#Many many thoughts that are mostly: I'm about to be so annoying and make so many OCs

[darthwhorecrux]

A/N: I have been kicking around some non-Shinji WIPs and have also been considering taking a break from writing, but this BASTARD (affectionate) of COURSE has ruined my plans AS PER USUAL. As with all of my writing, I'm sure there is so much activity that has inspired this, but what's mainly coming to mind are my talks with @my-my-my about our scarily vivid dreams. may all of our vivid dreams be about our fav men dicking us down. amen 🙏

TW: just a lil bit of your standard smut

Word Count: 2K

Reader is a Visored, and she respects Shinji as her leader. She doesn't have a crush on him or anything though...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

One setting, moment, person seemed to blend into the next, all except him. His toothy grin, his eccentric blonde haircut, his witty humor paired with his hidden tender-heartedness, though once you found it, it was never lost on you again. He was your leader for a reason. Behind all those eye rolls and smartass comments muttered under his breath, he was intensely good-natured, protective, and cared too much. You sought him out for safety and comfort, so much so now that you ended up in his lap, taking him in and out of you with his guidance.

His hands were warm on your hips, and his voice crisp in your ear. "Thaaat's it. Just like that, darlin.' Good girl. Ride my cock sooo good."

"Shinji!" You gasped at his praise and his dirty talk, spasming around him, cheeks heating.

Everything was too warm, too wet, and yet somehow still not enough. He was right here, yet not close enough. You kissed him, fear blossoming in your chest, your drool mixing with his, an emptiness starting to take hold, the cold metallic taste and feel of his piercing just as bittersweet as the emotions flurrying inside your heart.

You had a bad habit of being so afraid of the future, that you missed out on the present. Willing away the moment with worry, your heart became alarmed and you

opened your eyes, alone in bed.

I just had sex with Shinji Hirako, was your first thought upon waking. Shinji fucking Hirako. Though you hadn't really.

It seemed so real. You swore you felt him, warm, wet, and inside of you, spreading you apart. And you heard his voice, his equal parts irritating and alluring voice, his laugh, his groans...

Holy shit.

You jolted upwards, wiping the sweat from your forehead, still processing, or at least trying to, the fact that you dreamt of fucking your de-facto leader, former Captain of the fifth, Shinji Hirako. You hadn't thought of him that way before, or perhaps this wet dream brought to light that you had and simply chose to remain ignorant to it. So many opposing thoughts and feelings clashed inside of you, making you pull the covers up higher and clench your thighs together, ashamed that your mind had conjured up something so filthy about him of all people.

You'd known Shinji since your days back in the Seireitei, and you were sure, all this time, that you knew how you felt about him. He was always above you, the Captain, and now your unofficial leader of the Visoreds. He was also a dork. Goofy, flippant, and mostly obnoxious, he definitely knew how to get under your's and mostly everyone's skin. But for all of his silly and immature antics, he knew his shit and knew when to get serious, and for that you respected him. He could be annoying, but you trusted and relied on him. You admired him, sure, but you didn't like him.

Or so you thought.

It was incredible, how one, possibly meaningless, dream had you questioning everything. You thought of a time he made you laugh recently, how you noticed whenever he made a joke he looked around to see who would laugh, how his eyes always seemed to land on you, how once he made you laugh, he tried to do it again, and again, and he usually succeeded, because you thought mostly everything he said was funny, and how Hiyori would scold you, "don't encourage that dumbass!" or Kensei would roll his eyes at you, "it wasn't that funny..."

You squealed aloud, burying your burning face in your hands. Shit! I do like that idiot!

And now what am I going to do?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Flustered and conflicted, you didn't let that stop you from starting your day the same. You rose from your bed, splashed some cold water on your sweaty, sticky skin and trudged on. There was more to worry about than such trivial feelings.

At least, that was the plan, much easier said than done. It worked well enough until you found yourself alone in the kitchen with him of all people.

Your back turned as you grabbed a glass to fill with water, you recognized that voice and that stupid, sexy accent as he greeted, "Mornin'."

You twitched, reluctantly looking his way to squeak a "good morning," in return before stiffly turning your back to him again, eyes widening at the wall.

The sight of him, his normally perfect hair slightly disheveled from sleep, draped in loose pjs, languidly strolling around, along with the dream version of him, fresh in your mind, plunging into you, calling you his good girl, had your plan coming to a screeching halt. You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head, as if that could shake away the impure thoughts and images invading your mind. It seemed the harder you tried to rid yourself of them, the more intensely they flooded in, bringing heat to your skin and core, weakening your knees and knocking the wind from your chest.

So buried in your thoughts, you hadn't noticed the water trickling over the edge of your glass, overflowing, luckily, into the sink. You gasped and switched the faucet off, drawing the blonde's attention from the other side of the room.

Shinji came up beside you, chuckling quietly as he observed your clumsy accident, oblivious to your inner turmoil. "Looks like someone's still sleepin'," he teased with a smirk before reaching for a towel. "Here."

You stiffened, taking it from him while choking out a small, "thank you."

Looks like someone's still sleepin'. You shuddered. You have no idea. In a way, you were still asleep, dripping and lusting after him. You swallowed down the noises that were threatening to bubble up your throat, making an effort to avoid another wet mess, no matter where it came from.

Shinji narrowed his observant eyes at you, "Ya feelin' alright? Yer lookin' pretty flushed."

He attempted to reach for your forehead, thoughtfully checking for a fever on your skin, but fearing what he could unleash from the simple contact, you flinched away, spilling more water. "I'm fine!"

He raised an accusing eyebrow. "Ya don't seem fine..."

You ignored him, "I'll get it!" You hurried to clean up your second mess before running away, preventing a third.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The rest of the day followed in similar fashion. You ran from Shinji, who seemed especially unavoidable that day, in hopes that he wouldn't notice how you short-circuited, how you stammered and tripped and blushed whenever he neared.

When it came to training, and he conveniently suggested the two of you partner up during a particular drill, you suggested otherwise. "Actually, I think I'll partner with Hiyori."

"Huh?" His eyes widened in disbelief. "Who would want that?!"

Of course, that only earned him a sandal to the face. "Hey! Maybe she just doesn't want to have to put up with you for a change, Baldy!"

Then, when it came lunch time, and it wasn't your turn to make it for everyone, most of the group seemed surprised to find you volunteering to help Mashiro fetch takeout, offering some lousy excuse about worrying that she'll screw something up. You felt Shinji's eyes on you then, watching you go, oblivious to his concerned gaze.

It seemed the final straw was when you ended up alone with him again that evening, and he attempted to crack a joke to ease the obvious tension that had transpired between the two of you all of a sudden. You hardly laughed, forcing an unnatural smile out of pity. And you always laughed, genuinely, at his jokes. When you were on your way out again, this time, he caught your wrist, stopping you before you could escape. You tensed, eyeing the spot where his warm hand curled around you, lighting your body on fire as you remembered his warm hands on your hips, guiding your movements.

He quickly snatched his hand back, opting to scratch the back of his neck. "Did I do somethin'?" He asked warily. "Kinda feels like ya've been avoiding me all day."

At his sheepish expression, your heart sank. You never intended to make him feel bothersome, but you hadn't wanted him to know the truth either.

"No!" You chirped a little too brightly, your first instinct to continue to deny, deny, deny. "You haven't done anything," you assured, flashing him a crooked smile.

He frowned, physically deflating before forcing himself into a neutral state, throwing his walls up if you were going to keep up yours. "I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable somehow," he stated. "Anyways, I'll leave ya to it..."

You almost let him leave, watching him depart with a sense of relief. But you held a stronger sense of guilt watching him shrink away, his gaze cast down, thinking he'd done something wrong. It tugged on your heartstrings, hard. It was you who caught his wrist this time, stopping him from getting away. This couldn't go on for the rest of your long lives, and Shinji deserved better. He was good to you - always - it was no wonder he'd managed to invade your dreams. It was the least you could do to try to be good to him too.

When he turned back, raising his eyebrows hopefully at you, your flustered state returned. At a loss for words, not planning this far ahead, you thought again of the feeling between your legs this morning, of him like that.

You dropped his wrist and sighed, brows furrowing, twitching away those thoughts again. Focus.

"It's not you, it's me," you blurted.

Confused, Shinji raised an eyebrow. "Uhh...? Are we breakin' up? From a relationship I didn't know we were in?" He joked.

Exasperated, with him, yourself, and the entire, weird day, you sighed. "No. I - something happened, and it's just made me feel all confused and weird." You twiddled your thumbs, avoiding his penetrating, perceptive stare, those same eyes that haunted you in your sleep. "I'm trying to say - it isn't your fault. I'm sorry I've been acting so avoidant."

"Hm," Shinji hummed thoughtfully. "Do ya wanna talk about it or...?"

His innocent suggestion made you blush deeply. "I'm afraid you won't look at me the same."

You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, watching his eyes light up with curiosity. "Try me," he challenged, grinning devilishly.

Your eyes widened. Crazily enough, for a moment, you considered it.

"I can't," you decided, too fearful of the consequences.

"C'monnn," he whined. "I'm not gonna judge. Ya know me," he assured seriously.

In spite of yourself, you reconsidered it. Maybe getting it off of your chest was what you needed. Trying to ignore it certainly wasn't working, and it was Shinji after all. You did know him. Maybe together, the both of you could laugh it off and go back to normal.

But do I really even want that? Back to normal?

He continued to stare at you, waiting. He even started to tap his foot, grinning slightly when you glared at him.

"You're the worst," you grumbled, though it was obvious you thought quite the opposite. "You don't tell anyone what I'm about to say," you voiced sternly. "Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckled. "I won't say a word. Now out with it."

You sighed again, resigning yourself to your fate. You had prolonged this for long enough.

"I had a dream about you last night."

Shinji narrowed his eyes at you. "That's it?" He scoffed. "That's what ya were so worried about? I dream about you, about everyone, all the time." He shrugged.

You groaned, covering your face. "You're really gonna make me say it...?"

"Say wha-" He caught himself, realizing before he could finish. "Oh. Oh."

You peeked at him through your hands, only to find that obnoxiously attractive smirk spreading on his dumb, pretty face. It had you squealing, shutting your fingers back up, blocking out the sight.

"Was I good?" He asked, gently prying your hand away from your face.

"It wasn't real!" You defended, sweating as you swatted him away. "It doesn't mean anything!"

"Yeah? Then what were ya so hot and bothered for - all day?" Shinji continued to tease, seeming to enjoy how riled up he got you.

"Anyone would be flustered!" You fretted. "How - how would you feel if you dreamt of me like that? Huh?!"

He kept his composure, stepping closer to speak more quietly. "Well, for the record, I don't think I'd mind makin' yer dreams come true."

You froze, eyes widening, wondering if you were dreaming again. His eyes followed your hand, pinching yourself, and he chuckled.

"This is the real deal," he confirmed. "If ya ever wanna discuss it in more detail, or try anything out, ya know where to find me, baby doll."

And with that, like the fucking tease he was, he left you, the ball in your court, up to you to make the next move.

To make your dreams come true.

┆　┆　┆　┆　┆

┆　┆ ࣪ ˖☆ ࣪⭑┆ ݁˖ .☆ . ݁ ˖

☆⊹ ࣪ ┆ ˖ ࣪　⊹ ࣪ ★ ⋆.˚ ⊹ ࣪

࣪ ˖⋆˚★ ₊ ⊹　 ࣪˖ ࣪ ₊ ࣪ ˖　

. ݁　⊹ ࣪ ˖　　　 ࣪ ˖

　　. ݁　　　 ݁

　　.

If you're only dreamin'

Why I hear you screamin'? 😈

Sweet dreams, lovebugs (ᴗ˳ᴗ)ᶻ𝗓𐰁

[teaandinanity]

In PZ I am now in the absolutely FASCINATING position of possibly having too many calories. Because one (1) of my sheep has some kind of mutation (I checked her genetics in debug bc I was like 'that cannot be normal') where she produces enough milk for like THREE STICKS OF BUTTER PER DIEM. ON HER OWN.

Bless Butterball, literally all I will need to make it through winter (if I survive that long) fat and happy is her and the fishing pond.

However, I have her and chickens and several other sheep and some cows.

The cows are not producing milk, unsure what's up with that, but like. They do not need to. They can just produce more cows, eventually. Even that's not that important because I have traps and the aforementioned fishing pond.

[ceramicbeetle]

one of the many reasons Aabria is such a good GM is because of the very keen eye she keeps on the social dynamics and interactions that happens at the table and i absolutely Love her for it

[mywritersmind]

NOT ONE TO GIVE UP - LN4

summary : in which… a specific nosy neighbor can’t stop flirting.

listen up : lando norris is persistent! slight sex talk.

words : 2327

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Girl… come on.” My best friend rolls her eyes at me, sipping her drink while I scoff.

