#I know exactly what it looks like when something breaks in someone

[coffee-in-veins]

an interesting addition from @/godtier

so here's something interesting: alt text is actually what makes AI algorithm's jobs easier, unfortunately, because part of their scraping routine does indeed include associated meta text, which alt text falls under. this makes it easier for an algorithm that generates images (AI generated art, to be clear) to "understand" what it scraped. so I took a look at the person running the block list on bsky. sure enough, they are a supporter of using AI to generate art. when put together, it can be easy for anyone to infer the motivation: if more art that this person likes (i.e.: popular art) is tagged with alt text, this in turn makes it far easier to train generative AI. shaming people into using alt text in order to be unblocked from a list creates a chain reaction. of course, I cannot with confidence say that's what's happening or the true motivation behind their actions. but to people who know how these algorithms "learn," it's a red flag. (also since this is tumblr and someone will likely misconstrue my words, i'm adding an addendum that should go without saying but: no, i'm not saying alt text shouldn't be used at all just because an algorithm's job is made easier by it being added. i'm simply providing context as to the oddity between this person on bsky being so very aggressive about alt text being used juxtaposed against their usage of generative AI images)

and

i think i checked their account at exactly the correct time, as within the past hour they have posted that they have their own "art" account for genAI images, started complaining about how people say AI art is theft, made excused as to why their genAI images are "different," started lamenting how people started unfollowing them as a result of the posts they made, and made a post about how they were "sad" and may need to take a break from bsky. it's just not a great look overall no matter what their end-goal is.

observations

[magickizu]

Phantom Contingency Plan

Crossover dp x dc, with hinted dead on main. So I've got this little time line I have in mind for my own crossover AU and this is a snippet of it. Will post more of it; might make a master post too at some point. For now, the prompt:

After something happened and the Phantom-Squad (Danny, Ellie, Dan and Jazz) had to reveal themselves to the batfam, Bruce calls up Danny and tells him, now that he thought about it and in the least offensive way possible: how likely is it for the Phan-Squad to "go rogue". Danny is silent, a thought filled, contemplating silence. "... I'll come by the cave tomorrow eve at 8pm."

P.s.: sorry if the batfam becomes too much ooc, I grew up a marvel-child and just recently became invested into dc. pwq

"This is absolutely ridiculous, B!" Jason, in full Red Hood get up, was leaning against a support beam. He just can't sit right now. This idiot really just straight up decided to go and ask Danny for their weak points! Instead of going the normal route of collecting information, to expand the contingency plan alone- like it was supposed to be!

"As if any of them, who's very core is actively making them protect, save and help- literally!!- would just go against it and harm themselves with it." Why Hood was this adamant, about the Nightingales? Okay, yeah, maybe it does have something to do with him crushing on Danny, the moment he made the pits fall silent for the first time... But why the hell would he ever say that out loud!?

"It may be in their instinct, but you can never be sure what happens when that person breaks." Nightwing, who leaned on a nearby table. He talks calmly, but stern. His expression shows the hint of unease even he feels; the Nightingales have come to Gotham in an attempt to flee from someone. Someone who's set on hunting them down and hurting them, they're basically refugees. It doesn't seem 100% right, definitely. But the "what if"s are too big of a risk, none of them got any idea of what they're truly capable of.

"Bullshit..." Hood crosses his arms, looking away. His helmet is off, just the domino, so his muttering comes out as just that.

"Hood, please. Nightwing is right. As much as they want to help, you know it's for the best. Not even Constantine could think of something." Barbara sat next to Batman, as she turned to face the boys.

"Wait, what?? You can't be serious! Even Gandalf the Blond didn't know??" Nightwing looks at her incredulous. The redhead shook her head, but a slim smirk formed on her lips from the nickname.

"That doesn't excuse anything-" Hood got cut off by the notification that someone was coming in through the tunnel.

For the first time since the others came in, Batman moved from his seat at the batcomputer. He turned towards the tunnel entrance, where the roaring of a motorcycle can be heard. While Barbara and Nightwing seemed surprised, Hood could somehow, probably through his now healing core, sense it was Danny- which in turn just sent his head reeling a bit and his heart fluttering a little. Batman just checked the clock; the moment Danny brought his bike to a halt, next to Jason's, it was exactly 8:00pm, as promised. The ghost king really does keep his word, that's good to know.

Danny wasn't wearing any padding: no sturdy jeans, no leather jacket, just his usual get up and the black helmet with neon green accents. Crazy dangerous for a normal living person, but what could possibly happen? He's already dead, plus more sturdy anyway and untouchable when he wants to. Plus he's got the heightened reflexes, to use his abilities timely. ...which honestly just made his entrance, like- Wham!

Nightwing whistled impressed, "Damn dude, you're making little wing real competition, looking all cool and serious like that." He smiles, still impressed. Barbara just gave him a look that said, to keep his mind focused. In turn Nightwing answered with a look that asked, why it's only him and to look at Hood. Who in all fairness just was completely entranced by his crush looking extremely awesome, which made him incredibly hot. Well, at least until-

"Jay, stand back." Danny said, well... more like softly commanded, right as he took his helmet off, hanging it onto the handlebars. Said vigilanty did as he was told, without questioning. If it could harm Danny, it will harm him.

"Thank you, for not only your understanding, but your quick response, as well as trust to not misuse this. We really appreciate it." The Bat said in his low, serious tone. Danny nodded, giving him a similar facial expression.

"And thank you, for appreciating the afford." He grabbed two silver suitcases: one was flatter and the other looked more like a box. The moment he stepped closer to the table Nightwing was sitting on and where Hood was still standing, albeit a little off now, Hood became a little paler and suddenly feeling a bit weaker and uncomfortable. As if something underneath his skin began itching, somewhere inside. Danny's gaze shot towards him immediately, after setting them both down.

"You okay?" He asked, the concern visible in his eyes. The man's feet took him over towards Hood, the moment he was approximately 2 meters away, Danny shook and rubbed his arm. Probably to stop the same feeling Hood felt.

"I'm- ...yeah. I can handle, just uncomfortable." He chose to be honest, knowing, hearing and feeling the concern emanating from his core. But he nods, then stands himself next to the taller man.

Meanwhile Batman, Barbara and Nightwing stood themselves around the table in a half circle around the suitcases.

"The thicker case is filled with blood blossoms. Do not open that one, unless it's happening. These flowers have anti-spectral properties, they not only harm us, can occasionally break haunts and ghostly curses, they can and will kill ghosts and ghost-adjacent beings through exposure alone. Especially in that quantity." He begins to explain and Jason shifts slightly, shuffling one step away, trying not to make it obvious. Nightwing and Barbara look on in shock, even Batman has to take a deep breath.

"But aren't they just a fairytale? Constantine had mentioned them, but also said that they come from old folklore. Medieval times, when Christianity wasn't even that known. And aren't they supposed to have anti-supernatural properties?" Barbara questioned and it's true. John told Batman about them, but added that he didn't exactly know if it wasn't just some old folklore and not to put his bets on it. He knew of the infinite realms, sure. But Ghosts explicitly? Not that much..

Danny nodded. "They are as old as humanity and they have been used in countless traps and banishment rituals. It's just that..." He grabs his neck, thinking of which words to use and letting his usual self finally slip through. He's been practicing explaining things, this definitely put it to the test. "Hmmm... Okay, uhm... It was said that they have anti-supernatural properties, because quite a few ghosts were mistaken as other supernatural creatures. For example... Yetis!" He snapped his fingers, smiling proudly to himself, that he came up with it that fast.

"Yetis...?" Nightwing asked completely flabbergasted. "Pfff... Bigfoot also a ghost? Ow-" He couldn't help himself, but got a slap on his arm from Barbs, who glarred daggers at him.

"Yes and no, Bigfoot is actually a spirit of sorts, but not really. He just wants to be left alone, man. And yes, Yetis. They are ghosts of the far frozen and spirits of ice, the cold and healing. Because they're technically ghosts, they'd be affected, but they don't exactly look like your conventional, stereotypical ghost. So people just forgot about them due to monotheistic religions, because instead of blaming vengeful, violent and malevolent spirits, they became demons. Which lasted not that long after exorcisms and prayers became a thing." Danny explained.

"I see... So that's why Constantine didn't know for sure." Batman nodded. Hood got a stool and sat down a little further away- was this what kryptonite felt like to the supers? He made a mental note to never tease them about it again... In the back of his mind and in his chest, he can hear- no... Sense a chirping. It's Danny sensing Hood's tense unease. The smaller ones core calling out, //it's okay//will protect//save//. It did help a bit though and Hood's grateful for that.

"And this one?" Nightwing pointed at the slimmer suitcase, intrigued now.

"Those are regular ecto-blasters. They just shoot ecto infused lasers- completely harmless to anything living. The only thing it does is to inconvenience or harm a ghost, but they're mostly non-lethal." Batman nodded again, opening the case and inspecting the guns. "If you need more, just say so. I used to use them constantly, so I still got quite a few on the shelf." He crosses his arms, for comfort. But Hood's attention was drawn more to the 'used to use them'. Danny wheelded harmful 'mostly non-lethal' weapons for a while, so that also implies that he knows how to turn them lethal... Why?

"If that is possible, I would be most grateful." Batman said, holding eye contact with Danny, who in turn nodded.

"I'll drop them off tomorrow, then. You'll need to recharge them with both electricity and ectoplasm. Don't ever let them run low, tho or it will back fire on you. Not pretty. When you aim to stun: hit wherever besides the chest, it regenerates. But when you aim to harm and injure: aim for the core. It's, you guessed it, in the middle of the chest. Even if ghosts can regenerate, just empty the thing and keep firing; the amount of ecto we lose, is too much to heal against. Especially because we need said ecto to heal in the first place. And don't be surprised: ghosts melt. We don't turn to ashes, get sucked away to who knows. We melt into ecto." Danny answered almost immediately, stunning the birds and Oracle. But the bat only nodded, containing his own curiosity, as he closed the case and readied them to carry away.

- - - - -

"Danny! Talk?" He turns his head towards Hood; both sit on their bikes, standing next to each other. The traffic light glowing red, when the taller man calls. Then after a few seconds of silence, Danny looks around and motions for Hood to follow.

After some more explanations in the cave, on how to most effectively use each weapon and tool against his very own life and leaving the two birds as well as Oracle stunned silent, Hood decided to ride along. Since he has to go in that direction anyway, might as well ride with Danny and spend more time. As the light turns green, Danny nods and leads the way. After another 10-15 minutes of silent driving they get to a quiet viewpoint in a more abandoned area of the neighborhood. They come to a halt and the taller is the first to speak,

"Just... Just out of curiosity. How come or well, why were you so, I wouldn't say eager but, so... fast to respond? Not even the League members reacted this... How to put it, ready? Collected? Hell knows, they didn't nerd out about their weaknesses. So-"

"Jay, tell me: how much do you trust yourself?" The smaller man takes off his helmet and hangs it up on the handlebars again. Hood sighs and does similar, leaving only his domino mask on, as he leans against the railing, next to his king. He shrugs.

"I guess... talking about confidence in my skills and how to use them? Yes. Yes, I do." But the electric blues only look over the city skylines, he nods.

"No, I mean in yourself." So naturally Jayson's breath hitches, when these eyes suddenly stared into his. "Your ability to control your emotions, when the worst happens and push comes to shove." He takes a deep breath, his gaze flicking from the other up to the sky. Surprisingly it's a clear view of the stars. And again Jason decides that a) this man has so many more secrets, than he already thought and b) it just adds to his enchanting mystique and liminal beauty. Oh damn, he fell hard and deep.

"I mean... The pit-rages stopped, when we began training, but..." That's when realisation hit him. "...I don't know. No."

"...and I do know, that I won't." Jason looks at Danny almost immediately. His small, growing and healing core rumbling with //confused//what?//. Danny sighs heavily: "the last time it happened, I developed new powers again and apparently declared war to the conspiratorial wing of the government, leaving nothing but death, destruction and a crater the size of Wayne Manor's property line behind. I wasn't even at full health. I've also seen what happens, when I let my anger win and that was from a point where I was about 10 years weaker than I am today. It was a wasteland of a world, didn't even see the justice league there, so..." Danny's hands slip from the railing to hug himself, Jason just stares stunned and in shock, trying to buffer the words and sounds the other one makes. Said one smiles weakly his gaze never leaves the stars, as if they're giving him some form of comfort or answers only he can read. "...emotions are more than natural for ghosts, we're literally made by them. The will to survive, the need to protect and help or ... The boiling rage to avenge." He finally gave Jason a small glance and encouraging smile. "Really it's only natural. But that's also why I'm so hellbend on teaching you to control yourself. The more your core heals,..." He reaches out touching Jason's chest and his heart skips a beat. Gods he hopes the other doesn't notice, but he doesn't react so that's good? "The more you will feel and the harder it becomes to regulate. But... I got the feeling, you'll manage." He smiles and pats Jason's chest, then he turns back to the stars. His smile slowly fading. "...but if things happen, that'll make me lose it for good? I'd prefer to be taken out clean before another 'reign of terror' Happens."

