut of their memories to cherish of little Aisling coloring strange pictures and making friends with the air. He liked to think he knew her better than they had, though.

He felt like the Big Bad Wolf as the little house came into view. Stranger danger and the devil she knew at the same time.

He’d always gotten a certain sense of satisfaction when he made a dent in her world. Like watching ripples remind the pond he’d hit it with a rock, spreading and growing until the memory became part of a fresh, mirror glaze, ready to break all over again.

The van sat out front, towed and delivered after being abandoned at a rest area many miles away. His fingernail dragged over the faded paint, dipping into fresh dents and scratches left by one bad, bad deer. The nightmare had gotten close again. He bet that had been a show. Poor car lost a window and everything.

Maybe he’d cut open the plastic and climb inside. See how she’d been keeping herself. But he should really stop and say hello to the old place first.

It had been a while.

His mouth watered as he remembered, as he pushed open the unlocked door and looked straight down the narrow hall to the back bedroom. The old carpet was gone but not properly replaced. Mismatched rugs and shower mats covered the bare tacks and padding.

They must not’ve been able to get all the blood out. He licked his teeth.

“Guess I really did make a mess.”

He could taste it like it was yesterday.

The sand had first pulled him to the remote home as growling fears ached in his belly. He imagined his maker free, his master pressing against the cracks in his cage and back into his power. The Corinthian came ready for a fight. Whatever threatened his freedom would die – if it could.

The man and woman inside died very easily. But the sand’s summons still itched in his marrow. Determined not to walk into a trap blindly – because what else could this be? – he paused to eat the eyes. They crunched nicely, bleeding experiences and views that nourished the soul Dream had never bestowed.

That was the first time he met Aisling. As a heavy weight in her mother’s belly, a squalling infant that laughed at nothing, a girl obsessed with books and adventures and a host of imaginary friends. He savored her father’s pride and fears as she learned to ride a bicycle, climbed high trees, and stopped to ask before petting strangers’ dogs in the park.

Their confusion coated his tongue, their horror as their child changed overnight. Fearful. Crying from pain no x-ray or MRI could diagnose.

They’d run away. They’d taken their child and fled the city, unaware they were being hunted.

Ironic about the name, really.

As he’d shuddered back into the present, high on his feast with blood dribbling down his cheeks, he’d found himself drawn to the last door, where the sand throbbed with strange, new power. His master’s, but not. As a dream himself, he’d never perfectly understood the human experience as they slept, always on the opposite side, the one in control. Drifting forward, almost without meaning to, he thought he might almost understand. And he wasn’t sure he liked it.

He'd shaken his head, casting off the discomfort and doubts.

It didn’t matter. He’d finish the set and chew everything clear in a moment.

Finding his old friend, the thing under the bed, trying to hide his prey came as a surprise, but he’d always been stronger, and he dragged the child out from the flimsy shelter effortlessly. He hauled his prize to the corridor, determined to get a good look at the problem before he solved it.

Her screams fell on deaf ears when she saw the mangled remains of her parents. Mother’s throat slit. Father’s chest gouged open. Both eyeless. Lifeless. She’d seen horror, but it was the first time she’d really seen death.

But the Corinthian couldn’t stop staring. The sand was the least interesting thing about the girl. Her torn mortality. The name written and carved over on her soul.

It was so terribly wrong that it was perfect.

His master’s greatest desire finally came into the world, and he would likely never know. She’d be dead and gone by the time the Endless found a way out of his cage. If he ever did. And his sand, the one part of him that could reach her, was summoning his creations to tear her apart.

The Corinthian grinned, laughed, accidentally shook the girl until she fell silent, staring at him with the most wonderful eyes. True sight. Because of course Dream’s mirrored equal would be a born troublemaker. Willing or not. Destiny was almost as much of a bitch as his little brother.

He traced her lashes with the tip of his knife and crooned, “Hey there, Bright Eyes.”

The family’s blood marked the blade’s path, and he found he couldn’t help himself. He dragged it along her face, painting each tear track red until she looked just like him, sated from a little casual destruction.

The more he peered into those bright eyes, the more he wanted to see what she’d do with them. Killing her to spite Dream wouldn’t taste like anything but wasted promise. After all, how much would it really hurt the Dream King to lose her without knowing she existed?

She was already more his than Dream’s.

And she already had something sharp inside, deep, deep down under the glittery nails and pretty nightgown. Something that could do real damage. The Corinthian could appreciate a good blade. Especially one that bled.

He let her go and sat back on his heels, grinning at her like they were friends as she vibrated with shock and outsized emotions. What must he look like to her, with her true sight and sand-infected soul?

“You know,” he said. “There are a lot of monsters coming to find you right now.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “I’m not scared of monsters.”

“I figured. I saw my friend under your bed.”

She nodded, clearly understanding they were both nightmares. Clever kid.

“But I’m not that kind of monster.” He dropped to one knee so he could lean in close and whisper in her ear. “I’m the bad kind. You know what’s written inside? On your heart? It’s a name. Have you heard it?”

This time she hesitated, eyes flashing with fear. But she nodded eventually, and the Corinthian was delighted.

“Well, I’m his favorite,” he drawled. “I’m his masterpiece.”

More tears rushed down her face, spreading the blood into a pink wash as sobs rattled her tiny body.

“You should be glad it’s just you and me, Bright Eyes. Because, you know…” Slowly, he raised his hand, slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, and winked. “I’m not half the monster he is.”

The girl was alive with trapped energy, desperate to run, or scream, or fight. It turned the air electric with potential. He’d have to give her something to do with it.

There really were other nightmares on their way. They’d nipped at his heels all the way to her front door. She’d have to prove she really was sharp enough to survive.

With a pat on the head, he sent her on her way.

“You better run now.”

And she did. She ran into the path of the Not Deer and the Hungry Ghost and a dozen other dreams freed to follow their worst impulses.

Coming back to the present, he sighed, goosebumps rolling down his arms.

Dream must already have her. She wouldn’t abandon her home away from home if he hadn’t snatched her away. It was only a matter of time before she came back, though, before Dream showed his true colors and the Corinthian got to see how much wyrd could make an Endless bleed.

But she wasn’t back yet, and he really would like to get in touch.

His eyes swept the empty home, returning again to the unpatched wound in the floor, and he chuckled.

“I’ll just have to leave a note.”

#fic: hello mr. monster #morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #sandman x reader #sandman x oc #sandman fic #sandman fanfiction #corinthian x reader

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