“What?” I say, even though I already know what she’s going to tell me.

“He’s hot!” She practically yells, “You should go for him.”

The ‘he’ in question is my neighbor who annoys me to no end. Mostly known as Lando Norris.

I shake my head, the image of his curly hair and wide smile appearing in my head from just seconds before when he came to ask me for sugar. I mean seriously, sugar!? We’re not in some story tail. “No way!”

She groans, “Why not? He clearly has a thing for you!”

It’s true. He does clearly have a thing for me. He’s cute and all, don’t get me wrong- but I just can’t.

“Come on.” I sigh, “I don’t go for guys like that.”

“Hot, genuinely kind, sexy, rich men?” I swear to god she already prepared that line.

“He’s a player! I’d be like a toy. Plus, I don’t like him!” She scoffs as if it’s the biggest lie she’s ever head.

“What don’t you like about him?”

“He’s arrogant-”

“Wants to show off for you!” She corrects me.

“And loud!”

She smirks, “Sounds like he’s fun!”

I eye her, “And he’s always bugging me!” Crossing my arms, I sit back in my chair, “Trust me. I will never go out with Lando Norris.”

⋆༺

Three weeks later, after many quiet nights, I yell at him to stop the elevator. Of course, I didn’t know it was him.

But the slip of a man’s tanned and veiny hand into the closing doors made me know instantly. He’s smiling when I walk in. “Need help?”

His tone is casual while I probably look like an idiot trying to hold all my bags. “No- I’m good!” He doesn't listen, grabbing three of my four grocery bags out of my hands like it’s nothing. “I- thanks… I’m having a dinner party.”

I say it as if I'm ashamed to be buying so much food. He doesn’t even blink. “That’s fun.” For a second, I worry he’s going to invite himself, “What are you making?”

He lets me talk the full minute it takes for us to get to our floor, letting me walk ahead while he still holds onto my bags.

I haven’t seen him in a while, he looks tanner, maybe a bit tired too. “Thanks for the help.” I smile as I open my door, reaching out to take the bags but he practically pushes right past me!

“You look like you’d fall over if you held all of them again.” He looks around before finding the kitchen and setting them down on the counter. “Nice place.”

I eye him, “Thanks.”

“It’s very… you.” His eyes still wander and I realize I hate the thought of him seeing my space, especially when it hasn’t been cleaned.

I raise a brow, “You don’t even know me.”

“More of a vibe thing.” He walks towards the door, turning around as he holds the door handle to look at me, “Though if you want me to know you more i’d be more than happy.” He winks at me before shutting the door.

⋆༺

I bang on his door after exactly two nights of uninterrupted sleep. He opens it with a wide grin and a far too awake face for three in the morning. “Lando. I can hear you.”

“Sorry, love.” After I blink at the nickname, I realize he’s not wearing a shirt. He leans against the doorframe when I drag my eyes away from his annoyingly perfect body and back to his annoyingly perfect face.

“What are you even doing?” I cross my arms.

He looks almost surprised at my question, “Um… streaming.”

“Streaming involves gun shots?” I say as his brow quirks, “We share a wall, you know.”

“Have you ever heard…” He trails off as if I'm going to understand immediately. When I don’t, he comes right out with it, “Sex stuff?”

My face goes red, I know it because I can feel my cheeks heat and because Lando’s smile grows. “No!” I say it louder than necessary.

“Okay. Just wondering.” He bites his lip, his gaze feeling much more loaded now, “Well, if you ever want to, let me know.”

I groan and walk back to my door, “Goodnight Lando!”

I can practically hear the smirk in his voice, “Night, love.”

⋆༺

I see him on TV a week later. I’m sat on my couch, trying to stop crying over the movie I just finished, and skipping through channels.

I almost miss it. I click past. But I go back once my teary eyes realize what I saw.

It’s Lando. He’s holding a microphone, in his race suit, with a sad look on his face. I’ve never seen him so down, but then again whenever I see him, it’s when he’s flirting with me.

I honestly have no clue what he’s talking about, too focused on how his eyes droop a bit and how his curls are clearly flattened from his helmet. I don’t know a lot about F1, but I suddenly want to know more.

⋆༺

“Hey!” I hear my name in the bar, expecting it to be one of my friends but when I turn- it’s definitely not. Lando is making his way through the crowd, in all black and holding a beer.

“Oh- hey.” My best friend eyes the exact moment he stops in front of me, her eyes wide as she leaves me to fend for myself.

Okay so maybe I don’t hate Lando. Besides the late night gaming, he’s not all that bad considering he’s gone almost every week.

“You look good.” He says it so quick, I wonder how drunk he is. He’s staring at my skirt, at my legs.

“I tried.”

He smiles and something weird happens in my body, his eyes meeting mine, “You don’t even have to try, You always look good.”

I start to say something but fall short when I realize I don’t really know how to respond to that. I’m saved from responding when a hand finds my waist.

One tiny thing I coincidentally forgot when Lando came into view, I'm here with my friends, and a date.

I honestly should have cancelled. I should have not texted back but my friend did it for me, saying I should ‘get out there’. The second he looks at Lando, I regret inviting him out.

“Hey man.” He’s blonde, cute in every way that Lando is pretty. He’s slim, taller than Lando and I and when he holds out his hand, I feel a little nauseous.

I don’t know why! It’s not like Lando is my ex or my new man, it’s just… awkward. Lando’s face is hard, shaking his hand cordially.

“Nice grip you got there.” My date shakes his hand as if Lando just hurt him, the brunette just smiles.

“Sorry. Instinct.” I have a horrible thought about how strong Lando really is- something I shake away with the clearing of my throat.

Lando beats me to it. “Are you her boyfriend, then?” I cringe at his words and take a big gulp of my drink. It’s weird enough seeing him out of our apartment complex, but him talking to my date is ten times worse.

“Nah. Not yet.” He jokes, making me genuinely want to scream and run away, “Easy to see myself as that though!”

Lando doesn’t laugh when my date does. But he does look back at me, “Didn’t know you were into blondes.”

“Didn’t know you knew my type.”

He tilts his head a bit, bringing the bottle to his curved lips, “I think we both know I do.”

My date frowns, “You're not into blondes?”

⋆༺

I’ve seen Lando too many times in the past week. He’s clearly back for god knows how long, and has taken it upon himself to bug me.

“I thought you had friends, Norris. Why ask me?” I sigh, looking at him standing outside of his apartment.

“Because my friends aren’t as pretty as you.” He shrugs, his hands sliding into his pockets, “Please?”

“I’m not going out with you.” He asked me to a new dinner place that he wants to try. I said no.

“Why not?”

“I’m busy.”

He scoffs, “I didn’t even give you a time.”

“You don’t take rejection very well.” I cross my arms, watching him shrug.

“Maybe because I don’t think you mean it.”

I roll my eyes even though i’m not as annoyed as I should be, “Not everyone is going to fall at your feet, Lando.”

“That’s why I asked you. You’re very clearly still standing up.” I bite my lip, shaking my head.

“Go call one of your fuck buddies.” I turn back to my door.

“If I do that, you really will start to hear sex noises!”

“Go ahead! I bought earplugs!”

⋆༺

The next time I see Lando, he’s got the same face as I saw on TV. He’s sitting on the floor outside of his apartment. “Are you okay?”

His eyes dart to me. “Oh. Hi, love. Yeah- I lost my key.” His eyes are bloodshot. “Locksmith should be here soon.” His voice is less enthusiastic today.

I turn my own key in my door, “Oh. Well… want to come in?”

And that is how Lando Norris ended up on my couch eating my leftover spaghetti. He’s overly appreciative, growing quiet only after I ask him if he’s okay again.

“Triple header. Wasn’t great. Just wanna sleep.” He sighs, shoving his fork in his mouth.

“You can here.” I don’t know why I'm being so open, maybe it’s because he looks like a wounded baby bird.

“Nah… I can never sleep after racing.” He shrugs like it’s the most normal thing in the world, “That’s why I game so much.”

“Oh.” Is all I can say. I’m not good at this. Not good at responding to people’s feelings. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love it-” he yawns, “Just a lot sometimes.”

“If you ever need someone to water your plants or take care of anything- I can help.”

He smiles softly, his head tilted back on the couch, “I can barely keep myself alive when I'm in town. But thanks, you’re really nice.”

“Why do you flirt with me?” I say it so suddenly that I think it surprises us both.

“That wasn’t flirting, you really are nice.”

“No- I mean calling me love and complimenting me and stuff.”

He shrugs, “Why does anybody flirt with someone else? I like you.” Lando’s phone rings in the moments of silence that follows, he picks it up and after a few words, he stands. “Locksmiths here. I’ll knock if I ever get a plant.”

⋆༺

I see him one week later, he’s waiting by my door with a piece of paper in hand. “You’re back.” Is how I greet him. After that day in my apartment, I haven’t seen or heard him.

“I am.” He smiles, “I got this for you.” he hands me the paper and I realize that it’s a postcard. It’s from Italy, with a scene of a race track on the front.

When I turn it around, I’m a bit shocked that he’s written anything at all.

It reads,

Hi love, Lando here. Obviously… Anyways I wanted to buy a postcard but couldn’t think of anyone but you that would like it. (I saw the cards on your fridge when I was there) so I hope you do. Like it, I mean. I wanted to say something cool like ‘I won here!!’ but I got second so that’ll have to be the next postcard you get. Hope you still think i’m cool (honestly i don’t know if you ever did) also here’s my number if you ever need it, or want it. use it, please.

He’s still standing in front of me when I finish. I can’t help but smile. “P2 is still great.”

“The only part you focused on is how I didn’t win?” He frowns as my smile grows.

“I see the number too.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, “Good. That’s my favorite part.”

“You really don’t give up, huh?”

“I’m no quitter.”

“Why do you want to go out with me so bad? Did you run out of girls in Monaco?” The second I finish talking, I feel bad.

But he doesn’t look offended, “I don’t understand why you can’t grasp the idea of me wanting you. I mean- I’m pretty obvious about it! I think you’re really funny and nice even when you’re trying to be mean. I also made it clear to both of us when I met that tall fucker in the bar, way too ugly for you, by the way.”

“Lando.”

“The point is, I want to take you out on a proper date because I think you’re beautiful and, yeah, probably too good for me but maybe I can make up for it if you say yes.”

I shake my head but my smile stays, “I’m not too good for you.” He starts to argue but I shut him up, “I’ll go out with you.”

His eyes brighten, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I roll my eyes, not really believing myself. But then again, I look at him and I can’t remember why I ever said no.

“Okay.” He looks at his shoes, “Great! I’ll uh- or I guess you can text me. Or I can! Or-”

“Or you can come knock on my door tonight at seven.” He’s smiling fully now, nodding.

“Sounds good.”

I stand on my toes to kiss his cheek, “I like guys who don’t give up.”

“You weren’t annoyed by me?”

“Oh I was annoyed!” I laugh as his jaw drops a bit, “You just happen to be charming at the same time.

[poguelandiarafe]

red carpet reveal | drew starkey

pairing - drew starkey x gf!reader

warnings - none

summary - drew brings you to the outer banks season four premiere even though you're relationship is still under wraps. well, until it isn't thanks to a pushy reporter.

masterlist

--------

the 'outer banks' premiere is in full swing and you're so grateful you get to experience it with drew for the first time. you're buzzing with excitement, the flashing of cameras and excited fans screaming as the cast makes their way onto the red carpet feels surreal.

"you doing okay?" drew asks, gently squeezing your hand.

you nod, looking up at him with a smile, "more than. go shine you superstar."

he chuckles and his hand gives you another comforting squeeze before letting it go and opting to rest it on your back. the way he looks in that suit, flashing his signature smile to the cameras, makes you wonder how the hell you even let him out of the hotel room.

as drew is ushered into many different interviews, you keep to yourself, staying mostly in the background and out of shot. you don't mind this, always having preferred to watch him in his element. he talks with so much passion and excitement that you could, and do, listen to him for hours on end.

the night seems to be going perfectly until it's not. the problem? a leggy blonde who's seemed to make it her life's mission to interview your boyfriend. you claim to not be the jealous type, but you can already tell the type of questions she's going to ask by the way she stalks over to him, eyes not so subtly looking him up and down with an exaggerated smile on her face.

"so, drew," she begins, her voice already annoying you, "you're looking very handsome tonight. outer banks season four! what's it like to still be playing the hottest character on the show? you are literally the internet's boyfriend right now."

he's here with you, don't let it get to you are the words that keep repeating in your head as drew politely answers the question, but you know she's attempting to flirt with him.

"what does your family think of the show? i'm assuming they're very proud," her eyes briefly flicker over to you and she turns her attention to you, "you must be such a proud sister, right?"

you scoff, not only at the question but at the condescending way she's talking to you, like you're a child.