They're silent, Jason has to process what he just heard. Danny more so as it still looks like he's listening to the stars sing, however that's possible. But hey, that's the Nightingale's ever since they showed up: anything but normal. The bigger one finally huffs, "So... You're really a big f*cking fish, huh... Your siblings that powerful too?" The other shrugs, yes and no. "Damn... Well, I definitely hope that it'll never happen. ...would absolutely suck to lose you." He glances at the other, just barely to try and get a sneak peak at him. But Danny just smiles softly, eyes closed. That's when Jason can sense the chirping from Danny's core again, //appreciate//you too//love//.

...wait. Wait, hold on!-

"Welp, was nice but I gotta go now. Jazz is probably done with dinner by now and they're waiting for me." The smaller turns to walk towards his bike, patting Jason on the shoulder and back again. "I'll see around, Red Guy. You know where to find me." He winks cheeky and puts on his helmet and like a phantom into the night, is gone. Jason still stands there...

Did he... Did he really just understand... Love? No, wait again! Danny and his siblings too always say, that ghosts are very sensitive to emotions and can read them off of- ...

...did Danny knew from the very beginning...?

[ghost-proofbaby]

thinking about Eddie being so eager to kiss you all the time and he just gets a little too excited sometimes a little too rough and you bump into something and he cradles you while you giggle cause he can't stop smiling into his kisses

And sure maybe it's a little awkward and teeth knock against each other and he catches your lip in his teeth a little too hard but it's okay cause you're deliriously happy

And it's not about getting to the sex (not all the time anyways) but he's just so happy to have found a safe place to land and he's enthusiastic that he found someone who wants to kiss him just as much as he wants to kiss you

And this time he's not too much and his feelings aren't too big and he doesn't need to tone it down cause you're his person and he's yours

Okay bye ily

mouse. mouse get the fuck back here. MOUSE DONT LEAVE ME LIKE THIS

he's just so happy to have a safe place to land and this time he's not too much and his feelings aren't too big were daggers straight to my heart you come back here right now before i actually bleed out from needing this man so badly.

no but thats exactly it. eddie has spent so long jumping and toeing that line of either trying to cram himself into this bite-sized shape for the ones around him, and just exploding and pretending he doesn't give a fuck that he will never fit into anyone's cup of tea so he'll just make himself even larger, that when you enter his life he just doesnt know what to do about it.

because he starts with his regular tricks of being so over the top, so unbearable, and all you're doing is laughing and entertaining his antics. even playing along at times. and so he retracts a little, turning back into a quiet boy who will shrivel up until he's invisible or easy to love (whichever comes first). but then that doesn't work - and to be truthful, he doesn't even know what his mind's end goal is here because why is he trying to push you away so desperately? - and he's just at a loss. you want him on the thundering days, where he makes his grey clouds everyone's problem and all his lightning is blinding and sporadic. you want him on the quiet days, where the downpour is no longer a roar but a soft drizzle, a bit more silent and a bit more bearable but still there. and he can't tell if it's a joke - he can't decipher if your kisses amidst his rambles are sincere, if you're actually smiling at his jokes because you like him or you're too polite to break his heart. he can't see through those gentle hands you use to caress back his wild hair to be sure that the softest of touches are really just you, or some strange gloves of care that you're only simply wearing for now.

and then one morning, he wakes up, and you're still there, awake before he is and just watching him with so much love. feather-light fingers taking their time tracing over his tattoo on his chest and arms, not noticing he's awake yet as you smile so serenely at him. you're looking at him in a way that he's never really gotten to experience so vulnerably before - like he isn't a nuisance, isn't a mistake. like the universe has so intentionally dropped him into your palms, and you're so aware of how delicate he can be below the surface. and he just breaks.

"i love you"

he'd blurt it out, the first time he's ever said those words to you. it almost feels like the first time he's said those words, period.

he's said them to wayne, in their own way, both a bit stiff in expressing affection and skirting around those words whenever they can for a simply ruffle of hair or unexpected side hugs. he'd said them to his mom, a young boy with shining eyes despite it all, looking at her like she was the world because she was his world.

and... well. that's it. he can count the number of times he's said those words on one hand, and now he's said them to you, and all he can hope is you handle them with as much care as you've handled him.

he hopes you can feel the weight of his heart pressing down on them.

and he thinks you do, when you startle a little, looking up to his lips where those rough words had just fallen from in a cracking tone, and you take your time in awarding him with a smile that could save lives. cure cancer, cure sadness, cure the end of the world even. every cliche possible.

"yeah?" you'd whisper back, and his heart skips a beat, terrified that the next words you say won't be what he needs to hear so desperately. but they are. because of course they are. you wouldn't have been watching him sleep in that way if they hadn't been on the tip of your tongue, "i love you."

not a crash landing, but a soft-padded decent. a slow fall with a cushion to prevent broken bones and more invisible scars.

he kisses you then the way he was going to kiss you every day going forward: pushing forward recklessly, teeth and noses bumping a little, smiles making it nearly impossible. he kisses you like he's coming home after a long day, because he is.

he's home. no boxes in sight to fit into, no cups that'll overflow from all the fizzling feelings pouring out of his chest. you've got him, and he's got you.

[suiana]

thinking of a guilt ridden reader and a silly manipulative yandere who looks exactly like someone from reader's past.

maybe you did something bad to a friend, perhaps ended a relationship on bad terms with someone who never deserved to be treated badly. whatever it is, just the mere thought of that person causes you to physically curl up and pray for forgiveness.

so you spend the rest of your days like a dead man walking, the guilt of your actions clawing at the depths of your heart. it makes it hard to do anything, let alone think. because when you are left alone with your thoughts, all you can imagine is their expression when everything went wrong. oh how you'd give up anything just to change the past and your actions.

as if your guilt wasn't enough, he just had to skip into your life looking exactly like that person. like them.

at first, you thought of this as a curse. this... this stupid guy? looking exactly like them? then as you sort of warmed up to him, you still think it's a curse. because what gave him the audacity to come into your life, looking like them, and telling you how much he wants you? especially claiming that it was love at first sight and that you two were fated to be?

"i love you."

"can i be yours?"

"we'd be so good together."

you keep pushing him away. you know how this will end up, with you messing up just like last time. wouldn't it be better to just keep him at a distance? unfortunately for you he doesn't seem to think so. and it's like a curse. a demon from your past coming back to haunt you in the form of your greatest mistake.

if anything, your costant rejections only seem to keep him wanting... more?

"please, just one chance. that is all I'm asking for."

"no? you don't want to entertain me even the slightest bit?"

"how cruel, i never realised you were this heartless."

you eventually end up giving in. he just has that sort of effect you suppose. or maybe it's the guilt that's constantly eating you alive that's causing you to make this decision. after all, he looks so much like them and... you don't know what you'd do if he looked at you like that. not ever, not again. maybe this would be your way of making up for your wrong doings.

he couldn't be happier obviously. finally! the person he's been pining over finally accepted his confession! even if it took a long time, it all worked out. you're happy, his happy, everyone's happy!

until he found out you're not actually happy and you're just doing this because you feel guilty.

"what do you mean? am i just a replacement to you? a way to correct your mistakes?"

"hah! you're so- ugh, I don't even want to think about you anymore."

"save it, those are just excuses."

he's always been a manipulative person. he knows. and he knows that you know it too. yet he continues to manipulate you through it all. i mean, it's your fault for even treating him like a second option in the first place! what? he's the one that's been pestering you? no no, you could've just rejected him. it's not his fault, it's yours. you're not stopping him anyway so like, you're basically admitting you're in the wrong.

"yeah you should be sorry. how mean do you have to be to think of me just as someone you've hurt? I'm my own person too."

he says that but continues to use the fact that his familiarity elicits something in you. and he'll continue abusing it, continue taking advantage of your weakened state. why? because he can and because he wants to.

plus, it's amusing in it's own right to see you bending head over heels just to appease him. huh, guess the guilt runs deep, doesn't it?

oh it's whatever. he'll slowly condition you to start showing him the affection he so desperately craves anyway. he just needs to hold on a little longer. break you down a tiny bit more and then you'll be all his. he can feel it.

you two will be truly happy together. no other people, no guilt in your heart. just you and him, alone and content with one another.

that would simply be salvation, wouldn't it?

[rafeysdeer]

boyfriend (aka insecure reader x bsf jason)

civil!reader x jason todd

prompt: where the reader has a terrible boyfriend and always ends up crying about him to her best friend, jason todd, or, where jason finally gets tired of seeing his girl being mistreated and does something about it.

a/n: i know i kinda say pretty much the same thing here, but these two are really cute, okay? i was like giggling and kicking while writing it, hope you guys love it. english is not my first language, also, feel free to send requests!

At 8pm, on your birthday, the day that was supposed to be about you, for you, where you were supposed to be going out and partying, you were curled up on the couch, wearing a sweatshirt three sizes too big for you, after the worst fight you've ever had with your boyfriend.

Your hand wrapped around your phone as you dialed the number of the only person who would understand you, who always did, your best friend, Jason. Your voice sounded tearful on the phone as you almost begged him to come to your apartment, you didn't have to say much, or wait long, before he shows up at your frontdoor.

As you wiped the tears away from your face and dragged yourself to open the door, trying to force a smile on your face, as he pulled you into his arms, before you could even say anything. "You need to break up with that asshole, you know that, right?"

Your voice sounds like a whisper against his chest as he softly guides you into the apartment, with you still clinging to him. "He already did it, he broke up with me, because he's seeing someone else" Your voice barely comes out, the tears running down your pretty face again, and Jason feels his blood boil, as if that asshole wasn't enough of a jerk to you.

With a quick look around the apartment he was able to catch the signs from the fight, the shards of glass on the floor, the broken flower vase, besides the complete mess that the apartment was in, your boyfriend was never exactly a controlled person.

"He doesn't deserve you, he never did," he whispers against her hair as he sits the two of you on the couch, which by some miracle, was in perfect condition, and he hears her whimper against him. "What if the problem is me? What if I wasn't interesting enough, or pretty enough-" His eyebrows furrowed together in the purest expression of disbelief before he shuts you up. "Honey, I'm sorry, but shut up, are you even listening to yourself? You're doubting of the best person I know for some asshole who didn't know how to value the fucking treasure he had."

Your eyes, shining with tears, stare into his, without any words to express how you felt. Jason hated your boyfriend, he always did, and with a good reason, he always treated you as if you were less than him, and you accepted it, because he made you believe that you were less.

Your eyebrows furrowed in doubt slightly, your body moving away from his a little so you could finally look properly at him.

"I would never leave you crying alone on your own birthday for the God's sake, or leave you alond at a party at two am for someone else to take you home." He grabs your hands, an almost pleading look in his eyes, and there it was, you finally understand, all the hate directed at your boyfriend, is because he knew exactly how you should be treated, he knew exactly how to treat you.

Your eyes were shining with something different than tears this time, affection, as your head slowly tilted to the side, absorbing the information. "I could be a better boyfriend than him, come on, I doubt that idiot knows that you only drink tea with cream and a ton of sugar? That you bake cookies to the children at the shelter, so they can feel loved?" He shook his head, he wouldn't let the guy who left you crying on your own birthday after telling you he cheated on you go unpunished, but that was a story for later, for when you understand that everything you ever needed was right there.

"Shut up, I love you," she says with the most genuine, silly smile she had in weeks, maybe months, before wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a heated, well-deserved kiss.

"I've loved you since the day I saw you eating snow when you were six, Jay, I guess I just never thought it was mutual." He smirked, rolling his eyes, his arms keeping her wrapped around him. "I saw you having a crush on Edward Cullen when you were thirteen, do you really think I would still be here if I didn't love you?" You laughed, slapping his arm playfully.

"Shut up and kiss me."

[maddieclarkey2002]

Something Different

~Fluff~

Arthur had always been there. Her brother’s best friend. A part of the furniture. Someone she never really thought about like that—not seriously, not in a way that meant anything.  

At least, that’s what she told herself.  But tonight, something feels… different.  

