#I hate this I hate this I hate this I hate this. I’m in fucking purgatory until Thursday just waiting for symptoms to show up

[pastelsav]

my maladaptive WET dream 🤭 if you will

[cygnus-is-tired]

I went to a flea market/antique shop today and I found, what I believe to be, the best worst thing ever in the history of instruments

Here she is in all her glory, the steampunk violin

She’s completely functional but does not come with a bow

[punkitt-is-here]

at this point you shld start formatting your posts like

[actual post] [extremely long and thorough list of what this post does not, in fact, say]

like this

i like pancakes

this post does not mean i hate waffles, nor does it mean i think liking pancakes is the correct viewpoint. you are not inherently evil for disliking pancakes. i am not saying anyone with a gluten allergy should be forced to eat pancakes. i am also not saying that i’m better than people who are starving because i can eat pancakes. i am not suggesting that you can’t like both pancakes and waffles, nor am i saying i hate crepes

LMAO it's fucking tempting every time

[my-castles-crumbling]

detective - jegulus - @black-brothers-microfic - word count: 287

It was too early. That was James’s first thought as he registered the incessant ringing of his phone. But his second thought was that someone must be dying if Sirius was calling him at nine in the morning on a Saturday.

“Hello?” he asked blearily, picking up the phone and almost talking into it upside-down.

“James? Have you seen Reg?” Sirius demanded as soon as the line connected, sounding very concerned.

Looking to his right, James hesitated. The man in question was just starting to awaken, curly hair half in his eyes, adorably grumpy expression making it clear he wanted to kill his brother for waking them both up. However, when Regulus seemed to figure out what was going on, his expression changed from perturbed to horrified, eyes widening as he shook his head in warning. Very firmly, he mouthed, ‘I’m not here!’

“Erm…no,” James said, wincing. He hated lying to Sirius. “I’m assuming he’s at his own flat. Why? Is everything okay?”

Sirius paused before sighing with relief. “I just…I took his hair dryer with me to Moony’s. You know, the really nice one Barty gave him? And this morning, I broke it, and-”

“Sirius, what the fuck?” Regulus burst out, face red with rage.

However, this was the absolute wrong reaction.

“AHA!” Sirius exclaimed, sounding like an old-time detective, yelling so loudly he could be heard even as James pulled the phone away from his ear. “I knew you were hiding with James! It’s time for brother bonding, so get out here in ten minutes or I will break your hair dryer!”

And, as the line clicked, Regulus groaned, falling back into bed. “I’d like to be an only child,” he mumbled into the pillow.

[voidoffline]

Wait so… because of toxic masculinity some men are - for some reason leaving jobs and becoming housewives.

Sooo… is the era of malewives upon us?

Why aren't we talking about the real reason male college enrollment is dropping? (Celeste Davis, Oct 6 2024)

"White flight is a term that describes how white people move out of neighborhoods when more people of color move in.

White flight is especially common when minority populations become the majority. That neighborhood then declines in value.

Male flight describes a similar phenomenon when large numbers of females enter a profession, group, hobby or industry—the men leave. That industry is then devalued.

Take veterinary school for example:

In 1969 almost all veterinary students were male at 89%.

By 1987, male enrollment was equal to female at 50%.

By 2009, male enrollment in veterinary schools had plummeted to 22.4%

A sociologist studying gender in veterinary schools, Dr. Anne Lincoln says that in an attempt to describe this drastic drop in male enrollment, many keep pointing to financial reasons like the debt-to-income ratio or the high cost of schooling.

But Lincoln’s research found that “men and women are equally affected by tuition and salaries.”

Her research shows that the reason fewer men are enrolling in veterinary school boils down to one factor: the number of women in the classroom.

For every 1% increase in the proportion of women in the student body, 1.7 fewer men applied.

One more woman applying was a greater deterrent than $1000 in extra tuition! (…)

Since males had dominated these professions for centuries, you would think they would leave slowly, hesitantly or maybe linger at 40%, 35%, 30%, but that’s not what happens.

Once the tipping point reaches majority female- the men flee. And boy do they flee!

It’s a slippery slope. When the number of women hits 60% the men who are there make a swift exit and other men stop joining.

Morty Schapiro, economist and former president of Northwestern University has noticed this trend when studying college enrollment numbers across universities:

“There’s a cliff you fall off once you become 60/40 female/male. It then becomes exponentially more difficult to recruit men.”

Now we’ve reached that 60% point of no return for colleges.

As we’ve seen with teachers, nurses and interior design, once an institution is majority female, the public perception of its value plummets.

Scanning through Reddit and Quora threads, many men seem to be in agreement - college is stupid and unnecessary.

A waste of time and money. You’re much better off going into the trades, a tech boot camp or becoming an entrepreneur. No need for college. (…)

When mostly men went to college? Prestigious. Aspirational. Important.

Now that mostly women go to college? Unnecessary. De-valued. A bad choice. (…)

School is now feminine. College is feminine. And rule #1 if you want to safely navigate this world as a man? Avoid the feminine.

But we don’t seem to want to talk about that."

[bunabi]

Imma be real: I was hoping folks' takeaway from the DAV art book would be reassurance that people cared a lot about making DA4 a faithful follow-up and not 'they hate us look at all the content they cut' 🫠

There is no cut content. Brother if there was a single-player build ready to roll I don't think they would have chosen to work off the live service build. Someone saw all of these cool ideas and the team that won Game of the Year at the 2014 VGAs and said "fuck no" at the pre-production phase. That's the tragedy. And we've known about this since 2019:

"Perhaps the saddest thing about Dragon Age 4’s cancellation in 2017 for members of the Dragon Age team was that this time, they thought they were getting it right." (...) “We were working towards something very cool, a hugely reactive game, smaller in scope than Dragon Age: Inquisition but much larger in player choice, followers, reactivity, and depth,” one source told Schreier. “I’m sad that game will never get made.” [x]

Please for the love of god make an effort to appreciate DAV for what it is. Its a fun game. But if even the people involved wish things panned out differently fans are absolutely allowed to mourn too. And if you fight them ☝🏿 you will be fighting me.