"uh... she's not my sister actually." drew chuckles awkwardly, his free hand coming up to scratch at his neck.

her eyebrows raise in surprise before her shrill voice cuts through the air, "oh sorry! well, it's so thoughtful of you to bring your friend to the event."

yes, you've both agreed to not directly make your relationship public, but god did you want to set the record straight. the way her hand kept grabbing his arm throughout the whole interview is making your blood boil.

before you can say anything, the interview continues and she pays you no more attention. drew's patience for this is wearing thin, but he's determined to remain professional, not wanting to go viral for lashing out at someone for doing their job.

"coming back to my earlier point about being the internet's boyfriend, how's the love life? tell us, do you have your own sofia yet or are you still available?" the interviewer asks, playful flirtation coating the words as they leave her lips.

drew's arm unloops from yours and slides around your waist to pull you slightly closer to him. he's not trying to out your relationship, just reminding you he's there.

his eyes narrow slightly in annoyance at the question, "i... uh, well it's my personal life. wanna keep it personal."

"come on, not even an inkling of an answer?" she insists.

you've had enough of this woman and, quite frankly, drew has to. he's ready to walk off but you don't let him, instead moving to face him with your back to her.

"what are you doing?" drew leans down, whispering in your ear.

before you let yourself overthink what you're doing, you grab the back of his head and pull him into a kiss. everyone around you is in shock. cameras are all turning toward the two of you, and the fans are screaming even louder now. the kiss isn't a subtle peck or quick goodbye kiss. no, it's a kiss that is telling the world he's yours and no amount of bad flirting will take him away from you.

when you pull back, your cheeks are flushed and drew has a stunned smile on his face. your eyes suddenly widen as the realisation hits you like a train of what you just did, and he can tell that a million thoughts are going through your head.

"hey, stop overthinking it. i'm glad you did it," he starts before whispering, "meant she finally shut up and stopped trying to flirt with me."

relief washes over you and your tense shoulders drop as you let yourself relax. you don't even want to think about the social media reaction right now.

"umm," the interviewer clears her throat, "i guess that answers the question."

you grab drew's hand before looking back at the woman, "i think we're done here."

[eunandonly]

⟡ ── after an argument

hyung line x fem. reader | what they do to apologise after an argument

genre: fluff, est. relationship | wc. 0.9k ♡ a/n: this is my first writing ever so i'm not sure it's good but support is appreciated!! <3

lee heeseung

"y/n, i'm sorry."

even though it had been your boyfriend's apology you had so desperately wanted, you found yourself tilting your position ever so slightly away from him. you were still not ready to forgive him completely, not after the argument you two had yesterday. it was going to take much more than a simple sorry to win back your heart. the words he had said had been hurtful, and the day had been filled with tension that had only just eased a bit by heeseung's apology. — more under cut!

"y/n, please, i'm sorry for what i said yesterday. i know it was wrong of me. i don't know what i was thinking, saying stuff like that." heeseung tried again, resting his warm hand on your shoulder.

it was the tone of his voice that made you soften. you could tell he truly felt bad for what had happened. when heeseung noticed that you weren't shrugging his hand off, he immediately engulfed you in a hug, giving you soft pecks on your cheek.

"i'm so sorry, baby." he mumbled against the fabric of your hoodie, his chest pressed against your back and his faced buried behind in the crook of your neck. you leaned into his soft touch, smiling despite yourself and he murmured sweet nothings in your ear.

park jongseong

you were startled by the warmth of jay's presence as he stood close behind you, lifting your hair up gently before putting a necklace around your neck without a word.

"jay? what are you doing?" you asked, placing a hand on the necklace he had just clasped on, trying to get a look at it.

"it's a gift for you," jay said quietly, his touch lingering for a few seconds even after he was done with the necklace as if he was scared to let go. "i felt so bad for yelling at you last night. i'm so sorry love, i shouldn't have done that."

you had already forgiven jay for what he had said last night, though you hadn’t told him directly. it had mostly been your fault but you had still gotten mad at your boyfriend.

you saw a glimpse of a flash of gold from the reflection of the window, and you turned to face jay. "you didn't have to do that. it was my fault, bringing it up after such a long time when you were tired."

jay bent down to your height, giving you a warm smile before kissing you on the forehead, his hands around your waist.

"anything for my princess."

sim jaeyun

even though you had your back turned to your boyfriend jake, still annoyed about the petty little argument you two had had that morning, jake was clinging onto you more than ever. he had his arms around you, rambling random things and apologies over and over again. the topics varied, from funny anecdotes and random thoughts and he had said at least a million apologies.

“jake, i’m still mad. like really, really mad. and it doesn’t matter how many puppy eyes you give me because it’s not going to work.”

jake snuggled up even closer to you, and you tried to push him away, but he persisted. “i’m sorry, y/n, i’m very, very sorry.”

you smiled despite yourself, turning your head away so he wouldn’t be able to see the way the corners of your lips were curling up without permission. “i’m still angry.”

you could practically imagine jake’s pout and the kind of expression he was making.

“come on y/n, i’m sorry i ate your chocolate ice cream, i’ll buy you a new one today, i promise. i’ll buy you two.”

when he got no response from you, he hugged you a little bit tighter before tickling you, making you laugh.

"okay," you gasped between laughs, trying to get away from jake. "okay, but you better buy me that ice cream."

park sunghoon

when you arrived home, still upset about the argument you had had with your boyfriend sunghoon last night, you found a small white box waiting for you on your desk. it was carefully wrapped, laced ribbons and all. curious to see what it was, you put down your bag and unravelled the ribbon and gently opened the box lid to find rows of chocolate wrapped in pretty silver wrappers and a little note written in sunghoon’s handwriting. 

an apology note.

perhaps this was sunghoon's way of saying to sorry to you, your shy yet caring boyfriend. it was rather sweet, and you felt your anger melt away.

you immediately dialled his number on your phone, and it barely rang before he picked up. perhaps he had been waiting for your call, and that made you smile.

“uhm, i got the chocolate you left for me,” you said, reading the note he had written. “thank you, and i’m sorry for getting mad at you yesterday, i know you have a lot going on right now.”

hearing sunghoon’s soft voice at the end of the line was comforting. “you shouldn’t apologise, i yelled at you for no reason. enjoy the chocolates, i’ll be back soon. um, i love you.”

you smiled as you bit into the chocolate. "love you too. give me lots of kisses when you come back. i miss you.”

[ddejavvu]

no cause now I'm thinking about Garcia freaking out when Spencer comes to work with a smartphone and asking him what made him finally get one after years of her asking him too and Spence just going bright red and stammering trying to think of a reason that isn't related to your nudes 🤭

part 1

--

Spencer's text tone is what gives him away, because he's not interested enough in the device to use it for anything other than necessity. But the familiar whistle has everyone digging in their pockets until they see Spencer reaching into his own bag.

"Reid, I don't think it's your landline," Prentiss snickers, checking her own phone to find a blank screen.

"I got a new phone yesterday." Spencer grumbles, "And I keep forgetting to ask Y/N how to turn the sounds off."

Penelope blinks at Spencer owlishly as he retracts a brand new, shiny iPhone from his messenger bag, default background shining especially bright against the dark wood table. She'll tell him later that it's the switch on the left side, but now she gawps, "Spencer, you got a new phone?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" He already looks mildly annoyed at the teasing, probably because he'd stubbornly stuck to his outdated mobile for so long that his pride has an iPhone-shaped bruise.

"What made you make the change?" Hotch asks, voice gentler but curious all the same.

"Yeah, I've been begging you for, like, years, Reid." Garcia frowns, "Texting me isn't really texting me if I can't send you gifs from the gif keyboard."

"She favors the one of the dancing baby," Rossi drawls, "But I'm sure that's not what Dr. Reid felt compelled to upgrade for."

The notification that's displayed across his screen is a message from you, but that's predictable because he'd adamantly refused to get notifications from anything but text messages and calls. He's still partial to his newspapers, and he won't fill an online grocery cart if he can help it.

'Y/N: Attachment: 1 image'

There's not much he can see from the little thumbnail to the right of the notification, but- it's enough. It's the color of your skin, mostly the color of your skin, with splashes of red in between. He knows he can't open it now, and he wishes he had just a little more experience with situations like this so that he could maintain some composure.

"Uhm," He starts, cheeks most likely bright pink, "I don't know, I just- I just thought it was time, probably. Y/N says she didn't like that my messages were green."

"Oh, it's Y/N," Morgan croons, and JJ consoles Garcia with a sympathetic smile and a pat to the arm.

"Well-! And, and it's good for the GPS, but I do still prefer paper maps," Spencer rambles, "And it's- it's nice to see how many literary-themed emailing lists there are."

"Emailing lists," Morgan scoffs, "Pretty boy, you're signing up for spam. But whatever text has got you blushing there isn't about Shakespeare. Just let me know when you need a lesson in taking your own pictures, m'kay? She doesn't want weird angles or bad lighting, trust me."

[rosesnbooks]

Astrology observations #5🖤

🌜I wrote these for fun, based on how i see these placements. i'm not a professional! hope you enjoy these🌛

⭐cancer placements allow themselves to feel their emotions. they may get annoyed by the intensity or the amount of them, but they process them fully, and this makes it easier for them to move on. random thought but writing letters to people they like may be something they do or did as kids haha. they're very romantic

⭐some aries venuses have obsessive tendencies when they have a crush, and they get frustrated a lot if they think they can't/shouldn't pursue them. they enjoy the tension, but they don't want it to last too long because they dislike not being in control, and having feelings for someone leaves them feeling too vulnerable. that's why they try to move on if they can, but it takes work. when they do find someone, they become really clingy but they still need freedom when it suits them

⭐mars in libra avoid conflicts and try to be reasonable about everything, but if they think you crossed a line, you'll see why aries is their sister sign pretty soon. once they tell you off, you'll never see them the same way, so underrestimate them at your cost

⭐having stelliums can be interesting. it for sure puts a lot of emphasis on the influence of that house on your life, and i found that it can be both positive and negative since they face lots of challenges related to their house but also many blessings. those who have stelliums kind of embody multiple characteristics simultaneously

⭐sun in the 11th people glow when they are with their closest friends. they also tend to dream big and care a lot about the world. their friends usually help them in their future goals. they feel a bit different than people in their hometown/country, mostly because they cannot be tied down to a single culture because they enjoy different things, which usually makes them quite open-minded and tolerant. they can be picky about the people they let in super close though

⭐mars in the 6th can procrastinate a lot actually, but they get things done. may get sudden waves of high energy and get things done rapidly and extensively. they expect a lot from themselves regarding their ambitions and aspirations. they try to improve themselves in any way most of the time, but they should also accept their current state if they want to evolve and love themselves. they need to watch out for their moral perfectionism too. it's okay to make mistakes as long as you apologise and strive to change for the better

⭐i've found that virgo mercuries can be really direct, even if they are shy or don't talk much around strangers or acquaintances, they have their moments. super funny too

⭐north node in cancer struggle with accepting their vulnerable side. they hate feeling like things and people can evoke strong emotions in them. they want to be more detached, but those that work on themselves find it very rewarding once they embrace their strong emotions. they can also be really reliable, practical, and thoughtful

⭐fire+water combinations in birth charts-i am sending you a hug. i know exactly how difficult it is to keep all those emotions under check, and that you need a lot of understanding and rest to function. use those emotions and passions well hun, you are strong and capable. you have a lot of empathy and wonder inside of you

⭐capricorn sun/mercury have a dry way of texting. their humor is difficult to read via text and they simply are not fans of texting, and it shows lol

⭐aries mercuries are not always available online and they may come and go when they're online, but they'll answer all of your messages one by one with lots of enthusiasm. they also like to send memes and joke around a lot

⭐virgo mercuries are not fans of texting and they can answer you after a couple of days or so even if they really like you. similarly to aries, they'll make sure they answer everything and they also pay attention to every detail you mention. very sweet really. their humor shines brighter in person

⭐taurus moon are very capable. they may prefer rest over anything else, but their patience and dedication to the things they need to do is really cool. they are calm most of the time so it's nice to be around them, just don't disrespect them and everyone will thrive

⭐taurus venus men can be really possessive. even if you like such behavior, some can go to extremes and try to control how you feel, think, and behave. they have a specific image of an ideal partner and they want you to fulfill it

⭐libra venus tend to care about how they look and present themselves so they put lots of effort into that. they also have standards when it comes to beauty and some expect others to dress and look well, whether they know them or not

⭐women with venus in aquarius-you may be attracted to men who are mysterious and act like they're special. just be careful because there are so many toxic ones out there who want a relationship but not truly, because they don't want to dedicate themselves to you and maybe plan on using you

⭐pisces moon can feel like they're drowning in their own emotions sometimes because they cannot control them easily and they tend to give in. if they like to portray themselves as a martyr these emotions can get out of hand because they let those emotions lead them which influences their mental health and relationships. those who are developed process these emotions and try to figure them out and let them pass. they can learn a lot about themselves and others this way. creative outlets can be of help to process this

⭐leo moon need to watch out for hurting people when their ego is hurt because they can lash out and make lots of damage. take a second to think whether it's worth it or not, since there is no point in trying to "win" in a fight with someone you love

⭐pisces mars can be too forgiving, especially to those they care about. don't let people walk over you dear, no matter who they are. nobody deserves that kind of treatment

thank you for reading!🤍i also offer paid astrology readings, so check out my blog for more info

©rosesnbooks

[messenger-of-babel]

Could you write about the sweetheart grips? Soldiers in ww2 used to put photos of their lovers on the grips of their guns and I think that would be cute with Jason.