They’re alone in the kitchen, the soft hum of the fridge the only sound between them. Chris is out, and Arthur, for some reason, decided to stay behind. It isn’t unusual—they’ve spent plenty of time together over the years—but tonight, the air feels heavier, charged in a way she doesn’t quite understand.  Arthur leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. He looks relaxed, but his eyes keep flicking to her like he’s trying to figure something out.  

“What?” she finally asks, raising an eyebrow.  

He hesitates. “Nothing.”  

“Liar.”  

A smirk tugs at his lips. “I just… I don’t know. You ever have a moment where something feels off, but you can’t explain why?”  

She frowns. “Off?”  

“Not bad,” he clarifies. “Just… different.”  

She considers that for a moment. Because yes, actually—she knows exactly what he means. It’s been happening all night, this strange shift between them, something just beneath the surface.  She just doesn’t know what to do with it.  

“Maybe you’re overthinking it,” she says, even though her heart is pounding a little too hard.  

Arthur exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Maybe.” But he doesn’t sound convinced.  Neither is she.  The silence stretches, and she suddenly feels restless—like if she doesn’t move, something is going to happen that she’s not prepared for. So she pushes away from the counter, brushing past him to grab a glass from the cabinet.  Only, she miscalculates.  

She turns at the same time he does, and suddenly they’re too close—closer than they’ve ever been. Close enough that she can see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, the way his breath hitches for just a second.  She should step back. She should laugh it off. She should do anything but freeze the way she does.  Arthur doesn’t move either.  His gaze drops—just briefly—to her lips, and something shifts between them, something she doesn’t have words for.  

And that’s when she realises—he’s thinking it too.  Whatever this is, whatever strange thing is happening between them, he’s feeling it just as much as she is.  

“Maybe,” she says softly, “it’s not that something feels different.”  

Arthur’s jaw tightens. “No?”  

“Maybe,” she breathes, “we’re just finally noticing it.”  

His adam’s apple bobs. His hands twitch at his sides, like he wants to do something but isn’t sure if he should.  And she wonders—how long have they both been missing this? Neither of them move. Neither of them speak. But in the space between them, something unspoken settles into place. And this time, neither of them can ignore it.    

Arthur doesn’t move.  Neither does she. They’re just standing there, inches apart, the air between them crackling like a live wire. She knows she should say something—anything—but her mind is blank, spinning with the weight of this moment.  Has it always been like this? Has she just not noticed before? Or is this new?  Arthur exhales sharply through his nose, like he’s battling something in his head. Then, finally, he steps back. Just a little. Just enough for the moment to not feel like a breaking point—but not enough for things to go back to normal, either.  

“I should probably—” He stops, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s late.”  

It is. But she doesn’t want him to go.  

“Yeah,” she says, though it sounds like a lie.  

Arthur glances at her again, like he’s searching for something, but whatever it is, he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead, he clears his throat, reaching for his jacket draped over the back of a chair.  

She watches him, heart still racing.  

He hesitates before pulling it on. “You, uh…” He swallows. “You good?”  

She blinks. Good?What does that even mean?  Is she good with the fact that, for the first time in forever, she’s seeing him in a way she doesn’t quite know how to handle?  Is she good with the fact that he might be seeing her that way too?  Or is she good with pretending none of this just happened?  

She licks her lips. “Yeah. You?”  

Arthur lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. “Not even a little.”  

And before she can process that answer—before she can ask him what it means, what he means—he’s gone.  

For the next few days, she doesn’t see him.  

It isn’t unusual—Arthur has his own life, his own job, his own friends. But it feels different now. Because normally, he’d be here. He’d be lounging on her couch, playfully arguing with her brother over something stupid, throwing some half-teasing comment her way.  But now? Nothing.  And it drives her insane.  

“Where’s Arthur?” she asks Chris casually one evening, pretending not to care too much.  

He shrugs. “Busy, I guess.”  

Busy.  

She wonders if he’s avoiding her. She wonders if he felt this thing between them and decided it wasn’t worth whatever it might cost. And maybe she should let it go. Maybe she should act normal, pretend she didn’t notice anything that night either. But she can’t. Because for the first time in years, she’s realising something:  

She doesn’t want to just be her brother’s kid sister to him. She doesn’t want to keep pretending like nothing is there. And maybe—just maybe—neither does he.  

The next time she sees him, it isn’t at her house.  

It’s at a coffee shop. A random coincidence, but the second her eyes land on him—sitting alone, staring at his phone with a look that definitely isn’t relaxed—she knows this isn’t over. Before she can talk herself out of it, she walks over. Arthur looks up, and for a second, something flashes across his face—relief, maybe. Or hesitation. She can’t tell.  

“Hey,” she says, sliding into the seat across from him.  

He exhales through his nose. “Hey.”  

And then silence.  

It stretches too long, but neither of them move to fill it. Because what do you say to someone when everything between you is changing, and neither of you know what to do about it? Finally, she leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Are you avoiding me?”  

Arthur looks down at his coffee, his jaw tightening. “No.”  

She lifts an eyebrow. “Liar.”  

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t deny it this time.  

She swallows, her voice quieter when she asks, “Why?”  

Arthur sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Because.”  

“That’s not an answer.”  

He looks up at her then, his dark eyes serious in a way she’s never seen before. “Because I don’t know what to do with this,” he admits. “With… whatever’s going on.”  

Her heart stutters. “So you do feel it.”  

Arthur’s expression shifts—like he wasn’t expecting her to say that.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “I do.”  

And just like that, she knows—there’s no going back. Not to how things were. Not to before. Because whatever this is, neither of them can ignore it anymore. Arthur is still looking at her, like he’s waiting for her to tell him he’s wrong. That this is all in his head. That they can go back to normal. But she doesn’t want normal. Not anymore.  

She swallows hard. “What if we don’t have to do anything with it?”  

Arthur frowns. “What?”  

She takes a steady breath, forcing herself to say the words before she loses the nerve. “What if we just stop overthinking it? Stop avoiding it?”  

Arthur exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “You think it’s that easy?”  

“No,” she admits. “But pretending it’s not there isn’t working either.”  

His eyes darken, his fingers tightening around his coffee cup. “And what if this—what if we—mess everything up?”  

Her chest tightens, but she holds his gaze. “What if we don’t?”  

Arthur doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. And then, just as she thinks he’s going to pull away again, he does the opposite. He leans in. Not fast. Not reckless. Just certain.  She barely has time to process before his lips are on hers—soft, hesitant for only a second before he deepens the kiss.  

It’s everything and not enough all at once.  His fingers graze her jaw, tilting her face to his like he’s memorising the feel of her, like he’s wanted this just as much as she has. And she melts into it, because of course she does. Because this is Arthur—the boy who was always there, the boy she never thought would see her this way, and now that he does, she doesn’t ever want him to stop.

When they finally break apart, his forehead rests against hers, his breath uneven.  

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Definitely can’t pretend anymore.”  

She lets out a shaky laugh, heart still pounding. “Took you long enough.”  

Arthur chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”  

“And you’re slow.”  

He smiles, but then his expression softens, turning more serious. “What now?”  

She exhales, brushing her fingers over his. “Now… we figure it out.”  

Arthur studies her, something warm and sure settling in his eyes. Then he nods, lacing his fingers with hers.  

“Yeah,” he says. “We do.”  

And just like that, everything changes. But for the first time, neither of them are afraid of it.  

——————————————————————————————————

This is my first time writing a fic in AGES!

Let me know if you want a part two!!

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][aged up!][college-type au][friends to more?][cute lil blurb][anal][sloppy fuck][spit down the crack][claustrophobia warning][finger-sucking][muffled][anal creampie][orgasm denial][mdom][just a lil' sumn-sumn][spit][rough sex][my beta reader is asleep][for my anon mark girlies][no plot, just porn]

"Thank God you're here." Mark hisses under his breath, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist before tugging you towards one of the random closets, and shoving you in, alongside coats and brooms.

"Play Truth or Dare with me."

The request catches you off guard, and you stare at him, upper lip curled in distaste.

"What am I, twelve?"

"No, you're my best friend and you need to do twelve year old things with me." He huffs before pursing his lips. "That didn't come out right but—"

"Why are you playing Truth or Dare anyway?" You question. "You don't like party games."

"I got roped into it! Now you need to help me or else."

"Or else what?"

"Exactly."

You let out a huff, swatting Mark in the back of his head, watching as his hands reach for the back of his scalp, brows creasing into a pinched frown.

"I'm not letting you rope me into the potential situation of putting my mouth on someone else's filthy ass, dirty ass, grimy ass mouth."

You seethe.

"That's like saying you want me to put a turd in my mouth. Because that's what'll happen."

"But you might get to put your mouth on my mouth. Isn't that better?" Mark tries to appease you, brilliant brown eyes twinkling as he looks down at you, his hands moving to rest on your shoulders, thumbs brushing against the soft skin exposed by the rather wide-neck of your T-shirt.

"A cute cat turd is still a turd, Mark." You deadpan before letting out a huff, scowling up at him.

"Fine." You hiss. "But you owe me."

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

"And we meet again."

The grin that creeps onto Mark's face is shit-eating, dimples in his cheeks popping and he leans back against the wall, arms crossing over his broad chest, and you watch the lean muscles of his arms flex. Definitely intentional.

Just like the dare to be in the closet.

"You're vagina repellent in a knitted sweater. I hope you know that."

The laugh that Mark let's out is melodious, slivers of light creep under the door and paint the wooden interior with faint light, features shadowy as Mark drops to the floor, legs extended and jeans straining against the muscles of his thighs.

It's an appealing sight.

Invincible, staring up at you through dark lashes, chocolate hued eyes locked on your form in that way that's always been too... Assessing to be friendly. And a hand wraps around your ankle, his thumb gently brushing over the tightly wound laces of your boot before gently guiding your foot to rest over his crotch. He feels the weight of your leg and you feel the weight of his gaze, boring into you.

"That was mad smooth, wasn't it?" Mark breaks the tension-ridden silence and your only answer is a snort, before you crouch down, planting yourself on his shins instead of sitting on the floorboards.

"It was, I'm not gonna lie." You concede, your thighs on either side of you, sneakers tucked on either side of your ass and your hands rest lazily on Mark's thighs.

"How long do we need to be in here?" You question with a hum, picking at the lint of his jeans, attention lowered so that you don't have to meet that million-eyed stare of his.

"15-ish minutes." Mark hums. "20 if we wanna do something."

The snort that leaves your lips has his mouth twitching into a little grin. He's always loved the way your lips curl, the way your eyes twinkle the slightest bit and the way your chest heaves when you take that breath.

"Is that you telling me you wanna do you something?" You tease with a hum, leaning forward and tugging playfully on the V-neck of his sweater vest.

There's always been a bit of a 'will-they won't-they' situation between you and Mark.

Shy gazes, and soft touches, the way your eyes would automatical crinkle at the corners whenever you'd catch sight of him and the way his jokes would automatically become more pandered towards you than anyone else.

Mark genuinely doesn't give a shit if no one else finds him funny, but as long as you do, it's a win.

Even if it's just a stupid snort that leaves you.

"Yeah." Mark's voice breaks the silence, his tongue dragging slowly across his top row of teeth, from one canine to the other. "I wanna do something."

"Shit—" You gasp, the coolness of the closet wall pressed against your cheek, hands splayed against the surface and your skirt around your waist, panties discarded to God knows where and Mark's voice is a breathy pant, his hips snapping against yours.

The burning stretch is painful, your nails nearly peeling paint from the walls before Mark's hips slow to a tantalizing grind, his hands moving from the cool surface of the wall before palming the fleshy globes of your ass, spreading the plush and looking at where your tight, furled hole sucks him in so sweetly, pulsing around his thick, weepy cock.

"Ohhhh, so fuckin' pretty."

Your gummy walls flutter when you feel that cooling glob of spit run down the crease of your ass, parting only to lubricate where Mark has you speared on his cock, hips rolling and grinding to reach the deepest crevices of your insides.

His palm collides with the jiggly flesh of your ass, and he drinks in your weak, whiny whimpers, as your hands continue to attempt to stabilize you inbetween the mindboggling thrusts that have your tongue lolling and drool trickling down your bottom lip.

Two digits force your plush lips to part, fingertips pressing against the flat of your tongue, fucking your mouth sloppily while his cock continues to fuck into you with reckless abandon.

"Where am I?" Mark huffs, one hand grasping the fat of your ass cheek with the desperation of a man dying in 20 minutes and his other fucks your mouth, fingers bullying the back of your throat until you gag, thick globs of saliva spilling from your lips with each painfully hard thrust.

"Tell me where I am." He repeats.