[joyousjunelynne08]

i need someone to tell my boy that :(((((

[cheetabites]

☆彡 cinnamon pt 2 ˳༄꠶

character: kang dae-ho (player 388)

˳༄꠶ summary: five sfw and nsfw general headcannons for dae-ho

sfw headcannons

★ he’s a man that knows how to dress himself well. in korea, the importance on appearance is a reinforced by society so lots of people dress good, but i’m telling you that he knows how to keep up appearances - even if his clothes remain casual, all his outfits look good on him; he mainly wears black high waisted dress pants w/ wide pant legs paired with a loose fitting shirt & a cardigan or an oversized hoodie w/ cargo pants

★ he has a sad playlist that he jams out to regularly; even if nothing bad happened. he could be doing the most mundane task - like walking down the streets of korea - and one of the most heartbreaking songs would be blasting out of his earphones

★ he hates needles, and i mean he hates them. sure, he got a tattoo, but if he has to do anything like getting his blood drawn he’ll bolt it out of there - unless you’re there and you hold his hand

★ he’s one of those people that keeps all their app tabs open on their phone. and probably barely has any storage space because of the amount of pictures he has of you and other things; he doesn’t want to delete them because he thinks he’ll forget the moment

★ he’s big on physical touch. there isn’t a moment where he can go on without holding your hand or wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind. it’s also normal for him to place tiny kisses on your face whenever the opportunity arises

nsfw headcannons

★ loves to tell you how beautiful you are when you please each other. your hair could be messy and sticking to your face, or you’re sweating profusely, but it doesn’t matter. he never wants to think your any less than beautiful

★ he really likes when you ride him; especially when he’s just laying flat - no hands on you or anything - on the bed and you lay your palms flat on his shoulders for support

★ the idea of you just using him for pleasure really gets him off - like if you were stressed and needed to blow of steam so you decide to pin him down and be a little bit mean and condescending while you please him; he usually cries when you guys fuck like that, but it’s always out of pleasure

★ he wouldn’t want to have sex anywhere besides the bedroom. i feel like both of you tried it once in a more public place - like maybe one of your guys’ cars or in a hotel room - but it turned him off so bad that you both agreed to not try that again

★ he’s all for waking you up by eating you out (consensual somnophilia); hearing you gasp as you awake and having you card your fingers through his hair to tug on it, it’s one of the best sights he’d ever witnessed. he usually does this on the days he has to work cause he loves riling you up, but he always makes sure to clean you up before he leaves

the end! i hope you enjoyed <3!

[thebroccolination]

GMMTV ISN’T CONTRACTUALLY FORCING THEIR ACTORS INTO THE CLOSET

Recently, I saw a fan from the U.S. claiming on TikTok that GMMTV contractually forces their queer actors to keep their sexual identities a secret. Why else would there be so few openly queer actors???

So, first of all, it’s not like the few openly queer actors in GMMTV had to break some corporate closet door to escape, and then GMMTV went, “Aw, shucks. Well, I guess y’all win. We’ll keep paying you, you little rainbowy scamps.” There are only a few of them because being openly queer in Thailand’s media industry is still fucking hard.

Fluke Natouch of Until We Meet Again (and OhmFluke 1.0) fame left his agency years ago to work freelance so he could navigate his career on his own terms. When openly gay director New of Studio Wabi Sabi approached him to offer the role of Pharm, Fluke very actually asked New if he was sure he wanted an openly gay actor in his series. This was a conversation that two openly gay men had! No sexualities whatsoever were hidden in the having of this conversation! Or in the public recounting of it later!

Fluke asked New this because there are still roadblocks for openly queer actors, and as a freelancer, he knew this. Some sponsors are hesitant to have a queer face on their commercials, and some of the industry’s upper management are old bigoted guys holding the purse strings. Why do you think so many of these guys have to appear straight-presenting?

Interfans contribute to the glorification of heteronormativity, too. How many times have I seen interfans lusting over the KinnPorsche actors as “real men” or excusing Joss’s myriad issues over the years because he’s “so hot”?

How many femme actors are given roles with complexity? How many are shunted into comedic roles or tragic figures? How many interfans point at Pharm and complain that He Cries Too Much? You’ve all seen it. “P’DEEEEEAN.”

Regardless of what interfans claim to want, the series that tend to do best nowadays feature straight-presenting actors. Bad Buddy, 2gether, My School President, KinnPorsche, etc.

Ironically, the series that lean hard on queer themes tend not to do as well.

So you can see why most choose to keep at least a veneer of heterosexuality or else keep the glass closet door closed.

New cast Fluke and Cooheart in Until We Meet Again because Studio Wabi Sabi was both agency and production company owned by New, and New could do whatever he wanted. SWS was very much a safe haven for queer actors of all levels of openness.

And regardless of my complaints about New’s directing and perpetual insistence that he do all the editing and sound design himself (stop, man, I’m begging you, learn how to delegate), he has been working for years to create a welcoming space for queer actors in an industry that is still extremely cautious, and I’ll always respect him for that.

As much as people love to hate a corporate body, GMMTV’s myriad flaws are more based in the categories of “terrible organization” and “poor management” and “haphazardly throwing a thousand medicore, half-baked projects at a wall until one of them sticks by chance and then celebrating that surprise hit into the ground”—not “forcing their actors into the closet.”

As far as I’m aware, the only khuujin (“imaginary couple”) in the industry who’s Openly Dating is PorscheArm, and they were already out and together before the fame, so they’re more Public Figures Advocating for Social Progress than they are BL actors. I’d say ZeeNuNew are borderline, because while they seem increasingly more cavalier with their subtlety, even they’ve been excruciatingly careful in their labeling over the past few years. (“Are you a couple?” “You could call us that.”)

And there’s a reason for the caution. Things are changing for the better, but progress is slow.

In an early, post-SOTUS interview from 2016, infant actors KristSingto were point-blank asked by TV hosts if they’re “normal” with a heavy insinuation that they’d be mocked and laughed at unless they asserted their heterosexuality in front of a live audience. Not exactly a warm and kind environment to say, “Actually…” As the first in the line of fire, KristSingto were constantly bombarded with invasive questions and suspicion and homophobia, and it’s only been nine years since SOTUS aired.

Now, you’ve got the evolution of hosts making lewd innuendos at khuujin and trying to “trick” them into Coming Out for content. Yet, all the khuujin seem to know how to play the game Juuuust Right to avoid saying anything concrete and damning, leaving just enough crumbs for fans to pick up on and enjoy.

Because look how the few openly queer actors are treated. Bruce Sirikorn Kananurak’s best-known role is framed villain Aey in Lovely Writer, and Gun Korawit Boonsri is regularly cast as Sassy Gay Side Character. Cooheart gets variety in his roles, but he’s with Studio Wabi Sabi under New, an openly gay CEO who famously allows his actors a ton of freedom in their image. And it says a lot to me that Cooheart didn’t make the move over to GMMTV along with his colleagues last year.

So, y’know, of course I’m not saying GMMTV is paradise. While he was with SWS, Boun said he wanted to get tattoos but New advised him against it because it might have limited potential roles. So New didn’t forbid it, he just cautioned Boun against doing it. Meanwhile, he implied recently that he’d like to dye his hair blond again, but GMMTV has to approve things like that. Hence, you’ll hear about some GMMTV actors who just get a tattoo done or cut their hair without telling anyone and then they show up for work with an insouciant shrug; the beg forgiveness>>>ask permission move.