Eye for An Eye

Summary: Jason keeps a photo of you in his gun to keep you close to him, even in his hardest moments. (Jason Todd x reader)

Word Count: 2.7K

Notes: dear anon I really, really wanted to make this sweet. But then I got an angst idea and- I tried to do it justice without too many tears. Forehead kisses for you because as soon as you sent this in I legit thought about this idea for like three days straight I fell in love with the concept. I might use it again for other Jason fics you got me hooked (I was a MASSIVE military history nerd). Warnings for description of violence and injury, character death, some choppy writing. Back onto my angst train, I'm so sorry y'all (I'll write this concept sweeter sometime, I SWEAR).

ALSO HAPPY 100 POSTS. It's crazy when I remember I'm still a baby blog. <3

Enjoy~! RiRi xoxo <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bruce had never been one for guns, and while Jason was Robin, he hadn't either.

He didn't consider himself a particularly violent child or had any real craving to use weapons. After all, he never really hit anyone who didn't deserve it, and he got great satisfaction of getting back at people who thought they could hurt innocent civilians just because they were bigger and older than him.

That was until he was taken by Joker and showed just how much hurt someone older and bigger than could inflict.

April 27th, the date that the Joker killed Jason Todd.

Now, he couldn’t imagine his hands without the comforting grip of his pistol. The grips were designed just for him, slotting into the contours of his fingers and worn away in the areas he instinctually rubbed. They were wide so they sat snug in his large palms, with a coarse texture in the areas he habitually flexed. The grip allowed it to stick to his gloves for a steadier shot while it would simply irritate anyone else who tried to hold them.

Everyone knew that those guns were Jasons, but nothing said it quite like the new addition of the faded photo tucked into the grips. The colt's had originally come with wooden handgrips, which were quickly removed while he made his modifications.

"You know the Bat isn't gonna be happy with you getting another set of guns." Dick calls out, approaching his worktable in the cave. Jason just grunts at him over his shoulder, making sure he keeps the screws where he can see them.

"Bruce can honestly suck it up." he huffs, the mention of the Bat souring his demeanour immediately. Jason had wanted to do this in his apartment for this exact same reason. He knew Stephanie would annoy him with questions if she caught sight of him, and that Tim would interject constantly with 'improvements' he deemed necessary. Duke he could deal with, and Cass would leave him well enough alone.

Dick and Damian just managed to piss him off simply existing sometimes.

Mostly when he was already in a bad mood.

His older brother trots down the stairs, a frown forming on his face as he puts his hands on his hips to observe.

"Quiet." Jason mumbles flatly, knowing the older vigilante was giving him a disapproving stare. Dick ignores him, eyeing the photo tucked up near his water bottle.

"Jason," he says, voice a warning tone.

"I said quiet." he cuts off, wiping the area down with a damp cloth. Dick just sighs behind him as Jason gingerly picks up the photo, rubbing his calloused thumbs over it. Dick wants to say something as he eyes the photo but can't bring himself to speak above the block in his chest. He watches the tension ease from his brother’s shoulders, the muscles that had been stiffly held by his ears for weeks. The scowl he wore softened slightly, and he could actually hear him exhale for once instead of wondering if his chest actually was moving or not. Instead, Dick sighs in reluctance, giving in. Dick watches him with sad eyes, clapping a hand on his shoulder with a slight squeeze. "Don't forget to, you know," he leans forward slightly and draws a circle with his finger on a certain point of the photo. Jason's face ripples with a flash of pain, but he watches his younger brother grit his teeth and nod.

"Look after yourself, Jay." he murmurs, pulling back. "Don't do anything stupid."

Jason waits a little bit before turning back the photo, ensuring that Dick had left the cave. A still silence settled over the dim space once more. It didn't help the hum in his head, making his fingers and muscles shake, the white noise refusing to settle in his conscious. He gently drew on the photo of you with pencil, tracing the shape that he needed for the grip and ensuring that you weren't cut out by accident.

It was a favourite photo of his, taken at one of Bruce's galas. He hadn't wanted to go, hardly showing to the events in the first place. "Full of rich idiots trying to get even richer." he had told you, tossing a look over his shoulder to you. You were standing at the door, holding the invite that had been slipped through the mail slot. You waved the thick cardstock, a small smile on your face. "Aw, but I was kinda looking forward to going." you say, looking over the details. "I think it'll be fun."

"The only one who thinks those things are fun are Dick and Steph if she's around. Tim will get bored and probably turn into a loan shark if left unattended too long. So yeah, fun." he grumbled.

"What about Dami?"

Her turns around, eyebrows raised.

"I’m sorry?" he asks. "When did we start calling the demon child, Dami? We're on nickname level now?"

He hates how his heart flutters in his chest when he hears you laugh, melting away his annoyance.

"He's sweet, just a little prickly. like you." you grin, coming to wrap your arms around his neck, pecking him on the lips.

"Yeah, he's sweet to you, he's a little shit to everyone else." he grumbles.

"Sounds like someone else I know." you tease.

He can't help but grin, sighing out through his nose softly. "Fine. we can go." he grumbles, knowing he won’t be able to stay mad at you for long.

The photo he traces was from that night, you tucked into his side. You're staring at the camera with a sparkle in your eye, lips pulled back into a wide grin. You're wearing black to fit the theme of the ball, with red accents, matching him. He’s got his arm around your shoulder, taking the photo with you pressed up against him. He thinks you look stunning, eyes twinkling at him from the page.

He takes the exacto knife and gently runs it over the image, cutting himself out so that he can focus on you. The piece pops free, and he trims the edges. His heart thrums as he slides you onto the handle, fluttering with a tame delight.

"Don't forget to, you know..."

Dick’s voice floats back into his mind, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards once more. Reluctantly he pulls your photo from the handle and reaches for a screwdriver to his left, bringing it above the paper. He feels like he's about to stab you, the way the metal tip hovers above the image smiling back at him.

But he does it, heart clenching with each scrape across your eyes, slowly erasing the twinkle he loved so much. There's something sickening about the feeling of scratching your face out, the gritty sound of the photo tearing and leaving white streaks in its wake making his stomach flip. Finally, it's done, stark white lines blotting out your gaze. All that's left is the upturn of your lips, and the soft smile you wore.

With a heavy sigh Jason slots it back onto the handle, placing the clear protector over you. At least nothing could damage you more than he already had. He told himself it was for the better, as he cleaned his hands on a nearby rag and bit the inside of his cheek. You weren't the most supportive of his guns, but you liked that they kept him safe. You had had a few conversations with him about it but never an argument. He wanted to keep you close, but he knew he wasn't going to be an idiot about it. He wanted to protect you, hide your identity from any eagle-eyed thugs.

"Besides," he thought to himself. "Don't want em seeing what I'm about to do."

Maybe it was for the best that he covered your face for this.

His body hums with adrenaline, still alone in the Batcave. With scarred fingers he screws the cover onto the grip, clear cover sitting flush and keeping your photo secure. Jasons tosses it a few times in his hand, getting used to the feeling of the new colt pistols and making sure you weren't going to shake loose. When he was content, he looked over his shoulder, scanning the shadows for movement.

He knew that Bruce would condemn his actions, he didn’t even need to ask on that front. Dick would be understanding but try to hold him back, and Tim would try to talk him out of it. The only person he felt that silently agreed with him was Damian, the pair of them fostering an unlikely bond in the last few weeks.

Everyone in the manor knew what Jason was thinking.

What Jason was doing spending his nights in the Batcave, the one place he had grown to hate ever since coming back.

What he contemplated as he haunted the halls of the manor, the place he often traded in for the comfort of his downtown apartment.

Everyone knew what Jason was going to do tonight, yet none of them were game enough to say it out loud or stop him.

Therefore, Jason took their silence as compliance because he knew somewhere deep down, they wanted him to do it.

Or was he deluding himself?

He shook the thought from his head, holstering the newly decorated pistol. He was already dressed and strapped for this mission, no turning back now. With heavy hands he donned his helmet, taking a deep breath as he pushed Jason aside to become Red Hood. The air was still, as if the Batcave was filled with spirits watching him in silence as he mounted the bike and pressed the key for the garage door, speeding out.

He was already haunted by too many ghosts.

The streets of Gotham were relatively quiet, the usual alleys he stalked devoid of the thugs he would have expected. It seemed that even the city was holding its breath, civilians tucked safely inside. He knew where he was going.

He had been receiving mocking invites in the mail for the last week, notes attached to crime scenes in a gory fashion just to mock him. So really, it was no surprise when he arrived at Gotham cemetery, parking outside and not even bothering to kill the engine. He wasn’t going to be long anyways.

Just past the cemetery was the crumbling shell of Arkham, ivy covering the brickwork and roof caving in. His boots crushed broken panes of glass as he entered the decaying mental hospital, leaves scattered through the building from wrinkled trees that had cracked through the floors. He slowly made his way to the upper floor, where he had seen the lights.

Instinctually he reached for his gun, and he felt his heart calm sliding his hand over your picture secured into his sweetheart grip. He hadn't felt this anxious fighting in a while, unused to the way that his pulse thudded against his neck or the dryness that crept into his mouth. The corridor felt like it stretched on forever, making his vision swim trying to reach the light at the end.

Candlelight flickered weakly at the end of the hall, luring him in like a moth. As he stepped in he took note of it, hand tightening. Jason knew he was going to play with him, taunt and torture him. The images of you taped up on the peeling walls were enough. Photos that spanned back months, photos of you on dates, at work, in his car, in your apartment, blurry photos of you and him in his bed. His thumb instinctually placed itself over your eyes, despite them already being scratched out.

He didn't need you seeing the messy patchwork of your life.

Jason didn't even mind the photos, knowing the sadist would be doing something like that. What he did mind though were the images of you from three weeks ago, the same images that Dick had refused to let him see, that Tim wiped off the Batcomputer hard drive and Babs had removed from the GCPD database. The ones displaying the blood, the bone, the bruising.

Your eyes, unseeing.

Everything that was so familiar to him, but so foreign on you.

Everything that that one curved piece of metal had caused way back when, stained a dark brown. The same piece of metal that was sitting in the middle of the desk at the centre of the crude shrine, drying with a fresher coat of oxidised red.

He felt his heart rise to his throat, but he wasn’t sure if it was bile in his throat or the taste of blood from his bitten lip. His grip turned white, muscles flexing under the skin and pressing unnaturally hard. He felt the green tinged mania inside him rear its head, threatening to take over his mind and act purely on instinct. The Lazarus pit clawed and pulled at his soul harder that it had in years, gasping at him like a beggar, screaming for a shred of violence to feed it.

He knew the game. He knew all of this was to provoke him, try to get Jason to release the rage inside him. The monster wanted to see him squirm, see him struggle to keep himself in check. He wanted to watch Jason Todd fight against the Red Hood, watch the Bats moral code play out on his face.

Well, Jason wasn't Batman. He wasn't Bruce.

As soon as a skinny figure moved from the shadows to his right, his pistol was out in a flash. His free hand ripped the mask from his face, jaw tight and eyebrows furrowed, but he felt more relaxed than he had been in ages.

He was no Batman. He was Jason Todd.

And Jason was going to do the one thing Bruce had always been too much of a coward to do.

With one crisp bang the clown couldn’t get a single word out before he was splayed on the floor. As Jason stepped over the body he regarded it apathetically, barely biting down the urge to step on it. The bastards’ lips were pulled back in a wide smile, even in death. Maybe he had expected Jason to do this, maybe it was his last hurrah as an asshole, but Jason didn't care.

He didn’t even feel scared at the idea of the aftermath as a retraced his steps out of the abandoned building, mounting his still-running bike.

There hadn't been a single gloat before the gun cracked through the night, not a single joke or pun or taunt to leave the devil’s mouth. Bruce might have entertained it, let him play it out, but not Jason.

For Jason, everything that needed to be said had been said in actions.