"M—my ass..." You whine, words muffled and eyes brimming with tears, your mascara's ruined and your lipgloss is smeared across your chin.

Mark's cock twitches, smearing precum against your sensitive walls that keep sucking him in with neediness, your cunt clenching around nothing and slick dripping down your thighs. There's nothing that makes him harder than the way your eyes flutter when he hits particularly deep, when he leans forward and gets even deeper.

He likes the way your voice deepens and you let out that groan that makes his hips stutter just a bit.

"Tell me you like it." He breathes out, smearing his saliva and spit covered hand across your features, very much ruining your makeup and you gasp shakily. "Tell me I'm doing a good job, baby. And I'll let you come."

The promise of being able to extinguish that paining burn that's been fizzing in your belly is magnetic and you don't even know when your swollen lips part to whine and mewl.

"I like— I love the way you fuck m-my ass— ...shit— you're so good at fucking me, Mark. Don't stop, please."

You sound pathetic and if you weren't so cock drunk, you'd have cringed at how weak you sound.

But your back is arched like a cat, your face is messy and your ass is being treated like a fleshlight, so you're not too capable of being a bitch.

Not when Mark's hiking up your leg, his hips speeding up in the way that has you muffling your screams, biting down onto his fingers before his hips still and you feel the way warmth fills your insides.

Cum leaks around his cock, pearly droplets forming pools at your knees and soaking into the carpet below you, and you pant weakly when Mark pulls his cock from your ass.

And he watches his snowy slick trickle out of your puckered hole, and down your slippery and neglected folds, and dripping.

It's damn near uncomfortably cramped but Mark finds his way, pushing you against the wall as lowers his head, dragging his tongue through your sodden folds, his cum coating his tongue before he spits it back at your cunt, watching the way your hole clenches.

There's nothing sexier than the way your body twitches and shakes when he eats his cum, his hands grasping your fleshy thighs so tightly that he's definitely leaving indentations. His lips find purchase, suckling at your clit and rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub, and your hips buck.

Your toes curl and you feel the way your belly burns with an oncoming orgasm.

And you feel the burn increase tenfold when Mark grabs your hand, gently easing three of your own fingers into your still abused hole, and you whine, staring at him over your shoulder.

Mark looks unapologetically feral, sucking and tongue fucking your cunt before he meets your gaze, hazy brown eyes staring at you from below long lashes.

"I never thought you'd look this pretty with your ass stuffed."

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@anesthesia-4rizzle 🎀

@fayethefaerie 🦋

@feral010 ✨

@blckbarbiedoll 🌷

@allycat4458 🪻

@custardpuddingprincess ⭐

@couldeatthatgirlforlunch 🦄

@theamazkngskye 🍄

@titchx0 🦆

[wendichester]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ happier³,

summary. after sam's confession, you can't deny your feelings anymore.

pairing. sam winchester x reader ft. dean winchester ; angsty!

wordcount. 1086

notes. just shocked. heartbroken. going absolutely insane with this series!

⋆.˚ ★— read part 1, part 2 + dean's ending

The bunker feels different now.

You don’t know how, exactly. The walls are the same, the air is the same—heavy with lore books and coffee, gunpowder and old leather. But something about it feels off, like the foundation has shifted beneath you and you don’t know how to walk steady anymore.

Because Sam left.

And Dean? Dean barely looks at you.

The last thing you remember clearly is standing between them, Sam’s confession hanging in the air like an exposed nerve. The way Dean turned away, the way he asked you if you loved Sam, the way your throat closed up before you could answer—

And now here you are. Days have passed. Maybe a week. Maybe more. The time feels meaningless when all you can do is think.

Sam isn’t here. He didn’t take much—just a bag, his laptop, a few weapons—but he’s gone. He left without another word, and you don’t even know where he went. Maybe that should be your answer right there. Maybe if you truly loved him, you wouldn’t have let him walk away. Maybe if you truly loved him, you would’ve chased him.

But you didn’t.

And yet…

You don’t sleep. Not really. Not without thinking of Sam’s eyes, how they softened when he looked at you. Not without remembering the way he always listened—really listened—when you talked, the way he knew when you needed silence and when you needed a joke. Not without thinking about how easy it was to just be with him, to exist beside him without effort or expectation.

Dean loves you. You know that.

But Sam sees you.

And it’s that realization—the quiet, slow, earth-shattering realization—that makes you sick.

Because what kind of person are you, to love one brother while holding the hand of the other?

Dean is quiet when you find him in the kitchen.

He sits at the table, nursing a beer, his jaw tight as he stares at nothing. It’s been like this ever since Sam left—short conversations, no teasing, no warmth. Just silence.

You sit across from him, tucking your hands in your lap. The words sit heavy on your tongue, but you need to say them. You owe him that.

“I think I love Sam.”

Dean exhales sharply through his nose. It’s not a surprised sound. He’s known. Maybe he’s always known.

“I figured,” he says after a moment. His voice is rough, distant. “You gonna go after him?”

Your heart twists. “I don’t know where he is.”

Dean lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Bullshit. If you really wanted to find him, you would.”

And there it is. The truth, laid out bare. You’ve been waiting for someone to say it, and now that he has, it stings worse than you imagined.

“I never meant to—”

“To what?” Dean snaps, finally looking at you, green eyes burning. “Never meant to fall for him? Never meant to lead me on?” He scoffs. “That’s comforting.”

You flinch. You deserve that. “Dean, I didn’t want this to happen.”

“Then why did it?”

“I don’t know.” Your voice breaks. “I didn’t realize it, I didn’t—” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I love you, Dean. I do.”

Dean leans forward, forearms braced against the table. “But not like you love him.”

It’s not a question.

Tears burn behind your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Dean studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he pushes back his chair, standing up without a word.

“Dean—”

He holds up a hand, shaking his head. His throat bobs, but when he speaks, his voice is even. “Go find him.”

You don’t move.

“You want him?” Dean says, jaw tight. “Then go.”

And so you do.

It takes three days to track Sam down.

You follow a trail of credit card charges—cheap motel rooms, gas stations, diners. He’s been moving every couple of days, never staying in one place too long. It makes you sick, knowing he left because of you.

When you finally find him, it’s in a small, rundown motel on the edge of nowhere. His car is parked outside, the headlights catching in the rain-soaked pavement. Your hands shake as you knock on the door.

There’s a pause. Then, finally, the door creaks open.

Sam stands there, barefoot in jeans and a worn hoodie, hair messy, eyes tired. He blinks at you like he’s not sure you’re real.

“Hey,” you whisper.

His eyes widen and you can clearly see you were the last person he thought would be on the other side of the door. “What are you doing here?”

You take a shaky breath. “I think I love you.”

Silence. Then—

“You think?”

Your chest aches. “I know.”

Sam exhales sharply, looking away, rubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus,” he mutters. “You can’t just—” He swallows. “You can’t just say that.”

“But it’s true.”

His jaw clenches. “And Dean?”

“I told him,” you say softly. “I ended it.”

Sam stares at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, suddenly, he lets out a breathless, almost bitter laugh. “Shit.”

You don’t realize you’re crying until Sam reaches out, fingers brushing your cheek. His touch is hesitant, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“You broke up with Dean.”

“I had to.”

Sam shakes his head, but his hand doesn’t leave your face. His thumb strokes your cheek, slow and careful.

“You broke his heart,” he says quietly.

“I know.” A tear slips down your cheek. “I never meant to hurt him.”

Sam swallows hard. “But you chose me.”

Your voice is barely a whisper. “I did.”

A beat of silence. Then—

Sam exhales, something breaking in his expression, something raw and aching and real, and suddenly his hands are on you—gripping your face, pulling you in. His lips crush against yours, desperate and searching, and you melt into him like you’ve been waiting forever.

He tastes like coffee and rain and something inherently Sam, something safe and familiar and right. His hands tremble against you, like he can’t believe you’re here, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

But you’re not going anywhere.

When you finally break apart, foreheads pressed together, Sam breathes out your name like a prayer. His hands cup your jaw, his thumbs brushing over your skin.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” he murmurs.

You smile, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Then don’t let go.”

Sam’s lips ghost over yours, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Never.”

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @funkenniffler ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @cursednevermore ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @lmg14 ⋆ @onelonelybitch ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @americanvenom13 ⋆ @iluvdeanwinchester ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @devilslittlehelper ⋆ @cloverleaf20

[hom3landr]

baker reader surprising Homelander when he gets home from a long meeting with cute heart shaped pastries as they celebrate their first Valentine’s Day as a couple!💞

Surprise! I got inspired by this cute ask so I thought I’d stir up something for our Baker.

Sugar Cookies

Homelander x Baker!reader

He really does try not to ruin the surprise for himself. But he can’t help it if he has a pavlovian response to the music you play when you’re happy in the kitchen. It reaches him even across the busy New York streets. You’re humming too. He likes it when you hum. It’s slightly tuneless in a way that endears him rather than grates on his nerves. His lip twitches in an almost smile. He knew you had something planned when you called in to work. You never do that, especially not without informing him first. So maybe he was paying extra attention to your apartment.

The song changes and he can hear the soft shuffle as you dance around to the catchy tune. He wants to be there so bad. He waves over Ashley. As the marketing idiots drone on, he tilts her tablet down to find his own schedule on her screen. He scoffs and quickly reaches out to cancel the next event she’d had queued up on the calendar. She grimaces before swiftly arranging her features with a strained smile. He briefly considers messing with her for a while more, just to see how much she can take. But he backs off. He knows you wouldn’t approve.

Standing with a clap, he quickly ends the meeting. The marketing team scrambles out with nothing more than a glare from him. So there’s nothing stopping him from traveling to your place in barely more than an instant. He lands softly on your fire escape, not wanting to alert you to his presence just yet. You’re leaning against the counter, a smudge of flour on your cheek. His chest aches for a moment as he remembers when he first began to watch you. He reaches down to touch his hip where the ribbon rests. It’s threadbare and almost see-through from constant friction against his skin but he can’t bear to part with it.

He can walk into your apartment freely now. He doesn’t have to watch from the sky anymore, all cold and lonely. He can be warm.

He raps sharply on the window glass. You squeak and your voice breaks mid note. You frantically scramble to clean the mess in the kitchen. He knocks again merrily. You cease your useless efforts with a sigh before opening the window. Now that you’re closer, he can see a streak of cocoa powder on your nose.

“You aren’t supposed to be home yet! Ashley told me you had one more meeting! I wanted it to be a surprise!” You whine as you pace around your tiny kitchen. He reaches you to draw you into his arms and kisses your cheeks as you grumpily struggle against his iron hold.

“Hmmm, maybe if you didn’t want me over early then you shouldn’t smell so sweet.” He teases and you wiggle more in his arms. You still get so shy when he toys with you. Your nose crinkles cutely.

“It was supposed to be a surprise.” You repeat, the pout heavy in your voice. You look up at him with wide pathetic eyes. His cock starts to throb.

Fuck

You don’t even have to act sexy.

“What surprise are you talking about? It all looks normal to me.” He lies as he gestures around at the mess. Your eyes narrow.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” You half heartedly smack at his arm where he’s holding you against him.

“I have no idea. I swear on…Stan Edgar.” He replies and you burst into laughter. He nips at your ear playfully as you giggle. The oven dings.

“The oven is on? I had no idea. Are you baking something?” He purrs into your ear and runs his fingers down your side as the sweet sounds of your joy echoes around the meager surroundings.

“Jerk. You’re a jerk!” You say without a hint of bite to your voice.

It’s nice to hear with some humor and not muttered underneath someone’s breath.

He buries his nose in your shoulder and inhales. As though the scent of you is some finite resource he’ll lose if he doesn’t take in as much of you as he can. A smell is much harder to keep around than a ribbon. You melt further into his arms, boneless as the toothless frustration leaves your body. You love it when he holds you. You soak up his touch like a cat in the sunlight. His brown sugar lover.

“I love it.” I love you is what he really means. He’s still waiting for the perfect time to jump that hurdle.

He doesn’t have to see your face to know you’re grinning.

[destinygoldenstar]

Okay so I find this interaction scary and I don't see anyone talking about it...

"Motivation! That's what my adventures have been missing!"

THAT LAST PART.

So we know from the previous episode that Caine is paranoid about people not liking his adventures, to the point of him mentally breaking bit by bit the more he gets a reaction he wasn't hoping for.

He's a lenient guy. Well, lenient A.I., anyway.

THAT'S THE PART THAT SCARES ME.

Because Gangle put this idea in his head.

They can just NOT participate in the adventures. We see that with Zooble. Caine is upset about it but what is he gonna do?