So GMMTV does have some stupid public image rules, and they have also discouraged certain actors from interacting with each other in case it drives their profit margins down (see: The Chronicles of Management Driving KristGun Apart—I’m making a post about it, don’t worry). And I’m sure the Grammy Powers That Be go ://// if a GMMTV actor says, “Hey, I’m thinking of telling the world I’m bisexual tomorrow,” and go, “Maybe don’t though.” It’s just not something they’re Contractually Obligated to hide; it’s more common sense.

Like I said, GMMTV’s real crimes in my eyes are things like 1) repeatedly trying to push men like Foei and Joss who’ve proven themselves to be toxic nightmares to women and queer people over and over throughout the years, 2) overworking their most popular actors to physical and mental exhaustion, 3) barely promoting their GL productions despite their obvious popularity, 4) shoving their Not Singers onstage with zero vocal training, 5) prioritizing trends over quality, 6) having Zero Plan of what to do Most of the Time, 7) hiring on more and more actors without hiring enough managers to support them, and more.

There’s no “you gotta be Heterosexual-Presenting or else” clause in their contracts. They’re just actors in a conservative Asian country where marriage equality has only recently been recognized, and that’s not even close to having social equality. Plenty of western actors don’t want the extra baggage of being Openly Queer (see the Kit Connor debacle), let alone in a country controlled by military and monarchy.

Thailand isn’t a queer paradise.

Hell, look at Japan: they invented BL and GL and their government isn’t even close to recognizing marriage equality. To the majority of Japanese people, BL and GL are embarrassing subgenres that “Normal People” (ie: what heterosexuals are called in Japan—yes I’m serious) would never publicly admit to enjoying. I know this because I was a Queer Foreigner in Japan for eleven years and my whole existence was weird.

As far as I’ve heard from friends who work with GMMTV, it’s a far more progressive company than many interfans give it credit for. Many of the staff are openly queer, a ton of their directors are openly queer, and their actors who are queer are either open with the understanding that there are limitations to that choice or closeted to protect their job opportunities. Once you’re Openly Queer, you’re pushed into a very different and much smaller box, and they all know it.

So y’know. GMMTV actors aren’t All Straight, and the ones who are queer aren’t Closeted by Force. GMMTV is just a company of people with a wide tapestry of nuance, just like you’d expect from any large organization of artistic and business folk producing queer media for a general audience.

In 2025, let’s please abandon the myth that GMMTV is an evil kpop company. <3

It’s a sloppy, poorly run nightmare factory. :D

EDIT: Also, director X confirmed on Twitter last year that GMMTV has no anti-dating policy.

[pinkpastelcalesti]

It’s so hard to explain to people how rude Atrium health in NC is. They are absolutely fucking ruthless and I hate them for everything they’re worth.

Let me talk a little bit about it.

TW: family loss, death, grief, cancer, discussion of end of life care and hospice, mentions of prior family loss by suicide.

My grandma, one of the most important women and family in my life, passed from Mesothelioma back in April 2022. She received a lot of treatment of which she’d paid off herself, except for around ~6k in expenses for end of life care (hospice/at home nursing).

She was diagnosed in November 2021, and my mom quit her job to take care of her and be there for her as it was her only parent still alive at the time; my grandfather had committed suicide back in 2014. This was already hard enough for my mom but seeing her mom sick, after what she had already been through with her dad, on top of other personal matters, was a lot. It was tough. She cried so much.

She only had her mom and her sister, plus her sister’s family left. Alongside her father passing, my mom had lost her eldest sister in January 2019 from stage 4 breast cancer.

My mom and aunt were there with my grandma in her final hours. Her death was peaceful, with music, scripture being read (my grandmother was Christian; a person of the church), soft lighting, everything. She passed in her home, surrounded by the people she loved, because she asked to have it that way. My grandma hated hospitals. It brought back too many memories she didn’t want to remind herself of.

My mom still grieves her endlessly. She loved her mother with everything she had in her.

I loved that woman endlessly. I can’t even begin to describe how wonderful knowing her all my life until the moment she passed was.

I’m building this context up so anyone reading can understand the pain and grief that comes with such a loss.

After calling hospice and having to witness her mother be placed in a body bag, already traumatized enough, my mother came home at 3 am and all but passed out in the quiet; we had only grieved for hours at this point.

In the morning, amidst my mother’s anguish of losing her mom, do you want to know who called us?

Was it my extended family? No.

Was it a family friend? No.

It was atrium health. It was fucking atrium health.

They called my mother, who had not even had a day to process her emotions, and asked her if my grandmother would be paying her remaining medical bills. Six thousand dollars. Not 25 thousand, or 100 thousand. No. Six thousand dollars. And they called my mom as if they needed that money right then and there.

My mother’s response was a heartbroken sigh of, “my mother died at 11 pm last night. You’re calling me about her medical bills and she hasn’t even been gone one day.”

They had in fact placed a lien on my grandmother’s house to receive that last payment when they sold the home a few months after her passing.

Luigi Mangione is the people’s hero. Let it all burn. They do not care if we live or die, suffer or go peacefully, fight or give up. They don’t care.

Sincerely, fuck US healthcare.

Such timing.

Goes to show the insurance companies don't need the money.

[p0ckykiss]

dream - lee haechan

summary -> kissing you feels like a dream to haechan

-> fluff, a lot of kissing

“haechan,” you murmured, “c’mon, I gotta go back to work.”

he ignored you, obviously.

sure, the back room of the video store wasn’t the most romantic place to make out, but you kept letting him in here, so he wasn’t going to stop coming. you were against a shelf, haechan's hands on your waist under your shirt, letting him kiss you silly despite your protests that you were employed. your hands had been travelling over haechan's shoulders and chest and neck for the last twenty minutes, but they were still now, your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his neck. haechan pulled back, though only enough to be able to speak.

“you can kick me out whenever you want, you know,” he grinned. “you like to make it very clear you work here"

“yeah,” you said, “and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“then tell me to go.” it was a challenge, it was always a challenge. you had gone through the challenge every other time you'd been back there, and one look at the scoreboard showed that haechan was winning by a mile. he added another point to his side when you leaned back in, humming into his mouth.

kissing you was a dream.

it was a weird dream, the kind that seemed normal when you were having it, but once you woke up, you realized how fucked up dream logic is. it was fucked up, in a way, that he was kissing you, and that he was doing so so frequently.

the crush had developed sophomore year, and it had been a gnawing thing, eating away at haechan every time he’d seen you in the halls. maybe it would’ve been easier to deal with had it been anyone but you. it was supposed to fade. it was supposed to mean nothing. haechan was supposed to hate everything about you, but maybe that’s what made it so exhilarating. instead, everything about you, made haechan feel fuzzy around the edges.

he never wanted to wake up.

you cupped a hand on haechan's cheek, pulling him closer. haechan could do nothing but smile against you. he tried to keep kissing you, he really did, but the bubbling in his chest was starting to get overpowering. he pressed his forehead against yours, while you were opening your eyes. those eyes — your stupid, pretty, fucking eyes — were going to be the death of him.

haechan opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a laugh.