The air was strangely cool, devoid of the humidity that nomrally hung in the streets. The city itself seemed to be sighing, taking a breath like the chord holding the city on a leash had been cut. He relished the feeling of it on his skin, the cracks in his suit letting the breeze run across his knuckles and where his mask met his neck. He imagined the cool fingers were you, cradling his face and whispering for him to take a rest, and he let his eyes flutter closed briefly.

 As he hit a red light he took a pause, reaching his hand down to pat where you were, tucked tightly under his hip. He didn't care what the reaction was going to be when he reached the manor, or the screaming match that was likely going to destroy what was left of his relationship with his pseudo father. All that matters is that he had done right by you, that he had done what he wished someone had done for him.

April 17th, the night Jason Todd killed the Joker.

[party-snake]

hi…. could i perhaps request a small one shot in which sebastian immediately develops a crush on some poor diver who just crawled through his vent? and he’s like all shy and shit? thank you :)

Certainly! Thanks for requesting :)

Cupid's arrow

Sebastian x Fem! Reader

Tw: The request and reponse will serve as your warning. Idiots in love.

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

oh... oh no. Sebastian promised himself he wouldn't get attached to any expendables. They're just prisoners. Some of them annoying pests who just want to flash him with that damn light beacon.

But you. You were different. The moment you stepped in his shop, you never flashed him. You even bought all his items. You never dared to say anything mean or degrading to him.

He chuckles as he slides the file over to you. "That wasn't exactly a staring contest. What were you doing?" The chair creaks as you slump foward, putting your head in your hands and pouting. "I wanted to look at the pretty shark." That made his heart skip a beat.

He scoffs and leans foward, tapping a claw on the bit of text. "Are you just ignoring the part where she is hostile to all humans?" You huff. "But I wanna look at her!" He rolls his eyes at that. "Look. Don't tell anyone this, but i'll give you a freebie."

You look taken aback for a moment before he frowns. "Take it before I change my mind." You nod quickly and were gone as soon as you came. he takes the moment as a second to breathe. 'Holy shit. So cute.' Thoughts race through his head, mostly of you.

A few minutes pass and he's back in his shop, adjusting his items. "Hi Seb." You say suddenly, catching him off guard. "Jesus- don't scare me like that. How'd you... you were so quiet." You simply nod. He straightens out, weaving his hands together. "Well, uh. What are you here for?" Browsing his wares, you spot a blacklight.

"Blacklight?" You ask. The shopkeeper nods. "Not many of those left. It doesn't anger the squiddles." You make a 'ohhh' face and pick it up, examining it. He chuckles at your cute face and just kinda... stares at you.

He snaps out of it when you wave your hand infront of him. "Seb? You okay?" He shakes his head. "Huh? Wha- Yup." He stutters horribly, cursing at himself. You smirk. "You sure?" You put your hands behind your back and step foward. He puts his hand over his face to block you out.

"Yup. T-Totally fine." You decide to drop it. "How much?" He looks down at you. "Huh?" You snicker and point at the blacklight in your hand. "For this." He looks dumbfounded for a few seconds before responding. "How about... 250. A discount, just for y-you."

"Really?" Stars form in your eyes and his brain stutters for a moment. "Yup." You fork over the data and stuff the blacklight in your bag. "Thanks Seb!" The only sound left in the shop was the thumps from the vent as you made your way out. He puts a clawed hand over his face as breathes, trying to calm his racing heart.

Your laughs, Your manners, the way you didn't immediately try and insult him. It meant more than you thought. He takes a deep breath and sighs, running his hand through his hair. He promised himself he wouldn't get attached, wouldn't grow crushes. But everytime he thinks of you, he smiles like an idiot in love. Oh well...

Sorry this is really short! (at least to my standards) my brain refuses to work apparently, so I forced it. Also sorry if it's shit. I'm tired. 😔

[dreamsteddie]

Stretch Zone Part 2

Hi everybody! I'm back with the next part of my Yoga Steve Steddie AU. I've decided to call it Stretch Zone as a bit of a teacher joke 😅

Still not sure where this is going or if it will go further, but I will be officially starting a tag list after this installment so if you want to be added let me know if the comments or tags.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

------

Despite his best efforts, Robin does not come with him next week to Chrissy’s yoga class. He tried to tell her, many times, that Chrissy was totally into her but she was impervious to his completely air-tight proof.

“She asked if I was your boyfriend and totally lit up when I said I wasn’t. She totally wants to get with you, Robbie”

“First of all, gross. Second of all, that is not proof of anything.”

So he came alone this week. Mostly, it’s the same thing as the first class but instead of introductions, they just get right into the exercises. Chrissy is a good teacher. Kind, patient, and always giving alternative ways to do the poses for people who want more or less difficulty. Of all the girls Robin has liked, she’s definitely Steve’s favorite and he’s determined to play wingman.

Chrissy always leaves enough time after class for everyone to mill around and clear up their stuff, which leaves Steve plenty of time to meddle.

“Hey Chrissy!” he calls out, jogging a little to reach her before any of the vultures do. Chrissy is a cute girl and he thinks more than one of the guys here are more interested in her than mindfulness. Probably some of the girls, too. “I wanted to thank you for the links you sent me. This mat is much better than the one they loaned me at the desk.” He says a little louder than is probably necessary, but he wants the vultures to hear and think that he’s already got an in with the pretty blond.

“Oh, no problem Steve, I was happy to help,” she says. She really is tiny, he finds himself thinking. Steve himself isn’t the tallest guy around but she has to tilt her head all the way up to look him in the eye. She’s going to look so cute next to Robin, speaking of which. “I didn’t see Robin this week. Was she not able to make it?” Steve once again curses Robin’s stubborn streak. Chrissy was very clearly hoping to see the other girl today.

“Nah, she decided it wasn’t for her. I don’t know if you saw, but she’s kind of clumsy,” Steve admits. “She told me to say hi though. She’s always talking about how great your ideas are for your writing class. I think she said something about peer editing? I don’t know,” he says with faux nonchalance. Robin most certainly did not ask him to pass on a hello and she would be mortified to know that the previously anonymous peer edits she submitted for Chrissy’s last paper are not so anonymous anymore. Steve would feel bad, Robin was definitely effusive with her praise, but if he’s right about this whole situation then Robin will thank him later.

“Oh! Robin was my editor last week? I didn’t know that! That review was so thoughtful and kind I was wondering who it was. I’ll have to thank her in class tomorrow,” she says with a bright, excited smile.

Robin is going to owe him big time.

Mission accomplished, Steve becomes aware that he’s taken up a good chunk of Chrissy’s time and there is a small pod of people awkwardly loitering around, probably waiting to ask questions that are actually yoga-related. One guy in particular is boring holes into Steve’s head like it’s his damn job, which is…well, it’s a little uncomfortable but Steve can appreciate he’s being kind of annoying taking up all the instructor's attention.

He says his goodbyes to Chrissy and turns to leave, catching that guy’s eyes again and sending him a little wave and sheepish smile. He might as well try and be friendly; they’re going to be in this class together for the next two months, after all. To Steve’s mild relief, it seems to snap the guy out of his single-minded glaring. He watches as the guy blinks hard and turns a charming shade of pink, clearly embarrassed to be acknowledged, and give a little wave back.

The guy is kind of cute, in a wet cat kind of way. He’s wearing black sweatpants and a shirt for some band Steve doesn’t recognize with the sleeves cut off and despite the fact that he’s got long, curly hair he clearly didn’t bring any kind of hair tie because the whole thing has become one tangled, sweaty mess. He’s not the kind of guy Steve would expect to be taking yoga classes, but he supposes anyone can get into this kind of stuff.

With one last look at the strange man, Steve continues toward the door, mind once again turned toward making sure Robin is prepared to talk to Chrissy on Monday.

—---

Eddie can not believe this is his life.

Of all the things he thought he would do one day - write an award-winning song, buy his uncle Wayne a better trailer in a better town, find a man to take his virginity - yoga was never on the list.

Eddie Munson is not, and has never been, the kind of guy to do exercise that didn’t involve running away from jocks and preps he’d annoyed to the point of violence. In fact, he’s been adamant that he would only ever do recreational exercise of the non-sexual variety when the sun fell out of the sky and Andy Johnson from high school professed his undying love to him.

Neither thing has happened as of yet but unfortunately, his best friend is the surprisingly cunning Chrissy Cunningham, who is determined to make Eddie into a healthier person. Chrissy, a bonafide jock but also the kindest person on planet Earth, has tried every trick in the book to get her best friend to commit to a better lifestyle, but Eddie has always been stubborn to a fault. Even he can admit that his dedication to cigarettes, microwave meals, and general sloth is not the best way to ensure he lives a long, healthy life, but old habits die hard and he’s still too young to be thinking about his inevitable death. 

No amount of pleading, cajoling, or petty theft from his apartment has gotten Eddie to commit to anything for more than a week, but Chrissy isn’t his best friend for nothing. She knows him better than anyone and that means she knows that Eddie is proud to a fault and when presented with a challenge he can’t - won’t - turn it down. She traps him into a bet he can’t win and in all her cruelty, she demands that he sign up for her three-month yoga course at the rec.

Three months.

Eddie won’t make it.

Eddie definitely won’t make it if the absolute snack of a man diagonal from him doesn’t start wearing something other than the tightest pair of yoga pants known to man. Seriously, Eddie thought this would be bad enough when all he had to worry about was his stiff joints and complete lack of lung capacity and then this man had the gal to walk in and set up not 10 feet away.

From the front, it had been bad enough. Droopy puppy eyes, sweet moles, a strong nose, and a fit body. And, well, Eddie is not a creep. He isn’t. But there is also an adonis of a man standing right in front of him wearing yoga pants and it’s kind of hard not to look at what's right in front of him. Much to his dismay, or relief he can’t tell, the adonis seems to know what he’s doing and has worn the correct undergarments to keep everything from flopping around.

And then he turned around and…

Dear god.

Those pants can not be fucking legal.

Eddie spent the entire class trying not to stare like the creep he swears he isn’t and failing. His only saving grace is that he doesn’t fall on his face, but it’s a near thing, especially when Chrissy guides them into these weird lunges that make the back of Eddie’s thighs burn and the man of his dream’s ass look completely biteable. He swears Chrissy is torturing him on purpose. She’s probably trying to get him back for being such a brat about taking care of himself.

When the class finally lets out 45 agonizing minutes after it started, Eddie feels like a wrung dish towel. He’s sweaty and gross and he’s going to be aching in places he didn’t even know existed until next week when he has to do it all again. Seriously, fuck bets.

When he finally summons the will to sit up, he is once again treated to the sight of the most fabulous ass this side of the Mississippi. The equally gorgeous man attached to it is chatting to Chrissy, something about yoga mats that Eddie doesn’t care to understand and general pleasantries that he tunes out until his brain hooks on something interesting.

Robin.

As in Robin Buckley the girl from Chrissy’s writing class that his best friend has been crushing hard on for weeks.

Very interesting indeed.

But he can think about that later. At the moment, he is more concerned with getting off the floor and shuffling a little closer to the front of the room for a better look at his future husband’s face. There’s something pleasant about the shape of his mouth, a thought Eddie has never had about a person before but is nonetheless true. There’s a curve to his smile that is present even as he speaks. Eddie kind of wants to kiss his teeth. He’s so caught up seeing if he can count all the moles on the man’s neck that he doesn’t notice him turn toward Eddie until he’s wiggling his fingers in a little wave.

Eddie is suddenly reminded that staring at another man’s moles in the middle of a yoga studio is not socially acceptable behavior, and this man definitely saw him doing just that. He can feel all the blood in his body rush to his face in record time. This is definitely the most embarrassing moment of his adult life. 

Helpless to do anything else lest he look like even more of a freak, he gives a little wave back, feeling supremely stupid as he does. The guy gives him one last look before walking out the door.

As soon as he’s gone Eddie collapses back onto his abandoned mat and covers his eyes with his hands, too mortified to face the world. He doesn’t care if there are still other people lingering around talking to Chrissy and cleaning up their mats, he kicks his feet into the air and groans loud and long. Let Chrissy deal with the weird looks for him, this is her fault anyway.

A couple minutes later the room dims even more as Chrissy looms over him. He refuses to take his hands away from his face, not wanting to deal with her no doubt smug face.

“See something you liked?” She asked, unperturbed by Eddie’s childish behavior.

Eyes still closed, he says, “You’re going to hell. This is best friend abuse.”

Chrissy just laughs.

-------

Little reminder that I am doing a little fanfiction giveaway to celebrate 500 followers. If you want to enter, go to this post for the details!