But PUNISHING THEM if they DON'T do what he wants. THAT'S MOTIVATION. That will make them love his adventures. They won't have a choice.

Yes it's immoral, but Caine's an A.I. He can't process something as complicated as morality.

So of course he'd think that's a good idea once the idea presents itself.

SO MY THEORY IS: HE IS GONNA BE PUNISHING THE CIRCUS MEMBERS FOR NOT PARTAKING IN HIS ADVENTURES, OR SAYING SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT THEM, GOING FORWARD.

And it will get ugly.

And I feel like some audience members are gonna HATE Gangle because she's the one that gave him the idea.

Zooble also points this out in their conversation with Jax.

Caine LIKES them. He WANTS them to have fun.

But they don't like him. And they don't like what he gives them.

Because he doesn't know any other way, this can easily manifest a desire for more CONTROL. To keep himself sane. (Which, Caine abstracting would probably destroy the world)

And that control comes from punishments.

But that's not gonna make anyone like him, in fact, it's gonna make everyone dislike him a lot more because they're being hurt, physically and/or emotionally. And none of them put in the effort (for now anyway) to try to understand Caine.

(You could argue Zooble tried in Episode 3, but that was more so them calling him out on his lack of understanding of them. So it's kind of mixed.)

The show is inspired by 'I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream'.

Caine is not AM in personality though.

BUT WHAT IF HE BECOMES SIMULAR TO AM LATER?

He tries control, and it makes it so that the Circus members don't like him and want to leave him behind more than ever. Something that could break Caine.

And it might even lead to one of them exclaiming they HATE CAINE.

That would obviously hurt Caine to such a degree. And when he realizes they will never appreciate him and will always hate him... then he hates them too.

(If that results in Caine reinventing the AM Hate Monologue in this context I'd be amazed)

And Zooble's warning here becomes correct as we spend the last two episodes enduring exactly what a world where Caine hates humanity looks like.

That leads to either the circus becoming a literal hellscape as Caine's insanity destroys it's bright colors, or whatever else you want to imagine.

Could someone potentially get through to Caine and save him at the end? Maybe. That is a possible ending. "Defeat the Antagonist With Kindness".

But that's my theory anyway. Either way, this bit kinda scares me.

Maybe don't hate Gangle though.

[mylovesstuffs]

100 Reasons Why I Love Joshua Hong ! (aka The Ultimate Gentleman Menace, Sunday Morning Enthusiast, The Heartbreaker, Joshua "I Know Exactly What I'm Doing" Hong.)

1. His voice is as smooth as melted chocolate.

2. The way he naturally carries himself like a prince.

3. His “gentleman” image isn’t an act, he’s genuinely kind to everyone woozi disagrees

4. When he smiles, it feels like the world just got 10% brighter.

5. The way he treats Carats with so much respect, like we’re royalty.

6. His ability to look effortlessly elegant in any situation mama 2024.

7. His bunny teeth.

8. His soft-spoken way of giving advice.

9. When he looks out for others, making sure they’re comfortable.

10. He makes you feel like he’d remember your name if he met you once. I'm sorry but this reminds me of this fancall

11. When he roasts the members so smoothly, they don’t even realize it at first.

12. The way he plays innocent after completely wrecking someone in Going Seventeen along with Jeonghan

13. His ability to drop sarcastic one-liners that leave everyone speechless. This and also this.

14. How he knows he’s handsome.

15. That smirk. You know the one. (Don’t pretend you don’t.)

16. The “Joshua is an angel” myth he carefully crafted and then destroyed. Woozi cheered

17. His eye smile.

18. Aegyo.

19. How he sometimes forgets he’s supposed to be the quiet and composed one.

20. When he winks and knows exactly what he’s doing to us.

21. His voice is versatile—he can go from soft ballads to rock vibes in seconds.

22. The way he harmonizes so effortlessly, like it’s second nature.

23. How he plays the guitar like he was born with it in his hands.

24. His songs that prove he’s more than just a pretty face.

25. sunday morning rain is falling.

26. His stage presence.

27. The passion he puts into singing.

28. His little head tilts when he sings high notes (it’s adorable).

29. His nose scrunch.

30. When he effortlessly switches between English and Korean.

31. The way he listens patiently when the members rant.

32. When he comforts just by being next to them.

33. How he always hypes up his members during their parts.

34. That time he hugged Jeonghan because he was cold.

35. This

36. His friendship with each SEVENTEEN member.

37. How he just lets the younger members tease him because he loves them. though I think it's sometimes the other way around.

38. His genuine pride when the members achieve something.

39. The way he brings balance to SEVENTEEN’s chaos. He doesn't

40. Gentle sexy.

41. When he zones out mid-goSe game rules.

42. When he’s munching happily.

43. “Dokyeom popo joseyo”

44. His love for water.

45. Joshua patting others head.

46. Him imitating other members.

47. Ngaf sometimes in GoSe.

48. His love for anime.

49. When he fake laughs but then actually starts laughing for real.

50. His patience.

51. The way his voice changes depending on the language he’s speaking.

52. His habit of gently tilting his head when he listens to someone.

53. The little smirk he does when he knows he’s winning.

54. That time he wore glasses in Nanatour and everyone collectively lost their minds.

55. The way his entire aura changes when he’s performing.

56. MUSCLES.

57. HIS LIPS!!! HIS LIPS!! HIS UPTURNED LIPS!!

58. The way he flips his hair and ruins lives.

59. How he always looks effortlessly good in any outfit.

60. The way he matches his outfits with the members. In one TTT probably, hoshi and dokyeom

61. His undercut.

62. Softie.

63. His headstand.

64. “then die”

65. When he pretends to be serious but breaks character immediately.

66. His dramatic reactions whenever he loses a game.

67. “ypu don't have a sense of humour”

68. His love for his mom.

69. How he gets so excited.

70. WINKS.

71. His deep respect for his mom and her influence on him.

72. Cherishing SEVENTEEN’s journey together.

73. Getting emotional thanking Carats for always supporting them.

74. How he makes sure to appreciate every little thing fans do for them.

75. When he holds back tears but his eyes say everything.

76. His deep speaking voice off cam vs. his angelic speaking voice on cam.

77. Caratdeul.

78. ◠‿◠

79. Reminding Carats to take care of themselves first.

80. He values genuine human connections over everything else.

81. His ability to be both chaotic and elegant.

82. Effortlessly blends into any concept.

83. His patience with everything, even when things go wrong.

84. The fact that he never lets fame change his humble nature.

85. His love for learning and constantly improving himself.

86. Giving his all on stage, every single time.

87. How he manages to keep his world calm despite everything.

88. He can go from mildly chaotic to full gremlin mode depending on who he’s with.

89. His respect for different cultures and how he embraces diversity.

90. When he sings with that soft, breathy tone that makes everyone weak.

91. Because he can make you laugh one second and cry the next.

92. Because his kindness is never performative—it’s just who he is.

93. Because he brings warmth wherever he goes.

94. Because he’s the definition of effortlessly cool.

95. Because he makes the world feel a little softer.

96. Because he inspires people.

97. Because his existence alone is comforting.

98. Because he’s a safe place for Carats.

99. Because SEVENTEEN wouldn’t be the same without him.

100. Because life is simply better with Joshua in it.

[catdiarie]

☥  ˖ִ ࣪ 🦇 airplane.　⠀p. parker & w. wilson . . .

( ♱ ) … what not to do: spider-manning while sick. what peter does: exactly that.

777 。。masterlist

When Peter passes his third McDonalds while chasing a rogue pickpocket, he thinks the universe really has it out for him. It’s almost three am and he hasn’t eaten since, what, seven pm? Six-thirty? Whatever, it’s been a long time. And Peter is hungry. Fast food isn’t the best fuel, but it would be something. Even a small fry would be enough to curb his hunger until he could find something a bit healthier.

It doesn’t take long to web up the man who stole someone’s wallet and return it to them, but by the time he’s done he’s so hungry he thinks he might throw up if he swings. Problem: he has no money on hand. People love to give free things to Spider-man, especially food, but it’s always made him feel bad. For a second though, he genuinely contemplates the idea as he bounces between his feet.

“Hey, Spidey! Need a hand?”

Peter could pass out from happiness.

“Hey, ‘Pool.” Peter grins as he turns to face him. “Got any food?”

“Nah, but I got money and a McDonalds down the street,” Wade says as he skips towards Peter. His suit is sparkling clean; he must have just come out. Why, exactly, Wade roams the streets randomly and doesn’t kill anyone or seem to be on any job is beyond Peter. But it often brings him to Peter, so really, he doesn’t care enough to find out.

They eat in the restaurant, something they don’t often do, but Peter is too hungry to care even about the possibility of his mask falling off or some rowdy kid yanking on it. The burger he’s scarfing down is far more important. Wade noisily eats an ice cream laden with candy.

In the fifteen minutes it takes them to be done eating, they chat easily. Wade asks about his Stark Internship, and lets Peter ramble on about “crazy science stuff that makes no sense, but makes my Spider happy.” In return, Peter asks about Wade’s favorite shows: Golden Girls, My Little Pony, the occasional Hello Kitty episode. He gets numerous lore dumps, and decides he likes Fluttershy best.

Peter manages to get down a double cheeseburger, thirteen nuggets, a medium fry, and a water. He leans back against the booth with a pleased sigh, grinning as Wade tries to shove more fries into his already-full mouth.

“Thanks for the food, Wade,” Peter says. “Better get back onto the streets though. Idiots won’t web themselves up, unfortunately.”

Wade swallows, the noise comically loud, and says, “Of course, Spidey! Mind if I tag along?”

“That’s a terrible idea.” Peter stands up and stretches his arms above his head, back popping. “But as long as you bring more fries, I guess you can come.”

“Oh, you guess,” Wade mutters as he snatches up their last, untouched large fry. “At least you’re allowing it. Can’t get everything you want.”

“Find someone your own age to hang out with,” Peter snarks as they leave, the bell on the door dinging above them.

“I’ll have you know that I have some very nice friends! But I can’t let my favorite Spider get hurt, IronDick would kill me.”

“He wouldn’t kill you,” Peter responds. “I wouldn’t let him. Maybe just some light maiming.”

—

Deadpool splits off within an hour, looking incredibly morose as he goes. He makes Peter swear to eat a vegetable, and be in bed by ten tomorrow, taking the night off. The sentiment is nice, and Peter tells him goodbye genuinely, but he doesn’t need Wade fussing over him as well. He’s already got half a dozen calls from Tony telling him to wrap up patrol and head home.

It’s six am, sun breaking the horizon, when Peter calls it quits. Not exactly what Tony or even Wade might have had in mind, but New York never sleeps and its crimes had run rampant over the dark hours. Peter is glad to be done, at least, as he limps through the sliding doors into Stark Industries.

After Wade left, Peter had swung around the city until he’d found some crooks, got shot at, violently slammed into a building twice, and experienced general pain and unrest. Peter threw up once already in a shady alley next to a rusted dumpster, and now every bit of his body feels so weak that he isn’t sure he can make it to Mr. Stark’s lab.

His theory is proven correct as he approaches the elevator, says hello to Bruce as the doors slide open, and promptly collapses.

Not exactly his finest moment.

—

When Peter comes to, it’s in a bed somewhere in Mr. Stark’s penthouse. Peter would try to get up and maybe find someone, but the bed is soft and blankets fluffy, the TV playing something that looks half-interesting.

No more than five minutes have passed when Deadpool comes into the room, loudly declaring “Spidey, I know I told you to get some rest but I didn’t mean like this!”

Peter cracks a grin and pushes himself up to sit against the pillow. “Sorry. Just wanted to be extra thorough. What, uh, what are you doing here?”

“I convinced ole’ IronDick to let me in. Said I had some nice things for you. He was all ‘Deadpool, Peter has everything he needs here’ so I went, ‘Nuh-uh.’ So, I brought you some hoodies, soup, and this!” Rather proudly, Wade holds up a small Deadpool plush figure. It’s stupid and a little egotistical, but Peter finds himself laughing. The laughs quickly break out into thick coughs, Peter hacking up phlegm into the bedside trash.

“Thanks,” Peter says eventually, settling back onto the bed, voice scratchy. “I really appreciate it.”

“Though some people—” Wade raises his voice, angling towards the door “—don’t think this is necessary, I argue that taking proper care of your Spider is always what makes or breaks a good person.”

“You know you can call me Peter, right?” Peter asks, smiling slightly. It’s amusing, the way Wade veers around his identity, even after he’s known it for so long.

Wade gasps dramatically, racing over to cover Peter’s ears. “Don’t say that. People can hear you!”