“what?” you asked, your own smile growing.

“nothing, nothing. just…” he paused, taking in your features, copying them down to memory in his head. “god, y/n, I’m just—” he kissed you again, softly, purposefully — “i’m fucking obsessed with you, you know that?”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’re obsessed with me?”

“i can’t get you out of my head, like, ever.”

“well, it’s a good thing I’m kind of obsessed with you too.”

maybe it was the way the corner of your mouth quirked when you said it, or the enticing look in your eyes, or just the fact that it was you, but haechan's legs were turning to jello-o, and he wasn’t sure he could support himself like this much longer.

you both laughed as you kissed, pressing against each other like the only way you could get any closer was by crawling into each other’s chests. haechan's mouth found its way to behind your ear, which resulted in a laugh from you loud enough to make haechan shush you before you fell into another fit of giggles. when your lips met again, your hands found haechan's; your fingers intertwined, and every squeeze of your hands pushed haechan's heart closer and closer to bursting.

you only stopped when there was a knock on the door, but even then, haechan distracted himself with kissing you.

“are you guys done in there yet?” your co-worker called from behind the door. “i can’t do everything out here by myself.”

you looked at haechan, who looked back at you. he knew your time was up for now, but there was no harm in trying to convince you to ignore your colleague. and let you both have another five or ten or twenty minutes alone.

“i gotta go back to work,” you said softly, an apology stuffed inside.

haechan continued kissing at your jaw. “can you come to my place tonight?” he asked, like there was even a possibility of you saying no.

you grinned. “and what would we be doing at your place?”

lowering his voice further, haechan pressed his nose into your cheek. “guess you’ll have to come over and find out.”

there was another knock at the door. “hello? I can hear you guys,” she groaned.

“better get out there before she drags your ass out,” haechan said.

“and whose fault would that be?”

“watch yourself, y/n,” he teased, “or you won’t need to wait to get to my place later.”

“i can’t even look her in the eye after this,” you told him.

with one last kiss, haechan patted you on the shoulders. “go on, then, baby”

“you’re going to kill me one day.”

“can’t wait.”

you opened the door. your co-worker stood there with her arms crossed.

“hey, haha,” you tried.

all she said was, “you guys are so gross.”

while you seemed to be letting your soul leave your body out of embarrassment, haechan just grinned, walking past both of you. “my uncle leaves for work at eight tonight, by the way,” he said, leaning against the counter. the only thing that rivalled kissing, in haechan's mind, was pushing all of your buttons simultaneously and seeing how long it took for you to explode.

“yep,” you said, still flustered, “got it.” haechan added another point to his side.

“again,” said your colleague. she stood on the other side of the counter, across from haechan. “gross.”

to him, she said, “if you keep making me work alone, I will ban you from coming in here. you’re lucky it's a slow day.”

“oh, come on,” haechan mused, “you love me.”

“enough to let you and y/n suck face in the back room, apparently,” she said, bumping him with her elbow.

“and for that, I’m grateful.”

[vladtoly]

Close Call

Dae-Ho x Female!Reader

Requested: Yes

Proofread: No

Word Count: 690

A/N: I need to preface this by saying I really loved Thanos' character and I simply portrayed him this way for the blurb. No hate for him, I swear! Also I did struggle a bit making Dae-ho the jealous type, so he may come off more protective than anything. Hope it's still good, thank you for requesting!

As the second game came to a close, you sat anxiously on your bunk, watching the entrance doors. Your boyfriend had been on a different team, though not by his own choice. Originally, you had been with his group, but when player 222 had come to them, revealing she was pregnant? You immediately gave up your spot. Dae-ho looked like he wanted to object and offer to leave instead, but you silence him with a simple side eye. Whatever group you were in, you’d assumed you would be fine, or at least hoped. And you were.

Now you were just worried about him.

“Senorita, excuse me. Mind if I join?”

You sighed as a weight landed on your mattress, the voice not waiting for your answer. Just a glance at your side revealed it to be Thanos. You hadn’t even been in his group, just sitting in the one behind his- but that didn’t stop him from turning around and dropping pick up lines constantly. It had almost been a relief when it was your group’s turn.

Shifting away, you kept your eyes on the entrance. “I do, actually, thanks.”

The man ignored your answer and made himself comfortable, man spreading and propping his arms behind him on the mattress. He seemed to know how to make any space crowded, all on his own.

“Don’t know why you’re looking at the door. All you need is right here,” he purred out, leaning his head closer to you.

“I’m waiting on my boyfriend. You can leave.” Your reply was short and sharp, hoping maybe obvious disinterest would make him leave. But you also doubted it.

The weight moved closer, and as soon as you felt a hand on your arm, your head finally snapped to look at him. “Do you know what ‘leave’ means?”

His face split into a goofy grin, obviously high off one of the pills you saw him pop earlier. “Well, I finally got you to look at me, didn’t I?”

Before you could respond, a hand grabbed Thanos’ hoodie and dragged him off the bed. When the owner of the hand came into view, you were more relieved to see Dae-ho. He was alive. Thank God.

“Why were you touching her?” he nearly yelled, his attention directed at Thanos.

Oh, right. You almost forgot about him.

Thanos just laughed, shoving himself out of your boyfriend’s grip. He brushed himself off as you quickly went to Dae-ho’s side.

“She looked lonely. I was just trying to help, you know?” Thanos leaned closer. “When you finally drop dead, then I’ll really help her.”

“You fucking bas-“Your words were cut off as Dae-ho lands a hard blow to his cheek.

Hobbling back, Thanos tried to lunge forward only to have the rest of your group step in front of him, making a wall. Your eyes were trained on him until a gentle hand touched your cheek, directing you to look away. As you turned, your eyes met with soft brown ones, wide with worry. “Hey, are you okay? What happened, what did he do?”

The sound of your boyfriend’s voice grounded you. You shook your head, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Nothing, he didn’t get the chance.”

His shoulders finally relaxed, resting his forehead on yours. “God, remind me to never leave you alone again.”

“Dae-ho, he was more of an annoyance than anything. He’s been doing shit like that all day.” You sighed out.

He groaned, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. “Trust me, I noticed.”

The words sank in. A small smirk began to form on your face. “Were you watching us earlier?”

“Kind of impossible not to. I wanted to check on you, and he also happens to be the loudest guy here. Makes it hard not to notice.” His eyes remained on the ceiling as he spoke.