------

Tag List Added

@aroseandherthorns @child-of-cuthulu @lumoschildextra @warlordess

[katanahime]

Tim DID want to be adopted, actually

Sometimes people take canon facts out of context and use them to build a narrative that's not true to the full context of those facts, and while there's a certain degree to which that's fine (I firmly believe people in fanfiction and stuff can alter details however they want to build a narrative that pleases them), where it annoys me is where these beliefs extend into people thinking this altered narrative is true beyond the scope of an alternate fandom exploration, and in particular it hits me hard when it comes to topics related to found family and adoption because I'm just so tired of blood tie narratives.

So

Facts: Tim Drake invented wholesale a fake uncle "Eddie Drake" and hired an actor to play him rather than accept Bruce's (first) offer to adopt him following Jack Drake's death.

And out of context, wow, he sure went pretty far to avoid getting adopted by Bruce. I get why people who didn't read the source comics think he didn't want it, I get it.

But here's Tim's actual thoughts in Robin #134 on the page following Bruce's offer:

Wow! Wow! I was like - I couldn't speak! I was totally speechless! It never occurred to me that Bruce would want to - He wants me to be his son? Real and legal? I mean - Wow! Of course, eventually, when I got my voice back, I had to tell him I needed time to think about it. This is nothing like I ever imagined might happen, way back when I became Robin for the first time. Okay, it wasn't so long ago - but it seems like a million years.

(Also look at Tim immediately calling the idea of this making him Bruce's son "real", thank you, Tim, for having more sense than so many words more recently that I've had to read with my own eyes.)

So if you haven't personally read this before, you must be asking the question, well, why didn't he accept? Why did he go to such lengths to avoid something he apparently had some degree of excitement about?

Well

In Hindsight, I should have handled lots of things better. I kept putting Bruce off, even though he deserved an answer to his incredibly generous offer. But I only had a week to get things ready for the reading of Dad's will. Only time will tell if I did the right thing.

During my visit, it took every bit of discipline I could conjure to keep from asking Bruce that one terrible question I'm stone cold certain that our relationship can't survive. "What happened in those last moments between you and Stephanie, and why did you keep me from being there?"

Like the proverbial bell that can't be un-rung, once asked, it can't be taken back.

Better for us to be apart for a while, even if it means I have to run away to a crummy hole like the 'haven.

Or, in other words, he knew if he lived with Bruce he couldn't keep himself from asking about what happened with Steph. And he felt like the answer would ruin their relationship forever. (Tim often has problems with catastrophizing and fatalism of this nature.) Something Tim desperately did not want to happen.

So he temporarily separates himself so he can get distance from the emotions that revolve around that question. However, he only had a week and he kind of panicked into something that he didn't necessarily think was the best decision.

By the way, once he DOES get adopted later, after Bruce's SECOND offer to do so, we get his thoughts again (Robin #159):

It is pretty weird, I guess... No, I know it's pretty weird. My parents will always be my parents... ...But Bruce was a father figure to me in lots of ways before both my parents died... ...So having him adopt me, when everything was going so lousy in my life...mostly, it just made me feel wanted...made me feel good.

Tim not only affirming that he likes having been adopted, but also reconfirming that Bruce was basically another dad to him long before that was even legally viable.

Which is honestly also just stating out loud what was already very painfully obvious for an extremely long time.

The uniqueness of Tim's situation in the 90's and early 00's was not that he wasn't Bruce's family, but that Tim had more than one. And the push and pull with an odd situation wherein Tim had two dads but in a way that you don't think about when you usually hear that someone has two dads. Especially here on tumblr dot com.

(Personally I loathe Jack Drake, as he's very clearly emotionally abusive [I think the moments he is "better" with Tim are intended to humanize him and tell you that he's not so bad, but it's literally an abusive cycle, because he always goes back to being shitty. Until he couldn't anymore because he died], but I also respect the fact that Tim loved him and still wanted him to be his dad, because people and family are complicated like that. And I could see this thought turning into another essay so I'll leave it at that for now. And I still haven't really discussed Tim and Bruce's actual relationship, either, which I hinted at doing in my other post. I'll get to it...another day.)

[onlyquinns]

Maybe how Clayton keller would react when you two are fighting and you flinch thinking he's gonna hurt you but instead fix his hair or something

he's annoyed. he's annoyed that you saw that he'd called and left no response in return. but clayton is mostly annoyed at himself for not backing down when he knows to.

the two of you have been arguing for half an hour, not raising voices but talking with venom. you're tired, tried to explain that you didn't have time to send him a text, that just because his season--his work--is over doesn't mean that yours is. and he won't listen.

you turn away from the cutting board on the kitchen counter, make a point to put the knife down while making eye contact with him. "clayton, how many times do i have to repeat myself?" you grumble, hands on hips, eyes fiery with aggravation. "i couldn't respond because i had a work emergency, okay?"

clayton huffs, nostrils flaring. he looks wild; his eyebrows are pinched together and his hair is pushed back from his face. "what emergency? i'm concerned and you telling me you had an emergency at work doesn't help!" his voice raises in pitch, and you have to take a deep breath to ground yourself, to keep the frustrated tears at bay.

"clay, i can't tell you," you mumble, because it's true--working as an elementary nurse makes it hard for you to talk about your work; every kids personal information and accidents are private, and clayton doesn't understand.

clayton groans, tipping his head forward, annoyed that the argument has gone full circle and brought the two of you back to the beginning. when he looks up, his hair is in his eyes and blocks his vision. he reaches up to push it back. the sight of him raising his hands put you in fight-or-flight. you take a step back and brace for impact--eyes shut tight and arms coming up to brace yourself, to protect your head.

clayton freezes, arms hanging in mid-air at the sight of you curled up in on yourself. "baby?" he whispers, anger and annoyance leaving his body immediately. he slowly lowers his arms, and you open your eyes a little to make sure he isn't tricking you or trying to come at you. "baby, i'm... i'm not going to hurt you." he takes a small step forward and you hesitate, stumbling backward an inch.

"are you sure?" you ask, and the fear on your face makes clayton mentally berate himself.

he nods, "yes, baby--i'm not going to hurt you. i promise." you let him get close to you. "i'm sorry, baby. please, believe me." his words wobble, cracking as he speaks--as he pleads.

you nod slowly and take a small step toward him, letting him embrace you. you're tense for a second, fearful he might change his mind and hurt you. he holds you tighter, whispering in your ear--soft apologies that wobble as he says them, words tight with emotion, with the idea that you thought he'd ever hurt you.

"i'm sorry," he whispers over and over, and your body relaxes in his hold. you tuck your face into his chest. "i would never hurt you, baby, i'm so sorry i scared you; i'm so sorry." he cries against your shoulder and you press further into him, wiping unshed tears into his shirt.

"i know, clay, i'm sorry; i know you would never hurt me," you tell him. "i'm sorry i didn't text back, baby. i promise i'll--"

clayton shakes his head, "no, it's my fault. i was being stupid. i know how much those kids mean to you and you're incredible for keeping their shit safe. it was stupid of me to get upset at you, i'm sorry." he squeezes tightly, keeping you in place. "i love you," he murmurs. "i love you so fucking much."

you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him to you just as tightly as he holds you.

the apartment smells like warm soup, like clayton's shampoo and cologne. and you feel so incredibly ridiculous to think he'd hurt you, because your clayton would never.

you inhale deeply, closing your eyes. "i love you, too, clay. so much." and you hold onto him even tighter to prove it.

[kaiyunsim]

restless—

pairing : idol best friend!jisung x gn!reader

summary : after a night of many shots of soju, a drunk confession slips before fans rush in, creating an awkward hungover morning.

warnings : fluff, SLIGHT angst, fans are kinda annoying tbh, drunk jisung (duh), drunk reader, both get hungover

a/n : o m g. tbh i might open requests for jisung cuz he is SAUR cute omg please (one chance jisung🙏). for the pookie @the0p

queueing : kitchen - sza, table of one - natalie jinju, restless - bibi

— wc : 4.0k — not proof read —

you and jisung have always been close. friends, mostly. the kind of friends who joke around, goof off, and sometimes even share your secrets. you’re sitting at a bar together tonight, the dim lights and the soft hum of chatter making the atmosphere cozy, but there's something in the air. maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it’s jisung being a little too close, or maybe it's just you finally admitting that you have a crush on your best friend.

"hey," jisung says, his voice just a little louder than usual as he nudges your arm. "are you feeling it yet?"

he's already a few drinks in, his face flushed and his smile big and goofy, though it's clear he’s trying to keep it cool. you laugh, maybe a little too loud, and glance at the soju bottle in front of you. you've only had a couple of shots, but it's already hitting you.

"i think so," you say, letting your words slur a bit. "you?"

jisung snickers, leaning back in his chair, clearly already tipsy. "me? i'm gone," he says, slurring the words with an exaggerated pout. "but i'm having fun. this is great."

you grin at his antics. jisung has always been playful, but tonight, there's something else about him. maybe it's the way his hair falls into his eyes, or how his hand keeps brushing against yours when you both reach for your drinks. either way, you’re feeling a little more nervous than usual, like the buzz from the alcohol is making you more aware of his every movement.

"yeah, this is great," you agree, a little breathless.

jisung’s grin widens, and he leans closer, his face inching toward yours as he teases, “you know, i don’t think i’ve ever hung out with you this much. it’s kinda fun."

you laugh, trying to hide your embarrassment. "what, like we don’t hang out enough?"

he gives you a playful look, then nudges your shoulder with his. “nah, i mean, this feels different, y’know? i dunno, maybe it’s the soju talking,” jisung says, his voice a little quieter now, but there’s an undercurrent to it that you can’t quite place.

you dismiss it. the alcohol's starting to make everything a little hazy, and you’re starting to feel warm in all the right places. it’s easy to ignore things like that when you’re tipsy, right?

"yeah, maybe," you say, trying to make the words sound light, even though you can’t quite ignore how his shoulder is still brushing against yours. "you’re just drunk."

jisung smirks, and for a moment, you think he might say something more. but instead, he leans back in his chair, slinging his arm over the backrest and looking at you with a lazy, half-lidded gaze. “i’m drunk, but you’re tipsy,” he teases. "i think that means you're the more responsible one tonight."

"ha," you chuckle, shaking your head. "i think you’re wrong."

he grins, but then his smile softens, just a little. “no, seriously. you’re good at this,” jisung says, voice surprisingly sincere as he looks at you. “i think you’re always good at... things. you know? like, you’re just... cool. i’ve always thought that.”

you blink, surprised by his words, but your mind doesn’t quite connect the dots. tipsy and just a little too giggly, you shrug it off. “what? i’m just me,” you reply with a laugh, knocking back another shot of soju. "don’t get all serious on me now, we're just here to have fun."

jisung laughs, too, though his is a little quieter, like he’s holding back something. “yeah, yeah,” he says, clearly trying to play it off, but his eyes linger on you longer than usual. you don’t notice. instead, you're distracted by the bright lights and the buzz of the crowd around you. maybe this whole evening is just that. a fun night, nothing more. at least, that’s what you try to convince yourself.

the night continues in a blur of laughter, more drinks, and random conversations. you and jisung joke about everything, from the music playing in the background to the awkward waiter who keeps glancing over at your table. but there's a shift in jisung. the more you watch him, the more you realize he’s been acting differently, a little more touchy than usual, brushing against your arm more often, leaning in just a little closer when he speaks.

you catch him staring at you once, and when he notices you’ve seen, he quickly looks away, his face turning red. you laugh, thinking it’s just the alcohol talking. after all, jisung’s always been a little... unpredictable. especially when he’s drunk.

"what’s up with you?" you ask, leaning over to nudge him playfully. "getting shy now?"

jisung shrugs, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “nah,” he says, voice lower than usual. “just... uh... thinking about stuff.”

“thinking about what?” you ask, genuinely curious, though you’re starting to feel the alcohol take full effect. your words slur a little as you lean against the table, trying to focus on jisung.

he hesitates, the playful glint in his eyes dimming for just a moment, before he grins again. "nothing. just drunk thoughts." he laughs, but it’s not quite the same carefree laugh he’s been giving all night. it feels... different. feels... nervous.

but you’re too tipsy to care. “yeah, right,” you mutter, brushing it off with a wave of your hand. “drunk thoughts are the best.”

“uh-huh,” jisung says, a little too seriously. "best thoughts ever."

the night is a blur of laughter and the warm glow of soju, the alcohol slowly building up inside both of you. your words slur and mix with giggles, your head growing heavier as the evening drags on. it’s fun, though. so much fun. jisung is always a good time, and tonight, with the alcohol loosening your thoughts, everything feels like it’s just a little bit more intense than usual.

the conversation shifts, and jisung, now thoroughly drunk, becomes more playful, teasing you in that way he always does. his hand brushes against your shoulder, a subtle touch, but it lingers a little longer than necessary. the warmth of his hand on your skin sends a flutter through you, and your heart skips a beat.