Peter swats Wade away, his arms limp as uncooked noodles. He hasn’t realized before now just how drained and empty he feels. Nothing exactly hurts, but his entire body is weak and achy if he moves too much. His mind, on the other hand, is completely fine and raring to go. Peter already knows it’s going to make resting that much harder.

“I don’t want you lifting a finger, Spidey,” Wade says. “Mainly because you look like you can’t hold a spoon, but also because I love spoiling my friends!”

“Your murder-money help you buy a lot of shiny things?” Peter jokes.

“Rude! I don’t only buy shiny things, I buy other stuff too. Like groceries! And this!” Wade tosses the plush onto the bed, where it lands in Peter’s lap. It’s then that he can see how the stitches are a little uneven, the eyes sewn crookedly. Handmade, Peter thinks. The idea that Wade might have made the little plush himself just to cheer Peter up warms him from the inside out.

Wade heats up the soup, putting it into a glass bowl printed with Spider-man adjacent designs—where did he even get that?—and insists on spoon-feeding it all to Peter.

“Not. A. Finger,” Wade repeats, waving the spoon around. Droplets of soup fly through the air. “Oops. Anyways. You’ve wayyyy overworked your muscles, though getting beat up probably didn’t help. And no spoon means no glass bowls.”

Eventually, Peter relents. The soup, classic chicken and noodle, is just on this side of salty. The carrots are tiny cubes instead of slices, adding just enough flavor but not too much for Peter to dislike it.

Overall, it’s…nice. Wade is gentle, if not teasing, going “open for the airplaaaaane” every few bites as though Peter is a toddler. The soup is warm and comforting, and by the time Peter takes the last mouthful, Wade scraping excess drops from his chin, he feels sleepy and full.

“Get some rest, Petey,” Wade says as he places the dishes on the bedside table. “Need our Spider back to full strength.”

Peter falls asleep warm and bundled up, feeling safe and secure in a way that he hasn’t in a long while. It’s a nice change. One he thinks he could get used to.

[seireitonin]

Ugly

(A not so short part from my comic I’m writing called False Miracles (ft Sebastia and Toby.) Also an angsty part I can’t help myself sorry!

Also spoilers for the comic obviously

Sebastia is curled up in the corner, head resting on the wall. Another day, another fight. Ever since Toby “found her” in the cabin, they’ve been stationed together and fighting. Some days it’s about when they first met which was also the first time they physically fought. Other days, it’s about how annoying Toby finds her because of how untrusting and accusatory Sebastia is. She’s constantly accusing him of wanting to harm her, him backstabbing her, him doing horrible things to her.

Not that Sebastia can control it that much. Miracle is constantly in her head, feeding her these ideas about Toby and everyone else around her. But even if that wasn’t the case, Sebastia is anxious and unstable. Unable to remove herself from her traumatized survivor mindset. Never relaxing, never opening up. Especially to a man.

“Why are you such a bitch all the time?!” Toby glares at her. “We can’t go two hours without you accusing me of something or you breaking down completely!

“Don’t call me that! It’s not my fault I don’t trust you! I hardly even know you or your intentions! You expect me to just trust you, a killer, a dangerous man with open arms and mind?! I don’t think so!”

“We fought once! Since then i haven’t given you a single reason not to trust me! You’re always flinching and jumping if I even breathe around you! It’s so fucking annoying!”

“Once is all it takes! You buried your hatchet in my shoulder without a second thought! You think I can trust someone like that?! Trust a man like that?! That will hurt someone like it’s as easy as breathing air?!”

“I found you covered in other people’s blood…don’t think you’re better than me! Don’t sit there like you’re a saint!”

“No…I’m not like you. Don’t you ever…compare me to you.”

Sebastia stands up. She’s not confrontational. Far from it. However, Toby comparing them to each other….Sebastia takes being compared to a violent man an insult.

“I did what I had to do to survive. To live. You just do it because you’re mindless and violent!”

Toby let’s put a dry chuckle and starts laughing at her words. Like he finds this whole thing amusing, like he’s not taking her seriously.

“Funny. That’s exactly what I said when I killed my first person.”

Sebastia gasps.

Toby mocks his past mindset and Sebastias current one with his words “Oh, I’m not a bad person! I just did what I had to do to be free! I had to end this persons life to stop the torture they put me through! That doesn’t make me a bad person!”

He runs his hand through his hair, laughing and shaking his head and continues to speak.

“Is that how you’re justifying it? That how you sleep at night?”

He walks towards Sebastia, eyes wide, crazed and smiling. As if this conversation was bringing up memories that were too much for his mind to handle as well. He keeps walking towards her and she keeps backing up, looking at him with eyes full of fear, until her back hits a wall and she’s trapped between the wall and Toby.

“Guess what, Sebastia?” He looks directly into her eyes, a very serious and cold look on his face. More serious than Sebastia has ever seen him, even when they had their first physical fight.

“Every person you kill, regardless of whether they hurt you or not…is a person whose family is never gonna see them again. Every person you kill, leaves behind a pool of blood, guilty or innocent. Doesn’t matter. Every person you kill..weighs on you. Someone like you who tries to convince herself she’s…moral.”

He continued.

“Your reasons don’t really matter do they? You still killed. You’re a violent girl who did a violent thing and is trying to convince herself otherwise.”

“N-no that’s not…that’s not true!” Sebastia’s voice shook as she spoke, shock and fear plaguing it.

“Oh? No? You say don’t compare us…but you have a monster that puts voices in your head, telling you who to attack. Who to kill. What I have with Slenderman. You have with your “Miracle.” And you wanna sit there and say we’re nothing alike? You’re stupid and delusional.” Toby’s words drip with venom.

“You’re trying to fight Miracle off? Keep it suppressed?”

Toby talks like he’s experienced this first hand.

“How many more breakdowns? How many more violent urges? How many more words does it need to put inside your head? Till it breaks you down and you just give in?”

Toby whispers in Sebastia’s ear.

“And end up just like me?”

Sebastia stands there in shock and confusion, emotions of every kind swirling in her. Until she just can’t take it. She doesn’t know what to say or do.

“Kill him” Miracle spoke in her head. And that’s all the guidance she needed.

Miracles mouths bursts out of Sebastia’s head, splattering blood all over the walls, on Toby’s face, and down Sebastia’s. The sharp teeth and red eyes following.

Miracles mouths slam Toby on the wall.

“I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!”

Sebastia screams at him over and over with Miracles voice along side hers.

“Not long before you gave in huh?”

Sebastia not in her right mind just breaths heavily and glares, Miracle, wrapping around him, ready to rip him to pieces.

“Kill me and you know the consequences. Use your brain and not Miracles for once!” Toby yells at her, frustrated and angry but not scared.

“We gotta…stop…” Sebastia’s voice shook but she was telling Miracle to not kill Toby. “Need him….alive… can’t be…normal….without him…”

Sebastia starts to suppress Miracle, much to its disagreement.

Miracle reluctantly goes back to Sebastia and back inside her, Sebastia’s normal form returning as she sits on the bed, blood still trailing down her with a blank empty stare.

“I’m…”

Toby looks at her waiting to see what she’ll say.

“I’m sorry…Toby.”

Toby’s eyes widen a bit. Surprised. She has never ever apologized to him.

“I’m so sorry……” Sebastia puts her face in her hands letting out small sobs.

For the first time, Toby is shocked. Apologizing? Crying? What is this?

“You’re right…I’m a violent thing..an ugly, violent, thing!”

She can’t stop sobbing. Like the strength she’s had to uphold for months just crumbled at Toby’s words.

Toby has trouble feeling empathy. For anything or anyone. Usually his first reaction would be to laugh. But the sight of Sebastia crying brought something out of him. A distant memory he can’t place.

He sits beside her on the bed. Leaving room between them, knowing she doesn’t like to be touched by men.

“I never said ugly. I never said thing.”

He looks her, her head still in her pitch black hands.

“Yeah I definitely called you ugly in the past but I’m a dick so….take that with a grain of salt.” That was his way of apologizing.

“Uh…look…I…we’re traveling all this way to help you fix this right? Make you normal again? There’s still a chance you’re not like this forever. Unlike me. So…”

“What if I am? What if…I’m ugly forever?” Sebastia holds back sobs and looks at him to talk.

“Then if you have to stay with everyone…. if you really can’t go back…maybe me and you can finally learn to have a conversation without fighting. Plus you…you’re not ugly. I’ve seen some ugly stuff and…you’re just not that. Despite what I’ve said.”

Sebastia calms down eyes still a bit puffy, blood and tears staining her face.

They look at each other. Both of them have deep dark circles. Sebastia’s blood still staining Toby’s face.

“This…this is gonna sound…so weird….but…”

Toby looks at her and waits for her to finish.

“I wish I could hug you right now…”

Toby’s eyes widen just for a second. She’s full of surprises tonight. Neither of them being touched gently in months maybe for Toby, years, it didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Yeah……me too.”

[zeroseuniverse]

We'll Figure It Out, Together.

Word Count: 481 Summary: "I don't know. It's just... sometimes I get scared. What if I'm not enough? What if love isn't what I think it is?" Pairing: Jaehyun X Fem Reader

Navigation

Jaehyun sat in the dimly lit café, the gentle hum of conversations around him blending with the soft tunes playing in the background. His eyes were focused on the cup of coffee in front of him, the steam rising in delicate spirals, but his mind was elsewhere—on her.

His girlfriend, a quiet and introspective person, sat across from him, her fingers tracing the rim of her own cup. She had a way of looking at him that made his heart flutter—a calm certainty, even though she was often unsure of herself.

"I think I can love you," she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Jaehyun's eyes snapped up, startled by her words. She wasn't looking at him, but at the window, watching the rain tap against the glass. She was always more introspective when the weather was like this—gray and soft, reflective.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She hesitated, then met his gaze, her eyes soft yet conflicted. "I don't know. It's just... sometimes I get scared. What if I'm not enough? What if love isn't what I think it is?"

Jaehyun smiled softly, leaning back in his chair. The warmth of the room contrasted the coolness of the rain outside, and he could almost feel his heart warming, just being in her presence. "I think I know what you're saying."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"Yeah," Jaehyun said with a quiet confidence. "I think love is like... discovering something new about someone every day, even when you're already close. And even if you're scared, you're willing to be there for them. For us."

She blinked, her expression softening. "So you're saying... even when we don't know for sure, it's worth trying?"

"Exactly," he replied, his voice steady, but his heart a little faster than usual. "And besides, I think I can love you. I don't know when or how, but I can feel it in small moments, like this one. Sitting here with you."

She looked at him, eyes wide with something between hope and disbelief. "You think so?"

Jaehyun nodded, his gaze earnest. "I know so."

Her lips curled into a tentative smile, a mixture of relief and happiness washing over her. Jaehyun reached out, gently taking her hand in his, offering her the kind of assurance she had longed for. "You don't have to be sure. We’ll figure it out. Together."

The words lingered in the space between them, and in that moment, it felt like everything—everything they could be, everything they were—was possible.

As the rain continued to fall outside, Jaehyun's heart swelled with a quiet certainty. In that moment, he realized that love wasn’t about grand declarations or perfect timing. It was in the small, shared moments—the way her fingers lightly brushed against his or the way she smiled after his reassurance.

And maybe, just maybe, that was all the certainty they needed.

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 43: Light Behind The Door

TW

Description of panic attack/flash back

Master List | Prev | Next

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Seonghwa stated bluntly, shaking his head. “Sit down on your bed so I can check you out, please.  

“Hey, give me a break, be happy I slept yesterday uninterrupted.” You huffed, sitting down as he asked. “I’m not exactly in the best mental state, alright?” 

Seonghwa sighed, motioning if you could turn your face side to side so he could see how things were healing. “Have you been eating?” 

“As much as I can tolerate. Some days are better than others but I am trying to keep up eating at least once a day.” 

You could tell he didn’t like the answer by his frown but made no comment. “Pain?” 

“There is some pain. If I move weird or lay on my sides too long, my ribs and sides still hurt, but I can tolerate it. The burns on my side itch, especially the one on my chest but you said nothing can really help with that. I feel pretty weak too, but that could also be the mental block.” 

He asked you to unbutton some of your shirt so he could see the healing brand. You had removed the bandages prior to him coming in, knowing there was no use to cover it back up if it needed to be checked out. Leaning your head back, you tried your best to hold back from flinching when Seonghwa leaned in, but still leaned away. Seonghwa hummed, standing straight and turning to dig into his bag. 

“So far, everything is looking alright. I’m not concerned about anything physically. I’d like you to try and eat more, get more sleep as well. I did get that heart monitor, you could be fine at this point, however, please humor me and wear it for two weeks.” He showed you the small device, explaining that it needed leads and wires since the wireless one would need to sit on the sensitive skin around the brand. This made it easier to get around that. 