Chuckling softly, you gently moved him back to look at you. “I’m okay. I’m right here and okay. Thank you for looking out for me.”

A deep sigh left him as he placed a firm kiss to your forehead, mumbling against the skin, “Someone has to.”

---------------

Squid Game headcannon/blurb requests are OPEN!

[xannsin]

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐃 ᯓ★ 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐙

précis: you and nicholas fell apart, the two of you simply wanted different things. months later, you’re sure about wanting one thing in common.

a/n: hey! i’m back, i’m very sorry for my absence, i do have a ton of responsibilities and unfortunately took a lengthy break but i’m working on a ton of writes for all of you!

warning: +18, minors dni, penetrative sex, creampie, sexual praise, overstimulation, unprotected sex

enjoy!

The relationship between you and Nicholas is strained.

When you were together in your early twenties, it felt like everything was possible. Until it wasn’t. You wanted the whole picture: house, rings, maybe a kid someday. Nicholas? He wanted out. Out of your tiny apartment. Out of your careful plans. Out into the world where he could be whoever the hell he wanted. And he got it. That bastard climbed the ladder so fast it was dizzying.

The breakup wasn’t even dramatic. Just him sitting at the edge of the bed, running his stupid hands through his stupid messy hair, sighing like it physically hurt him to talk.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he’d said, his voice low but clear, like it had already been rehearsed.

You stared at him, dumbfounded, because what the actual fuck. “Do what?”

“Play house.” He looked up then, those half-lidded brown eyes unreadable, his jaw locked tight. “You deserve someone who… I don’t know. Gives a shit about marriage and brunch and—whatever. That’s not me.”

And that was it. He left you like that—angry, confused, and clutching onto your shared dreams like a sucker.

Months later, you were doing fine. Or fine enough. Until the call came. A sleek-sounding assistant from some hotel agency left a voicemail, sweetly confirming your reservation for the weekend. Which was hilarious because you didn’t make one.

Except you had. Well, Nicholas had. Back when you were together. It was supposed to be this grand romantic getaway, but he’d apparently forgotten to cancel it. You debated ignoring it. But curiosity is a real bitch, and the idea of lounging in a fancy-ass suite alone? Tempting.

You didn’t expect to see him there. Which is why, when the elevator doors opened to reveal Nicholas Chavez—tan skin, broad everything, and wearing a wrinkled t-shirt like it was designer—you screamed. Not in terror, but pure, unfiltered what the fuck.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you yelled, wide-eyed, already regretting every life choice that led you to this moment.

He stared at you like you were the weird one, his eyebrows lifting just a fraction. “What am I doing here? This was my plan!” His voice was still annoyingly calm, with that slight Cuban lilt that came out when he was caught off guard.

“Your plan?” You jabbed a finger at his chest—hard. “Your dumbass forgot to cancel this, so they called me!”

He blinked, slowly, because of course he was the kind of guy who could take a verbal beatdown without flinching. “Fuck,” he muttered finally, rubbing the back of his neck.

And just like that, the tension cracked. You both laughed, loud and stupid, because it was ridiculous. You hated him, but also… you didn’t. Because beneath the stoic, sarcastic exterior was the same guy who once wanted to take you here. Maybe just for a moment, you could remember that. Or maybe you’d just spend the weekend screaming at each other. Either way, it was already too late to back out.

The laughter died off, but the awkwardness lingered like a bad smell. You couldn’t quite figure out what to do next. Storm past him? Push him out of the elevator? Or just turn back and get the hell out of there? Nicholas stood there, leaning casually against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest like he had all the time in the world. His half-lidded eyes scanned your face—always calculating, always trying to figure out what move you were going to make before you even knew yourself.

“So,” he said finally, voice low and calm, “you gonna stand there all day, or are you coming in?”

You blinked. “Coming in? Are you serious right now?”

He shrugged, that lazy smirk creeping onto his annoyingly perfect face. “Look, I’m not going to fight you for the room. I forgot to cancel it. That’s on me. But if you’re here, you might as well enjoy it.”

“What a gentleman,” you muttered, brushing past him into the suite.

The place was ridiculous. Plush carpets, floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city that looked like it belonged in a movie. And the bed? Huge. Like, offensively huge. Of course Nicholas would have booked a place like this. He always had a knack for things that looked effortless but cost a fortune.

“You seriously came here alone?” you asked, turning to face him.

He was leaning against the kitchen counter now, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone. He wasn’t looking at you, just scrolling through his screen like he couldn’t be bothered. “Yeah. Why?”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Because this was supposed to be a romantic trip. What were you gonna do? Have a candlelit dinner for one?”

He finally looked up, his expression flat. “I don’t see the point in wasting a good reservation just because we broke up.”

“Jesus, Nick.” You shook your head, dropping your bag onto the nearest chair. “You’re unreal.”

“Thanks,” he said, deadpan, before tossing his phone onto the counter and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. “Want one?”

You glared at him. “What I want is to not be stuck in a luxury hotel suite with my ex-boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well,” he cracked the cap off his water and took a swig, “life’s full of disappointments.”

You hated him. You really did. Or at least you wanted to. But then he went and did that thing—where his voice softened, just a fraction, and his eyes, half-lidded and calm, gave you that unreadable look that always made your stomach flip.

“Look,” he said, leaning against the counter, his tone quieter now. “We can fight all weekend if you want. Or we can just… not. Your call.”

You wanted to fight. God, you wanted to yell at him, to drag up every shitty thing he ever did, every late-night argument, every time he’d brushed you off with that maddening stoicism. But standing there, looking at him—broad shoulders, messy hair, tired eyes—you realized you didn’t have the energy to.

“Fine,” you muttered. “Truce.”

“Truce,” he echoed, raising his water bottle in a mock toast.

The first few hours were… weird. You avoided each other, mostly. You hung out in the living room while he stayed in the bedroom, and for a while, it almost felt like you weren’t sharing the space at all. But, of course, that didn’t last.

It was late—almost midnight—when you wandered into the kitchen for a snack and found Nicholas sitting at the counter, scrolling through his phone again. He looked up when you walked in, his brown eyes sharp even in the low light.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

You shrugged, opening the fridge. “Too quiet.”

He chuckled softly—just a huff of air through his nose. “Ironic, coming from you.”

“Shut up,” you shot back, grabbing a bottle of wine and holding it up. “Want some?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Sure. Why not.”

You didn’t expect it, but the two of you ended up sitting on the floor of the suite, leaning against the couch, passing the bottle back and forth like a couple of college kids. And for the first time in months, it didn’t feel strained. It felt… easy.

“Do you ever think about it?” you asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

He turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. “Think about what?”