"you know," jisung says, his voice quieter now, the usual playfulness in it replaced with something softer. it catches your attention, the sudden shift in tone. "i really like spending time with you. a lot."

you freeze, blinking up at him. the words settle into your mind, but they don’t quite make sense. maybe it’s the soju talking. maybe you’re just imagining things. "what, like... friends, right?" you ask, laughing nervously, hoping it’s just a passing comment. but there’s something in jisung’s eyes. something that says not to take it at the surface level.

jisung’s eyes widen, and he leans in just a little closer. his face is flushed, but he doesn’t look away. "no... i mean, yeah, but..." his voice falters slightly, and you can see the hesitation in his movements. "i mean... i kinda think i like you. more than a friend. i’ve liked you for a while, actually. like, a long while."

your breath catches in your throat, the words ringing in your ears. you blink rapidly, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. did he just..? was he really saying that? jisung, your best friend, the one who always joked around with you, the one who made everything feel easy. he’s telling you he likes you? more than a friend?

your heart starts to race. the room seems to spin slightly, but it’s not from the alcohol, it’s from the sudden shift in reality. jisung likes you. he’s saying it so openly, so honestly, and yet... you don’t know how to react.

before you can respond, a loud voice breaks through your dazed thoughts. "hey! jisung!" a group of fans suddenly appear, calling his name excitedly, their eyes bright with recognition. jisung snaps out of his daze, his gaze moving from you to the group of girls now approaching your table.

"oh, uh," jisung stammers, his face flushing an even deeper red, his playful demeanor snapping back into place like a mask. he sits back in his chair too quickly, almost knocking over his drink, and gives the fans a wide, charming smile. "yeah, yeah! sure! let’s take a picture!"

you sit frozen, unsure of what just happened. jisung’s confession, the words hanging in the air, but now replaced by the sudden rush of fans wanting attention. it’s like the moment never happened at all.

your mouth feels dry, and you try to shake the confusion off, but your mind is still reeling. jisung likes you. more than a friend. it doesn’t seem real. it’s too much to process, especially with the alcohol clouding your judgment. the fans crowd around jisung, and you watch as he laughs and poses for selfies, sliding easily back into his idol persona.

you look down at the shot glass in front of you, swirling the liquid inside absentmindedly. your fingers feel unsteady, and your thoughts are racing. should you tell him you feel the same way? should you do something about it? the words are there, sitting on the tip of your tongue, but they don’t come out. you’re still too caught in the rush of everything, the soju, the fans, the unexpected confession.

jisung doesn’t even glance back at you. his attention is fully on the group of fans now surrounding him, taking pictures and chatting. you should be happy for him. after all, this is his world. you’ve seen it countless times. his fans, his charm, his ability to shift from casual to idol mode with a single smile. but tonight... tonight feels different. it feels like you’re on the outside looking in.

you sigh quietly to yourself, pushing the thoughts away. you’re tipsy, it’s fine. jisung’s probably just drunk and being silly. he doesn’t really mean it, right? maybe he was just feeling sentimental or had too much to drink. the way he’s acting now, laughing with fans, the flirtatious glint in his eyes, it all seems so... normal.

“hey, you okay?” a fan asks, noticing you sitting quietly at the table, away from the group.

you give a half-hearted smile, nodding. “yeah, just... just tired. too much soju,” you mutter, your voice low, not really wanting to explain the thoughts racing through your head. “nothing to worry about.”

they nod and return their attention to jisung, and you’re left alone again. a small part of you feels relieved, but another part, maybe the one that’s been feeling strange since jisung’s confession, feels empty. you want to shout at him, to tell him that you feel the same way. but the moment is gone. lost in the chaos of his fans and the noise of the bar.

time passes slowly, and you find yourself back at the dorm, the cool night air doing little to sober you up. jisung’s laughter echoes down the hall as he stumbles ahead of you, still clearly drunk, his arm slung around one of the other guys. you follow behind, still caught in the fog of what happened.

you’re barely coherent, but the moment you shared with jisung keeps replaying in your head. he liked you. more than a friend. how could you have missed that? maybe he didn’t mean it. maybe he was just rambling, drunk and lost in the moment. still, the way his eyes held yours and the sincerity in his words. it just felt so real.

when you reach the dorm room, jisung collapses onto the couch with a dramatic groan, immediately pulling a pillow over his face. you stop by the door, still feeling like a whirlwind is spinning inside you. you don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or do something completely different.

jisung lifts the pillow slightly, looking over at you with a sheepish grin. “hey,” he says, his voice slurring, “you good?”

“yeah, just tired,” you respond, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart is still racing. “but, uh... you?”

jisung shrugs, his smile lazy. “i’m fine. just... you know. i like you.” his words are slurred, but they hit you like a freight train.

you freeze, blinking. “what?”

he waves a hand lazily in the air, as if the confession was nothing. “nah, it’s nothing. i’m just drunk. forget i said that.” he chuckles and flops back down on the couch, completely unaware of how those words hit you, like a bomb, like everything you’ve been feeling was just thrown out in the open.

you stand there for a moment, heart pounding, but you don’t say anything. maybe he’s not being serious. maybe it’s just the alcohol. maybe you’re imagining things.

you glance over at him, his back to you now, clearly more interested in the couch than anything else.

but deep down, you know. jisung may have just let something slip. and you’re not sure what to do with it yet.

the next morning comes far too quickly. you wake up to the dull throb of a hangover and the light creeping through the curtains. the weight of everything that happened last night hits you all at once. you blink, groaning as you try to sit up, but the motion sends a wave of dizziness over you. you lie back down, rubbing your temples as you attempt to piece everything together.

last night was a blur, but there are flashes of clarity. jisung’s words, the confession, his flirty demeanor, and then... the fans. everything happened so fast, and now you’re left with this uncomfortable feeling in your chest. did he mean what he said? was he just drunk, messing around?

you glance over at the couch, where jisung had passed out. his arms are sprawled out, and the blanket he threw over himself has slid to the floor. he’s snoring softly, oblivious to the storm in your mind. you sigh heavily, feeling your stomach twist.

you don’t know what to do with any of it. what did he mean by “i like you”? you feel your heart race as the memory replays in your head. you want to believe it was real, but the way he brushed it off afterward makes you second-guess everything.

eventually, you drag yourself out of bed, trying to ignore the headache that comes with it. you need coffee. that’s the only thing that’s going to help right now. you shuffle into the kitchen, already reaching for the coffee pot when you hear movement from the living room. jisung is awake, apparently, and a moment later, he walks in, still a little disheveled but looking surprisingly chipper for someone who’d clearly been just as drunk as you.

“morning,” jisung says, his voice rough from sleep, but there’s that familiar grin on his face. he looks completely at ease, his usual energy returning now that he’s no longer completely drunk.

you offer a half-hearted smile. “morning.”

he flops down onto the couch with a loud groan, stretching his limbs out like a cat. “what time is it? my head is killing me. i think we need more soju to fix this.”

you chuckle weakly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. "probably not a good idea."

jisung laughs and looks over at you with a playful grin. “yeah, yeah. i'm just kidding." he pauses, watching you for a moment as if contemplating something. "you know, i think we had fun last night.”

you blink, unsure of where he’s going with this. “yeah, definitely. a lot of fun.”

he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, and gives you a more serious look. “we should do it again sometime. you and me, more soju, more hanging out. you know? i mean, i think we should do it more often.”

you stare at him, your heart thudding in your chest. does he remember last night? does he remember what he said? “uh, yeah, sure,” you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice comes out quieter than you intended. you’re unsure if you should mention it, his confession. maybe he’s forgotten about it. maybe it’s better if you just pretend it didn’t happen.

jisung grins widely, clearly oblivious to your internal turmoil. “cool. i’m down for that. maybe we can... uh...” he hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting away from you. “maybe we can talk more. just... us. y’know? sometimes i think you don’t let me in enough.”

you blink at him, trying to process his words. “what do you mean?”

jisung looks a little uncomfortable for a second, his usual confidence faltering. “i don’t know. like, sometimes you’re just... i dunno, distant. i want to be closer to you, but it feels like you’re keeping something from me.”

your heart skips a beat at his words. is he being serious? you glance at him, unsure of how to respond. you want to tell him everything. about your feelings. about how his confession last night has been replaying in your head. but you don’t know if you should. is he really being honest with you, or is he just drunk again? what if he was just messing around?

before you can find the words, jisung continues, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “i just want you to know, i... i really like you. i do. i’m not just saying that because i was drunk last night. i mean it. i’ve liked you for a while, and it’s hard not to... feel it, you know?”

your heart races, your mind spinning. you weren’t expecting this. not after everything that happened last night. jisung’s words are clear now, no ambiguity, no alcohol-fueled haze. he likes you. and he’s not backing down.

“you... you really mean that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “because... i don’t know. last night was—”

“i know,” jisung interrupts gently, his eyes sincere. “i was drunk, and i get it if you think i was just being dumb or whatever. but i’m not messing with you. i’m serious.”

you feel a lump form in your throat. you want to tell him everything. you want to tell him that you like him too, that you’ve liked him for so long, but the words get stuck. instead, you nod, barely managing a smile. “yeah, me too. i think... i think i like you, too.”

jisung’s expression softens, and for a moment, there’s a quiet understanding between you both. he smiles, a small, genuine smile that makes your chest tighten with warmth. “really?”

“yeah,” you say, finally finding your voice. “really.”

he laughs, but it’s not the usual teasing laugh. it’s soft and relieved, like a weight has been lifted. “well, damn. guess we’ve got a lot of talking to do then.”

you smile, your heart still racing, but it feels lighter now. the air between you is charged, the tension that’s been building up for who knows how long finally starting to dissipate. jisung leans back on the couch, crossing his arms behind his head, still looking at you with that soft smile.

“so, when do we do this?” jisung asks, his voice light but serious. “when do we actually... hang out like this, just us, no distractions?”

you chuckle, your nerves slowly fading. “whenever you want.”

he grins at you, his playful demeanor returning, but there’s something more there now—something deeper. you’re not sure where this is going, but for the first time, you feel like it might actually be going somewhere good.

the rest of the morning passes in a blur of easy conversation and comfortable silences. everything feels a little more natural now, a little more real. the tension is still there, the spark between you and jisung undeniable, but for once, it feels like you’re both on the same page.

maybe it took a drunken night and a confession for everything to come to light, but now, you don’t have to hide anymore. you like him, he likes you, and that’s all that matters right now. everything else can wait.

you both sit in the living room, sipping on cups of water instead of coffee, because caffeine is a terrible idea when you’re this hungover. jisung groans every few minutes about his headache, dramatically flopping onto the couch like he’s on the verge of death.

“i think this might be it for me,” he sighs, draping an arm over his eyes. “i had a good run, right?”

you roll your eyes, nudging his leg with your foot. “you’re so dramatic.”

he peeks at you from under his arm, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. “maybe, but my head is actually killing me.”

“mine too,” you mumble, rubbing your temples. the dull ache behind your eyes refuses to go away, and the exhaustion from last night’s emotional rollercoaster is creeping in.

jisung sits up, stretching his arms above his head before letting out a long sigh. “you know,” he says, voice quieter now, “i still can’t believe i actually said all that stuff to you last night.”

your stomach flips. “do you regret it?”

his eyes widen slightly, like he hadn’t considered that possibility. “no,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “not even a little bit.”

you swallow, feeling your chest tighten at his sincerity. “good,” you say softly. “because i don’t regret anything either.”

jisung’s lips curve into a small smile, and for a moment, you just sit there, staring at each other. there’s no awkwardness, no hesitation anymore. just an unspoken understanding that whatever this is, whatever it’s turning into, you’re both okay with it.

“okay,” jisung sighs, dramatically throwing himself back against the couch. “but, like, what now? do we do the whole couple thing? do i start calling you babe? because i feel like you’d hit me if i did that.”

you snort. “probably.”

he grins. “figured.”

the conversation slows, the exhaustion from last night settling into your bones. you yawn, stretching your arms above your head before slumping against the couch. “i don’t wanna do anything today.”

jisung hums in agreement, his eyes already drooping shut. “same.”

there’s a beat of silence before he shifts, his head falling against your shoulder. it’s a little awkward at first, his weight unfamiliar, but you don’t move away. instead, you let him lean against you, his warmth seeping through the fabric of your shirt.

“you’re comfy,” jisung mumbles sleepily.

you chuckle, tilting your head to rest lightly against his. “thanks, i guess.”

he hums, his breathing evening out slightly. “wanna just… sleep all day?”

you consider it. your bed sounds amazing right now, and honestly, you don’t have the energy to do anything else.

“yeah,” you mumble. “let’s sleep.”

jisung grins, his eyes still closed. “cool. but your bed. not the couch.”

you huff out a soft laugh but don’t argue. slowly, you both drag yourselves up, stumbling toward your room in a haze of exhaustion. jisung doesn’t hesitate to flop onto your bed, immediately burrowing under the blankets like he belongs there.