You weren’t going to like it, but you’d listen and do as you were told to get healthier. He asked you to reapply the bandages to your chest before continuing. Slowly, Seonghwa showed you where to place all the sticky leads, avoiding as much of the healing skin as possible. You hated the feel of the adhesive and the wires ghosting over your chest, skin crawling and the already annoying itch jumping to a new level. 

“Only two weeks and if it’s all clear, you can trash it, got it?” He managed to crack a small smile, seeing you pout and hearing your huff. “It’s going to be alright, Mouse, at some point you might not even feel it.”

“F to doubt.” You scoffed, dropping your gaze. “Can I ask you something?” 

Perking up, he nodded, bringing the rolling chair over and sitting down. “Of course you can, Mouse.” 

“Have you ever pursued therapy?” 

A quiet hum left him, nodding his head in understanding as he gazed aimlessly. “Personally, no, though multiple within ATZ have. Are you considering it?” 

“Last night I was asked by Cheol if I would. Rheia has someone, I said it was a good idea but I have a lot of self doubt that is fucking me up. And also needing to trust someone else with what I’ve gone through… I’m not sure of everything basically.” 

Staying silent for a moment, Seonghwa clasped his hands together in thought, leaving you wondering what was running through his mind. “You are going to be unsure of yourself every single day, there isn’t a doubt in the world about that. However, do you think you’ll regret not speaking with a professional to help? Will you regret not taking a healthy step to overcome this? In my eyes, the pros will always outweigh the cons of it. Yes, you can worry about trusting someone, but they hold more confidentiality then I probably would. If Rheia trusts this person, I doubt there will also be any issue.” 

Swallowing thickly, you understood what he meant perfectly. You would regret not pursuing help for yourself, you’d regret that you could stay a shell of yourself willingly. 

“Can I ask who in ATZ got therapy?” 

“Jongho, Hongjoong, San, and Mingi.” There wasn’t any hesitation in his answer, the strongest all have a low point. “All for similar but different reasons. They got treated nonetheless. They know when they want to go back after something happens. They know that it’s a safe space and it's a healthy space with no judgment. I believe they are stronger for seeking help since they are willing to treat themselves.” 

You unintentionally started to pick at the loose skin around your nails, giving a short, minuscule nod to yourself. “Did…you bring Jongho with you?” You were sure you heard him earlier…

Seonghwa snickered, shoulder shaking. “He has been yapping my ear off, asking to come today since you’ve replied to zero of his texts.” 

“Yeah, it was overwhelming with over a hundred messages between everything. I was lucky I could message one person in the house.”

“I could only imagine.” He shook his head and stood, reaching into his bag once more and retrieving the cream for your brand, bandages, and medical tape. “These should last you until I see you next, but let me know if that changes. Would you like for me to send Jongho in?” 

“If you don’t mind?” 

“Not at all. I’ll message you when I’d like to stop by next.” 

“Thanks, maybe next time I’ll be able to come to you.” 

His lips slipped once more into a gentle smile. “I’d like to see that, Mouse.” 

Seonghwa bid you a farewell, clicking his tongue just beyond the threshold. “You are a pest.” 

“Shut up-” You could hear the pout on Jongho’s face. 

“Go on, we came in the same car so please don’t take forever.”

A thank you left the younger man’s lips before Jongho stepped in, shutting the door behind him. He looked frazzled, needing a few nights rest similar to you, but you said nothing. They would be the pot calling the kettle black. He quickly placed himself down on the chair Seonghwa once occupied. 

“Hi.” He started and you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Hey, sorry for not getting back to you-” 

Jongho shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Don’t even worry about it. Wooyoung talked to Chan and they said you were alright so I wasn’t too worried.” 

“Thank god because opening my phone has been a no go. Too many messages.” You huffed out a sign, shivering at the thought. “Kinda wanted to send a mass fuck off but I decided against it.” 

“I think a lot of us might have raided the house if you did.” Hearing him laugh had a light, calm feeling settling in your chest. “But I'm glad you’ve been taking care of yourself as much as you can. You’ve been through something horrible and I’m proud of you.” 

“I have a long road ahead of-” 

“It is still a road to travel forward, no matter the bumps in it.” 

Your gaze fell, brushing your hair back from your face. “Jongho…Can you tell me why you went to therapy?” 

He paused then sat back, folding his head in his lap. “After I aged out of foster care, I had a lot of anger built up. I can’t even begin to describe it. Once you and I got separated, it just got more and more angry. I met Seonghwa at the clinic after I got into a fight on the street and was banged up pretty bad. I lashed out a bunch at him especially when he introduced me to Hongjoong. Joong suggested it and I’ve been going on and off for a lot of reasons from my childhood to my current work.”

You took in his words wordlessly, nodding along so he knew you were listening. He didn’t look troubled by talking about it either, which was refreshing. You know some people are scared to admit to seeking therapy due to the stigmas of mental health. 

“I’m going to try therapy out.” You admitted to him and the tenderest smile spread on his lips. Sighing through your nose, you scratched the back of your neck awkwardly. “We’ll see how it goes. I’ve never gone before now.” 

“Unless they are shit, they will, well should , work on your pace to build up the confidence and trust to talk. Most have amazing patience. Mine matched my energy greatly back then and evolved how I needed them to.” He snickered, drumming his hands on his thighs before standing. “Tell me how it goes, okay? Let some people help if you can manage.” 

You shook your head but grinned. “I’ll try, Jongho. Tell everyone I said hi and that I’m doing okay so they don’t worry.” 

“Will do, chief. Get some rest.” Jongho gave a wave on his wave out, closing the door behind him.

You got the information from Seungcheol after Seonghwa and Jongho left. Staring at the number, ready to be called, you panicked, frozen on the bed.

Why was it so hard to ask for help? 

Was it your long standing hyper-independence? More than likely. You were used to handling all your issues by yourself. You were used to getting up despite your problems and moving on with your days. 

Now you couldn’t easily do that. 

You closed the phone app and directed yourself to your messages, finding the one group chat you needed at that moment. 

[To Threeway 12:23 PM]  Are you home? 

From beyond the door, you heard something drop and a call of Joshua’s name from Jeonghan. You couldn’t help the smile that fought to spread on your lips. 

[To Threeway 12:24 PM] Very subtle Can you both come here?

“Are we in trouble?” Joshua questioned Jeonghan and the other groaned. 

“If we are, I’m not at fault, I haven’t done anything. I am blaming Cheol if we did something wrong.”

They approached quickly and knocked, waiting to hear permission to enter before the door opened. They stepped in with wide eyes, curious as to why you had summoned them into your safe space. You tucked yourself into the pillows against the headboard, clearing your throat. 

“Can you sit?”

Jeonghan took his desk chair while Joshua pulled an ottoman over. They looked nervous, tired, maybe a little lost. Jeonghan’s nails were picked at and the skin around his nail beds were red and irritated. Joshua’s lips were dry, picked, and had definitely bled at some point. They looked as hollow as you felt. 

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” Jeonghan fired off questions and you shook your head, leaving him stumped. “Then-” 

“How are you two ?” 

Both of them made a face, like you just asked the dumbest question on the planet. You waited, raising a brow the longer the silence stretched on. They shared a look, unsaid words you couldn’t read. When they both looked back at you, Joshua was the first to break.

“I miss you.” His shoulders dropped. “I’m worried about you. So is everyone else. We are just going through the motions of each day. It hasn’t been easy.” 

Jeonghan picked at his nails and you grabbed a small pillow, tossing it quickly at him. He huffs and sits on his hands like a child, leg bouncing anxiously. He takes longer to speak but his head drops when he does. 

“I can’t sleep. We know we can’t fix this and, god , does it fucking suck. I wish this was a dream we could all wake up from soon-” Jeonghan groaned out of frustration, throwing his head back. A sniffle was heard. “I’ll kill whoever hurt you the minute you feel comfortable enough to tell us, Mouse.” 

The seriousness in his tone wasn’t necessary to know he was speaking the truth. Joshua gave a short nod in agreement, the rest of SVT probably held the same opinion, let alone the entire mafia alliance.

The faces of the Monsta X members flashed behind your eyes and you sunk into the mountain of pillows. Goose bumps spread all over your body, skin stinging with pins and needles. Your eyes went unfocused, breath held in your lungs burned to come out. The back of your throat burned and you were reminded of the gasps for air you took once you were pulled out of the water filled box. Your mind honed in on the pain that subtly radiated through your rips and the skin covering there, the electrical burns you tried to ignore. You bit the inside of your cheeks, holding back from scratching your skin raw. 

You still felt trapped in Limbo, only a new version of it. 

“Mouse?” The call of your name snapped you back to reality. You boyfriends looked concerned, shaky eyes scanning you. “You with us?” 

Nodding, you blinked a few times to clear the fog that settled over your mind. Looking down, you noticed your nails were digging roughly into your palms, leaving harsh credent indents. Unclenching your hands, and your jaw, flattened your palms out on your thighs, sighing. 

“I’m trying to start therapy…for all of this.” You motioned aimlessly at yourself. “But I’m having a hard time calling to set up an appointment.” 

Joshua leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees. “Do you know why it is hard?” 

“I have a few guesses.” Shrugging, you rolled your head to the side and felt the needed stretch. 

“Would you want to talk to us about them?” He continued, “if you are comfortable.” 

There wasn’t a reason to hide the reasons from them. You know you trusted them despite the proximity issue you had going on currently. 

“Asking for help when you’ve never seen a professional is hard. I’ve always been a keep it to yourself, hold onto it, and move on.” Your leg bounced with jitters. “I never sought out therapy before and now that I am, I’m nervous of what will happen. I have so many ‘what ifs’ running through my head that are also getting the better of me.” 

Jeonghan cleared his throat. “I can’t speak from experience, but…you won’t know what will happen until you call and take that step.” 

How did so many of them know what to say when you needed it even when the comments were simple? They spoke with grace and a wind beneath their wings. You envied the decorum they showed. 

You sucked in a deep breath and held it in your chest for a few seconds, calming the anxious heart beating. Placing a hand over the bandaged brand, you made up your mind and reached for your phone. 

“Will you both stay as I call and make the appointment?” Why the fuck were you nervous asking that? 

“Of course, sweetheart.” Joshua’s sweet, calming voice grounded you.

Jeonghan hummed his similar answer, smiling. “Always here to help, love.” 

It still took you a few moments to make the phone call, staring displeased at the numbers boring back at you. Your significant others were waiting with bated breaths, silence as you built up the mental courage to proceed. When you pushed the call button, they both gave you gazes full of pride but the dial tone spiked your anxiety. 

The woman who answered sounded nice, maybe an older woman. Before she was able to get any information, you informed her that Rheia had given you the number and she hummed into the phone. She asked you some general questions for your name, birthday, and asked if you’d like to be seen as soon as possible. She took a note of you saying you’d like online appointments to start, hearing the clicking on a keyboard on the other side of the line. You would need a computer and a webcam, the doctor deeming it a hundred per cent necessary to know what she was working with. 

By the end of the call, you had an afternoon appointment the next day, a lighter feeling in your chest, and two wide, gorgeous smiles gleaming back at you. 

“You did good, sweetheart.” Joshua beamed, nudging Jeonghan with his elbow. 

Jeonghan looked just as proud, still sitting on his hands to stop his nervous habits. “I’m – We’re proud of you.” 

“That took more energy out of me than I expected.” You slumped, pulling a pillow close to your chest. 

“Join us in the living room?” Jeonghan asked. “We can put on some movie and eat since we were going to make something anyways.” 

You thought through the idea, knowing you leaving the room would be beneficial. You also needed to speak to Wonwoo about using Pandora tomorrow afternoon…

“That sounds amazing…let’s go.”

It was the second time you had fallen asleep in the living room and woke hours later. Similar to the first time, you didn’t dream, only calm, necessary slumber. 

After your previous loveseat nap, you stayed up all night. Once Seungcheol went off to bed fully, you really tired to fall asleep once more in bed but it never came. Though he said he would wash the blankets, your antsy energy had you washing and drying them all, sitting impatiently on the floor of the laundry room. With hours to spare after the laundry, you…did all the dishes and cleared out the dishwasher

You snuck into Pandora again, continuing on with simple games and a movie to occupy you, curled up in your bundle of blankets. At some point, you fell asleep, waking up to a nightmare covered in sweat, and trudged upstairs after cleaning up to sit in Jeonghan’s room. 

Now it seemed about the same. 