“Us,” you said, waving the bottle vaguely. “What happened. Why it went to shit.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at the floor, his jaw tightening. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I think about it.”

“And?”

He let out a long breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “And… I don’t know. Maybe I fucked up. Or maybe we just wanted different things.”

You frowned, staring at him. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

He met your gaze then, his brown eyes soft but guarded. “What do you want me to say? That I regret it? That I wish I’d stayed? I don’t know if I do. But I know I didn’t handle it right. And I know I hurt you. For what it’s worth… I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t much. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

The next few days unfolded like an awkward dance neither of you really wanted to be a part of, but here you were, stuck in this stupid hotel suite, both pretending it wasn’t all too familiar. The truce held, but it was fragile. There was an air of tension that lingered in every room, especially when the two of you were alone. Every glance was a little too long, every word a little too sharp, and yet neither of you could walk away from it. There was an undeniable pull, like the universe was mocking you for still being tied to each other in some way.

One night, after an uncomfortable dinner in the hotel’s overpriced restaurant, you found yourself back in the suite. Nicholas was sprawled on the couch, his arms thrown behind his head, casually flipping through channels like you didn’t just have a conversation that felt like two strangers trying to fill the empty space between them. You, on the other hand, were too wound up, pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city lights twinkled below, casting a faint glow that made the whole room feel surreal.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet if you keep pacing like that,” Nicholas muttered, not even looking at you. His voice was as disinterested as ever, but you could hear that hint of amusement in his tone, like he enjoyed getting under your skin.

You shot him a glance, your eyes narrowing. “I’m thinking, alright? Can’t I think without you making sarcastic comments?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, the sarcasm oozing from every word. “I’ll stop. Wouldn’t want to ruin your moment of clarity.”

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to snap back. Instead, you took a deep breath, walking to the other side of the room and standing still for a second. “Why are you here?” You asked it before you could stop yourself, and the question hung in the air, heavier than it should have been.

Nicholas didn’t flinch, just let out a sigh, his eyes flicking to you briefly. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he just stared at you like he was sizing you up. His lips twisted into that usual smirk, but this time it wasn’t quite as mocking. There was something else in it—something real, maybe even vulnerable, but he hid it behind his usual stoic expression.

“Why do you think I’m here?” His voice was quieter now, not the usual sarcasm laced with a challenge.

Your stomach flipped. You hated how easily he could do that to you—make you feel like he was reading you from the inside out, even when he said nothing. “I don’t know,” you muttered, crossing your arms, trying to look indifferent. “I guess I thought you didn’t give a shit about me anymore.”

Nicholas sat up then, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the TV. “I never said that.” His voice was low, serious, and when you looked at him again, he was closer. Closer than before, but it wasn’t an invitation to fight. It was something else.

“Look, we… we fucked this up, okay?” he said, his eyes softening just enough that you could see the regret hidden under that layer of arrogance. “I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but I didn’t want to lose you, either.”

You swallowed hard, unable to speak, because for all his quiet moments and sarcastic jabs, that admission hit you harder than you wanted it to. “Don’t,” you whispered, the words coming out hoarse. “Just don’t… make it worse.”

He was quiet for a long moment, and you both stood there, inches apart but still worlds away. Then, in a rare moment of self-awareness, Nicholas moved slowly, his hand reaching out as if to make sure you wouldn’t pull away.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t some sudden, passionate moment where everything exploded. No, it was slow, careful, as if he was waiting for you to pull back, to shove him away, to tell him to fuck off. But you didn’t. Instead, you stood there, letting his lips press softly against yours, a little tentative at first. His lips were warm, surprisingly soft, and for a second, you forgot how much you hated him. Or maybe you didn’t hate him. Maybe, in that moment, it was just two people who couldn’t figure it out, but still needed each other.

When he pulled away, it was barely an inch, his breath mingling with yours. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the softness of his hand still resting on your arm, the warmth of his body so close.

“Still mad at me?” he asked quietly, his voice rougher now, like the moment had undone something in him.

You didn’t answer immediately, just looked at him—his messy brown hair falling over his forehead, his sharp jawline, and those goddamn brown eyes that always seemed to see right through you. You wanted to hate him for making it so hard, for fucking up so many times. But you couldn’t. Not when he was here, looking at you like maybe he was finally seeing you for the first time in a long time.

“No,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But you’re still a fucking asshole.”

He smirked at that, and it felt like a little bit of the tension between you two broke, just enough to let you both breathe. “I’ll take it,” he said, leaning in again, but this time it was different. There was no hesitation. No more apologies. It was just you and him, in this stupid hotel room, with no answers but maybe something else—something neither of you could deny anymore.

And when his lips met yours again, it wasn’t slow this time. It wasn’t careful. It was urgent, real, like neither of you knew what the hell you were doing but were too tired to care anymore.

“This okay?” He murmured against your lips, his hands gently tangling in your hair. “Mhm,” You whine quietly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he picked you up. He carried you to that behemoth of a bed and set you down before getting on top of you, careful not to smush you. “You sure you’re okay with this.” He says, asking, but confirming with statement at the same time. You nod in response, and he gently continues, grabbing your jaw, moving your head upwards to pepper kisses on your neck.

Your body instinctively responds, your arms wrapping around him as you let out the softest, faintest moans at the sensations on your neck. You hear that familiar unzip of his jeans that you so desperately missed. You work at taking off yours, shimmying slightly out of your tight jeans before discarding the fabric onto the floor. You do the same with your blouse.

You watch as Nicholas was only in boxers, having already taken off his jeans and shirt. You could see the tent in his boxers, basically throbbing for escape from the tight fabric. You gently reach out, your hand hesitant, but it settled on the thick bulge. Nicholas’ body went taut, his hands steadying himself on both sides of your head. “You okay?” You whispered, your hands gently working his bulge. He just nodded quickly before swallowing thickly, his eyes closing as your hand went lower, cupping his clothed sac. He exhaled softly, his bottom lip twitching slightly with the effort of holding back a soft moan.

Your hand moved up, falling onto the hem of his boxers. You looked up at him, silently asking for permission. He opened his eyes before looking down at you through half-lidded eyes before nodding a soft yes.

You gently peel his boxers down, his dick jumping out and immediately slapping against your bare thigh. He looked down in between your bodies, and so did you. You hadn’t seen his bare body in a while. His length was really girthy, at least 10 inches long, veiny, mushroom-tipped, throbbing, and aching to be inside of you. His tip wept pre-cum, it needed its release. Well — he did.

He moved your panties to the side of your thigh with his thumb, looking down at your bare, leaking pussy. He looked up at you before slowly grinning, “You’re beautiful.” You shake your head modestly, “Sure.” He rolls his eyes at your humility, “Just accept the damn compliment.”

His thumb gently touched your little bundle of nerves, gently rubbing it in slow circled, eliciting a small whimper from you. He knew how to make you twitch. Whimper. Whine. Shake. Cum. Your legs trembled as he worked your clit with his fingers, his middle finger finding your neglected, small hole. “Feels like it shrunk. You haven’t had sex in a while, have you?”

“Not since you, no.” You muttered through strained breaths, and pleasured winces. “Mm.” He hummed softly, adding more pressure, but not enough. On purpose. You were whimpering needily, your whines being more pleading than they needed to. He spoke after a moment, “Don’t worry, gonna get what you want.”

“Eventually.”

You frowned slightly, but you were too breathless to protest. You whined as he pulled his hand away, but he tutted softly. “Patience, pretty girl.”

He reached down, his hand finding his throbbing cock. He pulled you closer to him with his other hand, comfortably settling himself in between your legs. “Comfy?” He asked, and you nodded in response. He slowly stroked his tip along your slit, eliciting a gasp from you. He did that almost-grin, half-lidded eye combination that made your stomach flutter. He kept his dick positioned correctly with his right hand, and he was gently holding you down, steadying you, with his left. “I’m gonna start slow.” He muttered breathily.

“Okay,” You gasped, mentally preparing yourself for the stretch you’re about to feel. You hadn’t felt him inside of you for months, so this was probably going to hurt a bi—

“Shit…”

You winced quietly as you felt his thick tip slide inside of your pussy, the sensation overwhelming. You writhed under him, as if trying to get away, but you really didn’t want to get away. It was just hard to take it. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here,” Nicholas lulled, continuing to slowly ease himself inside of your pussy. His goal was to be buried to the hilt inside of you, and he was going to achieve that.

He began thrusting into you with more confidence, yet purposefully making them sloppy and slightly uncoordinated. His sole objective was making you feel good. And he was doing a damn good job at it. You were practically drooling at this point, his shaft sliding in and out of your wet cunt at an almost rapid pace. He was forcing himself to fit. He hit spots that were making you cry out in pleasure, gasping for air. “Shh, I got you, I got you,” He whispered in between gasps, his balls smacking against your ass with every thrust he made.

The bed didn’t creak once, you’ll give it that. It was a sturdy ass bed. Nicholas was pounding into you by now, working on hitting those spots that made you feel good. Your tiny hole stretches so beautifully as his thick shaft slides in and out, the small, subtle bulge just below your stomach showing just how far he reaches inside of you. His fingers traced circles over your hip, his own hips working on pumping his dick in and out of you. But they were already stuttering.

The room filled with the smell of sex, skin smacking against skin, and the sheets shifting under weight.

You missed those small, subtle whimpers Nicholas made when he was close. They felt like memories you never had the opportunity to make reality more than just a few times. You’re glad you’re reliving it — not just the sex, but what lies deeper. The pure intimacy behind it, what sex really expresses between you both. Being loved again feels… good. If not, great.

Maybe great is an understatement too.

Nicholas huffs heavily as he feels your pussy gripping his cock like a vice, contracting rapidly. He slows down because he can sense the impending release on not just him, but you too. You gasped heavily as you felt your release. Nicholas’ hips stuttered, your legs trembled, and there it was.

Nicholas’ hot seed poured inside of you, not letting any go to waste. He weakly pulled out, sighing softly. He collapsed next to you on the bed, the two of you panting. He slung his arm around your waist before pulling you closer, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Y’know,” You start, still catching your breath, “I’m glad this happened. Us reuniting unexpectedly all because you forgot to cancel a ticket.”

“Huh? Oh. No, I knew you’d come.” Nicholas said after a beat flatly, completely serious.

Well then.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Smarter

Smarter

Insight 1 Insight 2

Leah Williamson x ??

Warnings: family argument, rushed writing it’s 1am

Leah hadn’t seen any of her family in weeks, not since her granny had come to the house demanding her ring back but today was importation, today was Jacob’s day and she had promised to be there, you had promised to be there and so she found herself stood on the sidelines of her brothers champion ship final with his team. Her family stood on the other side, with no sign of you.

The match is a blur for everyone, for Leah, her family and her brother whose playing, her brother whose playing his championship match but all he can focus on is the tension between his family and his sister.

His sister who he has idolised since he was a little kid, who he wanted to be just like when he grew up.

Leah had walked down to the sidelines when the match had finished Jacob’s team coming out on top, “Jacob, Jacob, Oye Jacob.” Leah yelled across the field trying to get her younger brother’s attention only he ignored her, he couldn’t look at her, he felt sick to his stomach every time he did.

But it was Leah, and so he found him self stopping momentarily meters away from everyone else. That was all Leah needed to race towards him running up to the younger boy “Hey mate I’m talking to you.” Jacob rolled her “what do you want.” Leah can’t say she’s surprised by his reaction but it hurts her none the less “I just-well I wanted to see you-see how you were, to eh to congratulate you-it was great game mate.” Jacob shakes his head before turning.

Leah grabs his arm panic flaring within her at the thought of losing her younger brother too, “Jacob please.” Jacob harshly tugs his arm away from staring at her like she has caused him harm “no Leah, I-why-how could you” Leah shakes her head her mind racing “I-i don’t know, I can’t lie to you-I don’t know.”

Jacob scoffs “Bullshit, of course you know, this isn’t some one night mistake Leah, this has been going on for ages, and you-you have the nerve to say you don’t know, you don’t know why you cheated on a woman who loves you more than anything, a woman who has given you everything been there for everything, for everyone and asked for nothing in return, the woman you married” Jacob’s squared up to her now, taller now than he was when they first started to have arguments.

Leah feels her throat closing “ it-I made a mistake, but I don’t love her-it’s Y/n.” Jacob hates the way his heart breaks at the sight of tears welling in Leah’s eyes but he doesn’t stop “no it was, you’ve fucked it up, you cheated on your wife, your pregnant wife might I add.” Leah shakes her head “I-I didn’t know.” Jacob lets out a humourless laugh “why cause you would have stopped then.” Leah doesn’t say anything “oh my god, you would have stopped cheating on her, you wouldn’t have said anything, you would-you would have dumped that slag and gone on like you had done nothing wrong.” Leah tries to grab his hand as he begins to walk away again.

“Jacob please.” Jacob keeps walking as Leah chases him “Have you stopped seeing her.” Jacob hates that he’s asked such a question but he needs to know, and the silence is all it takes “She-she’s helping me get through this I-i have no one.” Jacob scoffs “I wonder why.”

Amanda watch’s from a distance her heart breaking at the sight of her kids fighting, at the sight of her youngest slowly starting to hate his favourite person in the world.