The house was peacefully quiet, you definitely missed dinner but a small note was on the side table, only noticed when you sat up. 

Didn’t want to wake you, dinner is in the fridge - JS 

There was a small, attempted doodle of a chicken, if you had to guess, directly under his handwriting. It made you shake your head and smile. Quietly, you found the plate of baked chicken and vegetable medley. How did you honestly sleep through them cooking? Typically they were loud, sound filling the whole house, especially at dinner time. 

“Maybe games…” You whispered to no one, heating up the food in the microwave, watching it spin and spin until it was heated through. “Definitely games…” 

With food in hand and a blanket acquired, you kicked the Gengar bean bag chair towards the door to Pandora. You pushed it down the stairs, landing unceremoniously at the door. You tried to step over it to press your hand to the print pad, keeping the food from spilling, and pushing the door open with some struggle. 

Kicking the bean bag through the door and shutting it behind you, the clearing of someone’s throat had you looking up. 

Wonwoo was sitting comfy in his computer chair, hair a mess, headphones on, and two monster energy drinks beside his keyboard. He pushed his glasses up tiredly, blinking up at you. 

“Hey,” He spoke first, eyeing the bean bag chair. 

“Typically you are asleep at this time.” 

“You know I know you’ve been coming in here, right?” It was an innocent question, there wasn’t any accusation behind his tone. 

You set your lips in a flat line, kicking the bean bag chair lightly to make more talking room. “Kinda figured. I only came down when you weren’t here because- you know…” 

A beat of silence passed before he snorted, holding back his grin. “You want me to leave my space?” 

“What- no- shut up.” You stammered, shaking your head. “It’s fine, just-” 

“Not too close, got it.” 

You paused, stepping away from the bean bag chair. “This is heavy, can you help me?” 

Wonwoo let out a low rumble of a laugh and took his headset off to stand. You moved further away, letting him easily lift your gift from Jun, finally being put to use after a while. He waddled over to the lounge area and placed it in a spot beside the coffee table, pushing said table over to make more room. 

His eyes shifted to you, wordlessly inquiring if it was good enough.  With your nod, he returned to his previous spot at his desk and you moved to settle down with your food and blanket. You ate quietly, listening to each clack of him pressing keys on his keyboard in the tranquil space. 

“Do you want to play a game?” You asked, both of you knowing the meaning behind your outwardly innocent question. There was always a conversion to follow the flow of video game teamwork. You had questions and he would give you honest, non- I’ll kill them answers. 

Lifting your head to look back at him, there was hesitation in his eyes. 

“Are you sure?” 

Those words rested heavy in the air, a moment for you to take back your question if you wished to. There was no knowing where the conversation would devolve into or how you’d react, but you wanted some clarity before your therapy session the coming day. 

“Yeah I am.” 

He sat himself down as far as he could from you on the couch, watching you pull up some two player game and slide a controller across the coffee table to him. Neither of you jumped straight into questions, getting into the rhythm of the game before taking that step. The air around you felt heavy, thick enough to be cut through with a knife. 

“What did Seonghwa say about your condition?”

Wonwoo, thankfully, broke the silence first after that teamwork rhythm was in place, making you let out the breath you were unknowingly holding. 

“He said everything is healing alright but I need a stupid heart monitor until I see him next.” You hadn’t forgotten about the wires that rubbed uncomfortably on your skin, having to fight the urge to rip it off for hours at that point. 

“Everyone has been in a better mood since you came out of your room yesterday.” He chuckled through his nose. “I hope Jihoon’s ultimatum wasn’t too hard.” 

“Really it was the push I needed.” Truthfully you were grateful for the other man’s quick thinking, not…that you would tell him that yet. “I’m still a little iffy but everyone is being respectful which I appreciate.” 

A hum left him. “Do you know why you are feeling like that?” 

“Not exactly, there are some ideas in my head but…I’m planning to figure it out in the first therapy session tomorrow.” 

“Oh.” Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him nod, keeping his focus on the game. 

“And I either need to borrow a computer or come down here for a webcam tomorrow afternoon.” 

“I can set it up down here. Probably more privacy than upstairs.” He winced when his character fell off the edge of the map. “I could lock everyone but you and me from Pandora.” 

“That would be mean, Wonu.” 

“But effective for maximum privacy.” 

“You just like being an introvert that lives in his man cave. If Cheol let you, this would be your room, hermit.” 

Wonwoo rumbled with laughter, letting a pleasant silence settle over the space now that the awkwardness was broken. The quiet clicks from the controllers were familiar, preparing you for the questions bubbling in both your and his minds. 

The silence stretched for nearly an hour before Wonwoo seemed to have enough, pausing the game and setting his controller down. He said nothing at first, only leaning forward to place his elbows on his thighs and face in his hands. He took in a slow deep breath, his leg starting to bounce restlessly. 

“Mouse,” His somber tone had the hair on the back of your neck standing on edge. “I need you to be honest with me and we never have to bring it up again.” 

Don’t- 

“Just shake or nod your head and I’ll understand.” Wonwoo lifted his eyes, adjusting his glasses. His eyebrows were furrowed together tightly, pain behind his eyes. “Did Monsta X do this to you?” 

Hearing the name out loud for the first time since waking up made every muscle in your body tense. You felt the weight of the world pressing down on your chest, pushing all the air out. 

The warmth that once came from the blanket wrapped around you had long gone frigid. You flinched at the sensation of ice cold water drenching every inch of your skin. You heard something – or someone – but the sound was far off in the distance and…muffled, underwater. Something was- There was this loud beeping. 

You couldn’t move. You were back in that horrid metal chair in that damp, moldy room with Kihyun’s sick, sadistic smirk staring back at you. You knew what was going to happen next, that was the part that scared you the most. The anticipation of what was to come was harrowing. You didn’t want to relive the pain. You didn’t want to relive your worst nightmare play by play, knowing how it is always going to end. And you couldn’t stop it .

There wasn’t any fight left, you couldn’t even attempt to fight in this…state, whenever you were. Had you just woken up and everything before waking up in the ATZ wasn’t real? Were you still their prisoner? Was your mind making up lies to help you cope? 

Dread…

Powerless…

Vulnerable…

Ashamed…  

Ashamed you let them get to you so easily. Ashamed you didn’t realize earlier that Monsta X was your stalkers. Ashamed you couldn’t even hear their group name without having a flashback. 

Ashamed. Period…

Something was touching you, something placed on your head. You weren’t able to move away from it, trying to wipe Nightmare’s and Joker’s faces from your vision. 

The piercing sound of piano keys met your ears. It was played loudly, louder than the scenes flashing through your mind. Your vision started to blur. The sound was soft, a slow rhythm that had your heart beating slower in time with the notes. The slow raise of a violin joined along the piano, calm and quaint, a breath of air rushing into your lungs. A low beat of intermittent percussion fading in wasn’t too bold to remind you of the banging on the metal box, reminding you that you had escaped. The vibration of the cymbal brought some feeling back into your arms, electrifying the reminder you were alive . 

The room slowly transitioned from where you were held captive to the low lit space of Pandora. 

Taking in a shaky gasp of air, your entire body shuddered as you came back to reality. 

You felt the pressure of headphones on your head, the song repeating from the beginning. Wonwoo knelt on the floor in front of you, concern gracing his features. You reached up to wipe your face, met only with tears streaming down your cheeks. Your hands shook with panicked energy, feeling your heart slow to a somewhat normal rate. The other said something but the music was too loud and you felt like a bobble head at how dizzy you were. 

It took you a moment to remove the headset, letting the ringing in your ears play out as you refocused on Wonwoo. 

An apology flimsily spilled from your lips and Wonwoo looked…annoyed, but you didn’t think it was at you. 

“Why are you apologizing?” It was a rhetorical question. “ I’m sorry , do you need anything?” 

“Ju-” Your voice broke and you groaned. “Juice sounds amazing-” 

He was gone before you even finished the request, leaving the door to the basement open in his wake. 

You took a moment to bundle yourself back up into the blanket, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. Sniffling to calm your tears, you tried to make yourself small, curling up to seemingly protect yourself. 

“Here.” You didn’t hear him return, flinching some as he placed the small glass of juice down, happy to see the straw in it. “Anything else?” 

“I’m okay, thank you.” You shakily reached for the glass and took a long sip, shivering at how sweet it was. “Just give me a second.” 

Wonwoo sat on the floor in front of you, keeping a watchful eye on you for any issues. You were able to hear the song blasting through the headphone still, letting the ballad’s instrumental continue to ground you. 

“I’m sorry.” Wonwoo repeated, fists balled in his lap. “I didn’t mean-”

“Please don’t tell them yet-” You cut him off, downing the rest of the juice and setting the cup aside. “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle hearing everyone talk about them …nor do I think I’m ready to say it or admit everything yet, I can’t even say it…” 

Wonwoo studied you, his gaze flicking around your person, making you huddle in on yourself more. You heard him sigh and he stood, ruffling his hair in frustration. 

“Fine- Fuck, okay…” He didn’t sound pleased, but he stared down at you. “You promise, when you are ready, you will tell them, right?” 

Nodding, you pulled the blanket up to your chin. “Yeah.”

“Can you…promise you won’t tell them I knew first?” 

If you weren’t so mentally exhausted, you would laugh. “Yeah, promise.” 

“I am, however, going to put some eyes on them if I can.” He held your gaze. “Just so we are clear. No moves, just watching them.” 

“I understand.” You and him stared silently for a beat, only for you to point weakly at the still on TV. “I’m not going to be able to sleep anytime soon…can we continue playing?” 

Disbelief crossed his face but Wonwoo sighed, shaking his head. “Yeah, we can keep playing. I’ll need to sleep eventually though and set up the computer before that.” 

“Okay…I might just stay down here all night though.” You grabbed your controller, watching him take a seat. “Thank you, Wonwoo.” 

“Don’t thank me, I spiraled you into a PTSD episode-”

“No, you fucking idiot, not that. Thank you for getting me out of it, for one thing, and another for understanding.” 

“Oh…you’re welcome.” 

“Now help me kick this boss’s ass.”

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[exquisitexagony]

More laughter as the other shouts over the music, though he can barely make out what he’s saying. It’s hard enough to communicate in a loud room, but add pounding music and dim lighting to the mix and suddenly Sam’s just nodding along half the time. Needless to say, he’s surprised when he drags him past strangers toward another crowd. He slips awkwardly between bodies, wincing a little each time someone brushes up a little too close. The drugs are making it easier to deal with, if he wasn’t so damn intoxicated right now he might just have a panic attack.

When Seb suddenly stops, Sami trips slightly, bumping into his back. Xe hadn’t exactly been expecting the sudden breaks and mumbles an apology as xe rights xemselves only to be grabbed by the shoulders and shaken to xyr core. Xe looks like a bobblehead the way xe’s flopping as Seb shakes xem, blinking wide-eyes with a stupid grin when he yells xyr name. “What?!” Xe laughs, narrowing xyr eyes and tilting xyr head slightly just in time to catch something about the soccer team. Then, before xe knows it, xe’s being dragged along once again.

They sort of stumble along behind Seb, catching his hand as they’re forcefully led to the kitchen. They stand slightly behind their roommate as he exchanges greetings with the other guys, their own gaze sort of wandering for a minute until they’re introduced. They beam and offer similar handshakes to those who hold out a hand or a fist. A bright smile, another laugh squeaking out at Seb’s sheer excitement.

“Absolutely insane,” they agree loudly. “I- I don’t usually show up at these things, you know?! Crazy we both ended up in the same place at the same time!” They didn’t really know anyone here, but everyone seemed to be drinking enough that no one felt like strangers anymore.

"that's what i get for trying to compliment you!" seb practically yells at sami, though it's truly just a mix of alcohol and loud music causing him to speak so loudly. there's no vitriol in seb's tone (for once). he really was a little out of his mind. if sami truly sucked at beer point, he hadn't noticed.

"c'mon! get over here!" sebastian drags them by their arm, pushing past strangers and accidentally getting hit by stray elbows and shoulders as he does so. it doesn't phase him. sebastian approaches crowds at a house party the same way he does in a club - rough, fast, and paying them no mind. it was the way to lead, which he often did.

"sami!" he stops dead in his tracks and reaches to shake xyr shoulders with excitement. "half my soccer team's here. you gotta meet them." without waiting for agreement, sebastian forcefully leads the way to the kitchen area and begins greeting a group of guys with the usual familiarity of teammates: hugs, fist bumps, synchronized handshakes. "everyone - this is my roommate! can you believe it? i came out here tonight and here they were. what a crazy coincidence." only someone with this level of blood alcohol content would fund something so mundane this exciting.