“I used to idolise you, I -I wanted to be you.” Jacob’s voice is quite as he admits it all to Leah, leah who wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole, to put her out of her misery. “I used to sit and watch you both, watch how soft she made you, how loved up you both were and I used to wish to have that, I used to wish to be you.” Jacob shakes his head “I can’t believe I wasted all that time wishing, when you’ve become such an asshole so far up her own arse that she has destroyed the only thing she’s ever wanted, or at least the old version of her ever wanted.” Leah can’t say anything else can’t move as her heart breaks again like it has so many times recently.

But her phone lights up in her hand as the screen shows HER name and Jacob shakes his head, he’s not angry anymore just sad, disappointed and sad “She hasn’t stopped crying, I-I’m starting to think she might never stop, even-even when the baby comes.” Jacob doesn’t say anything else instead he just leaves her there standing in the middle of the pitch as he walks over to Amanda head, Leah doesn’t try anymore, she’s tired and soaked and her stupid phone won’t stop buzzing and all she wishes for in that moment is for you. But she’s lost you, lost them, lost everyone.

[jujubuckets]

What….whats happening to me……😰

[darlingdreadwrites]

Scary? My God, You're Divine

pairing: Ticci Toby x GN!Reader

summary: Toby's been feeling insecure all day, and you snap him out of it.

contains: toby being insecure, fluff

word count: 1.1k

masterlist

a.n: this is the first thing ive gotten myself to write in weeks oml.... and yes im still alive LOL just been depressed and coping horrendously

The forest is quiet, save for the occasional chirp of birds in the distance and your conversation. The evening air is cool, carrying the scent of earth and pine. The fading sunlight paints the horizon in hues of amber and rose. You sit cross-legged on the slightly damp ground, absently brushing aside a twig as you chatted away. Your voice carries an easy, lighthearted cadence as you recount a ridiculous moment from earlier today. The punchline slips from your lips with a chuckle, and you glance at Toby. Not even the faintest sign of amusement. Just what was going through that head of his today?

Toby sits a few feet away, legs tented with his arms draped loosely over his knees. His hoodie is pulled up, the shadows of the fabric obscuring a full view of his face. His head rests against his left shoulder – angling just enough to keep you out of his peripheral vision.

He’s not even listening, you sigh to yourself.

You had noticed that he was uncharacteristically quiet for hours. And yet – whenever you would ask if he was okay – he would brush you off with joke. It seems that now he doesn’t even have the energy to fake not being upset. Unbeknownst to you, Masky’s voice is still echoing in his head – cruel and biting.

“I don’t know what they see in you, ugly as you are.”

The words had clung to him like burrs – twisting into his thoughts sharply. He hates how easily it got under his skin. He never gave a fuck about his appearance before, why was he so worried about what you’d think of him now?

Toby barely registers your voice anymore – or the fact that you had even stopped talking. It was a soft and familiar hum that would have soothed him on any other day. But right now, he feels undeserving of even that—your presence, your attention. What could you possibly see in him?

He shifts, a quiet tic jerking his arm upward before he forcefully presses it back down. The clicking of his tongue follows, barely audible because of his painful restraint. He lets out a sharp exhale, his jaw tight under the hood’s shadow.

He’s so distant. The way his head is hung – as if the weight of his thoughts is too much to bear – makes your chest ache. Fuck this, I can’t take it anymore.

Scooting closer, you lower your voice to a concerned tone. “Toby… are you okay?”

He stiffens, his fingers tightening around the sleeves of his hoodie.

“I’m f-fine,” he mutters, but the crack in his voice betrays him. He keeps his gaze fixed on the ground; the corners of his mouth tight.

You sigh, leaning in. “No, you’re not. Talk to me. Please.”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. His silence stretches long enough to almost make you ask again. He lets out a sharp exhale, his fingers fidgeting with a loose thread.

“Wuh-why do you ev-even… care?” he mumbles.

“What?” You blink. “Why wouldn’t I care?”

He looks up – just for a moment – before averting his eyes again. His jaw works like he is chewing over words he doesn’t want to say, but something inside him cracks.

“Look at me-me.” His words are bitter. His hands gesture to the scars lining his face, at the deep gash cutting into his left cheek that exposes his molars. You swear you catch him flinch when you follow the movement. “I cuh-can’t even—how can, can you st-stand to look… at me?”

His voice wavers when he forced out the last words as if it pained him to even voice his thoughts. His hands drop to his lap, clenching into tight fists. His head is bowed like he expects you to agree and run away screaming.

You reach out instead, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

“Toby,” you say softly, waiting for him to look at you. When he doesn’t, you squeeze. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, his eyes meet yours. A storm of doubt and shame swirls in them.

“I adore you,” you begin, your voice steady. “Every single part of you. Your scars, your tics, even the things you think make you unlovable—they don’t. They’re part of you. And I think you’re beautiful.”

Toby simply stares at you, his breath catching audibly. His throat works as if he is trying to swallow the lump rising there.

“You… you d-don’t mean that,” he whispers.

“I do,” you insist, your hand sliding from his shoulder to gently cup his cheek. Your thumb brushes over the rough texture of his scarred skin.

His lips part, but no words come out. He just stares up at you – eyes wide with a blend of disbelief and yearning. He almost doesn’t know how to process the sweet words you’ve offered to him. You hold his gaze, and let your affection speak louder than any of the words you’ve spoken.

Toby is quick, pulling you into his lap in one fluid motion despite the way his hands tremble. His arms wrap tightly around you, and you’re surrounded by his warmth.

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, his warm breath uneven against your skin. He clings to you to keep himself grounded. His shoulders shake, and you feel the slight tremor of his tics. There’s a small jerk in his arm, a subtle twitch in his fingers. But Toby refuses to let go.

“Y-you don’t—” His words catch in his throat. He presses his lips to your neck instead. The kiss is soft but almost desperate.

“I-I need y-you,” he murmurs against your skin. His breath hitches as he moves up to your jawline – leaving a trail of featherlight kisses. “Don’t… don’t leave m-me.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You run your fingers through his messy hair. Your other hand traces gentle patterns on his back. You let him hold you as tightly as he needs – offering him every ounce of reassurance he craves.

It feels like he can’t decide where he wants to kiss more – your neck or your face. Each one lingers, a quiet hum escaping his throat. He tilts his head to brush his lips on the corner of your mouth before turning his attention to gently suck on your neck briefly.

His hands roam – not with any intention beyond connection. One squeezes your hip, while the other slides along your arm and back. He needs the physical reminder that you are here – with him, loving him. And he loves you. Oh, he fucking loves you.

The hand on your back pulls you closer into his lap. His body twitches again – accidentally causing him to squeeze you hard enough to make you yelp. He lets out a frustrated – and apologetic – huff, but you hold him tighter.

“’S okay,” you whisper, your lips planting a kiss on his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”