“wow, you didn’t even wait for me,” you tease, climbing in beside him.

jisung peeks at you from under the covers, grinning. “you took too long.”

you roll your eyes but settle in, feeling the warmth of the blankets and jisung’s presence beside you. for a moment, there’s silence, just the steady sound of your breathing as you both start to drift off.

but then, just as you’re about to fall asleep, jisung shifts closer, his arm lazily draping over your waist. “this okay?” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep.

your heart stutters, but you don’t pull away. instead, you nod, even though he probably can’t see it. “yeah,” you whisper. “it’s okay.”

jisung hums in contentment, his grip tightening slightly. “good.”

and just like that, the two of you fall asleep, tangled up in warmth and quiet understanding.

no pressure, no expectations. just you and jisung, finally on the same page.

[sabxynsweet]

sweetheart!reader head canons / lore 4 the series ! (part 1 probs)

(of course it's a self insert so you can ignore all of this but these are just consistent details/backstory that i have in the back of my mind while writing)

mattheo head canons

❤︎ you're a half-blood, your father was a pure blood wizard and your mother was a muggle, you're an only child and your parents raised you with kindness - hence why you grew up to be such a sweetheart !

❤︎ i've never stated your house but i think it's pretty obvious you're in hufflepuff

❤︎ which begs the question! how did you and pansy become such close friends?

❤︎ well, you met on the train going to hogwarts back in first year and you immediately clicked, though at the time, she pretended to be annoyed by you

❤︎ i think that pansy is very much one of those people who just "adopts" people as her friends

❤︎ immediately, pansy decided you were hers

❤︎ which meant that when you got sorted into hufflepuff, she vowed to defend you against any slythein (or anyone) who was mean to you (first years are very dramatic)

❤︎ has definitely gotten into a cat fight for you (we're talking hair pulling and nail scratching)

❤︎ side note/extra lore: pansy and blaise (who i head canon to be a very chill person) started dating at the end of fifth year - they're so parents

❤︎ you and mattheo met in the second academic term of sixth year

❤︎ however, mattheo has liked you since he sat near you on the train in third year (you didn't notice him at the time because he was quiet and tried to hide from everbody)

❤︎ also! you became friends with theo in fifth year because there was this one time when you both were the only ones in detention (he got caught smoking and you got dress coded, probably) and you had a nice conversation with him where he thought you were the sweetest and most entertaining person he had ever met

❤︎ that was kind of that, though, you never really spoke to him - other than a brief "hello" - after that

❤︎ but becoming closer with mattheo led to you spending more time around theo and he quickly became like a brother to you

❤︎ he thinks you’re like the younger sister he never had (though he’s only a few months older)

❤︎ all of this to say, you're friends with (mostly) everyone because you're kind to everyone

❤︎ and that you're basically an honorary slytherin because they all adore you so much

❤︎ also, i head canon that mattheo is one of the oldest people in his year - meaning he was born in november/december the year before you were born

❤︎ while you were born in spring/summer (again, you could totally ignore this but i think i mention in one of my drafts that he’s the slightest bit older)

❤︎ things you love: deers, lipstick, mirrors, hearts, polka dots (twin!), pink, baby blue, music, arts and crafts (like making friendship bracelets), jewellery, talking & stars

❤︎ things you hate: math, pigeons (you love animals but you’re TERRIFIED of so many), baking (you’ve tried because it would suit you but you’re just too impatient!) & bugs (though you love ladybugs)

❤︎ you're very flirty - not in the way the slytherin boys are - but just in a sweet and charming way, you get anything you want with a bat of your eyelashes and a sweet smile

❤︎ you're horrible at handling your liquor, you don't drink often (#goodgirl) but when you do, you get tipsy after two drinks

❤︎ you love high heels (personal self insert moment - sue me! - because i'm always click-clacking around everywhere)

❤︎ your school has a very strict uniform code (one that mattheo breaks daily with his wrinkled button up shirt and crooked tie) that includes rules regrading shoes: shoes should be appropriate and heels should be 3 centimetres or less.

❤︎ this is one of the only rules you break, as you choose to sport a variety of heels that are - god forbid! - a little higher than 3 centimetres.

❤︎ mattheo had teased you, calling you “such a rebel” and a “bad influence on his innocent soul” when you had told him about you breaking this rule

❤︎ okay so regarding your academics, you're good at humanity subjects (such as history of magic, muggle studies...)

❤︎ but you're oh so horrible at "stem" subjects (like arithmancy and potions) - you're decently good at charms, though, hence why you're in the same class as mattheo!!

❤︎ you listen to clairo, lana del rey, sabrina carpenter, faye webster, the marias, taylor swift and gracie abrams mainly

❤︎ but you like all sorts of music! hence why you can talk about the music mattheo likes (which i mention a little in my head canons for him)

❤︎ i like to think that you have a ton of hobbies, just like super randomly you show up to potions class with a lopsided cup you made for Mattheo in a pottery class you take outside of hogwarts

❤︎ you can come across as (and can be) ditzy but that doesn't mean you're dumb, most people think you are because they mistake kindness for naivety but you're not that at all

❤︎ you're very self aware and actually incredibly emotionally intelligent

❤︎ you are a very emotionally available person and you’re very empathetic

❤︎ you allow yourself to feel deeply

❤︎ i think mattheo adores and sometimes envies that about you

❤︎ in conclusion (for now) you are the sweetest of hearts

❤︎ as well as the most protected person with the three scariest slytherins (mattheo, theo and pansy, of course) looking out for you

taglist: @fallingwallsh @espressqe @theodoresvalentine @fanfictiononly4 @genuinelyfloatingsouls @fayezasstuff @glittervame @wxnterwidow333 @thalibaby @cminoko

[dyingswanpavlova]

Stranger Danger

Part 1

Pairing: The Salesman x Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Helplessness, Manipulation

I think there are no more warnings for this chapter, but so far, I'm sure there will be Noncon in the future. I'm just saying that now already to make sure people who get triggered by that know it.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Your father always warned you not to get into a stranger's car, but he never mentioned what you should do if you need help and the stranger seems like a good guy.

You remembered your father’s words like a mantra, safe and gentle, but no less stern.

Don’t get into stranger’s cars.

Looking back, you always assumed he saw you as rather silly or slow. He hadn’t warned your sister half as much as he had you. You were weak-willed. You were naïve. You trusted anyone, no matter how many times they fucked you over – your father knew. And yet, he couldn't help you. No one could.

He had been there to protect you most of your life. Many things you never needed to do yourself – take out the trash, build any furniture or even walk to school. He was there to do these things for you, even long after you moved out. You never saw anything weird in it, though you assumed some people might have. Yes, you were a little naïve, silly even when it came to trusting people. But why would you not? Your parents were good people and you grew up in a perfect world.

Of course you weren’t some kind of internal deadbeat. You knew how to cook and clean, you got your school finished and you got yourself a job. It wasn’t like your parents just did everything for you, but you always knew that they were there.

You had always depended on them and you weren’t shy to admit that. You loved your parents.

Your mother was the epitome of motherly love. Whatever it was about, you and your sister came first. She didn’t think about herself, up to point where it got really annoying. Whenever she got something, like a perfume set or a gift card, she’d offer it to you. You and your sister, you had to forcefully make her go and buy something for herself. It was just in her nature. Her own parents had been like that, giving everything to her and her brother, before they thought about themselves and so she simply continued with the cycle.

Your father was a little different – at least his upbringing. His parents hadn’t loved him. Not because he wouldn’t be lovable, no, he had been no more than a little boy. But his own mother was a selfish hag who cared only about herself, leaving him to live with her parents, after she left your grandfather. Your father didn’t have a relationship with him until he was over thirty. He got raised by his grandparents. They loved him, yes, but they simply weren’t his parents.

The devil – how you liked to refer to your grandmother – snuck her way back into his life, right after he got married to your mother. You’d spent most of your childhood watching her eat away at your mother’s soul, keeping her small and belittled every step of the way. So, it was safe to say, your mother was unhappy – but she never took that bitterness out on you.

Your father, surprisingly, turned out to be a good father. Great, even. It was mostly your mother’s influence, but you could the spark of a great person, hidden behind all that suppressed anger.

You and your sister got really lucky with your parents, you knew that and you appreciated it. Appreciated them. You’d spend many nights of your childhood sleeping curled up between them and they never complained. There was always space for you. You had always felt the safest that way, not only as a child, but even as a teenager.

At some point that stopped of course, but you never felt any less safe around them. You had your problems like all families, but one thing was always a priority: your safety.

So, when your father told you to never get into a stranger’s car, you believed him and you listened. It wasn’t exactly that anyone ever tried to kidnap you. You got lucky in that regard as well. But the problem was, you had no idea what exactly would happen if someone did.

Of course you weren’t an idiot and not a virgin, either. You had sex with a few people, most of them regrets. Except for one. Your ex-boyfriend. The only meaningful thing you had ever had or so you thought.

You’d fallen in love with him like people did in movies – quick and relentless.

If he had asked you to die back then, you probably would have. Just to please him. That was how much you loved him. But of course he didn’t take advantage of it, not like that. He was a good person. Your parents raised you well in that regard – you recognized good people. And when you loved, you loved. So, you loved him for years.

But at some point life got in-between you, just like work and everything else – and in the end, you were alone. The love had simply not been there anymore, not in the way you both wished it had. Looking back, you still had no idea if there had been a main reason or many small reasons. Whatever it was - you broke up and now you were alone.

At twenty-five.

Probably not that bad, right?

But to you it felt like you were thirty-five, divorced with five children to raise on your own.

How were you supposed to start anew? Meet someone new?

The thought was almost ridiculous to you. You had never really been alone, it was a foreign concept to you. There were always either your family, your friends or your boyfriend.

But maybe, you thought, maybe you needed a change.

Maybe you needed to be alone, at least for a while. Really on your own.

You needed to face the struggles you had been spared so far. Maybe, you needed to build your own wardrobe. And if it took fucking weeks. Maybe you needed space.

A new space. For yourself. On your very own.

The thought had sounded tempting back in the day, but now, as you struggled to see through the dark, getting lost on Was this even a road? Oh God, had you lost the road? you weren’t so sure anymore.

You couldn’t tell why you had picked Seoul of all places. You hated big cities. You had grown up in a small town, facing the same people every day.

Safe.

Being young, you had hated it and only ever waited to grow up and move to a big city to live the fucking life. But the older you got and the more you understood how the world worked, the less tempting it became.

A small town sounded just perfect.

It wasn’t even really safe there, it wasn’t safe anywhere being a woman. But a big city sounded even more insane.

And yet you thought, that was just the way. Maybe you needed a little excitement, just to get back on track and finally feel alive again.

Being seventeen, life had felt endless. Up to the point where it almost annoyed you. Couldn’t you ever grow up enough to make your own decisions?

But now, being twenty-five and being able to make your own decisions, you had quickly realized: making decisions sucked. Probably not for everyone, but for you it sure did. Because somehow you felt like you always made the wrong ones.

So, you needed something new. A change of color, a new perspective, anything.

You were twenty-five, for God’s sake. But you felt like you were about to die.

So, you quit your job. It wasn’t the most sane decision, probably, but you soon realized you wanted more than the boring life of a retail worker in a small town with no chance at anything new.

SNU.

That was the way.

You’d do something reckless, something entirely insane.

Psychology maybe. Or neuroscience.

You had a great interest in many things, but you never finished anything. You just…existed. You didn’t burn for anything.

Until that one day that you called a landlord in Seoul, the day you sent away your university application…

And got accepted. By both.

Your family was devastated. Seoul wasn’t the end of the world, but sure enough it was far away. Too far to see them every day.

Your mother was especially bad. She had been crying more than you could take and so had you. You had begged and assured that you would come back – you just needed to do this. For you.

Eventually, she accepted it. But you saw the pain in her eyes and it was killing you. Even your tough-as-nails sister had cried. But what stung worst?

Your father.

Your father was a good man and he sure was a good father, but that didn’t mean he was soft. Looking back you had only ever seen him be strong for you. Crying? You had only seen him cry once. When his father died. And he didn’t even cry because of that, no, he cried because he had to leave you and your family behind to go to the funeral. He was only gone for a week, but it had been bad enough. The way he sat by your bed, his eyes red and stinging, in the middle of the night. You were still a kid back then, but the look in his eyes haunted you.

When you told him you would move away, he had protested just as much, but begrudgingly accepted it. That was until the day came.

He stood before you, his hands holding onto your arms just a fraction too tight – and you saw it. His red-rimmed eyes, his concern, his pain.

He was in pain because of you. They all were.

You would never forget that sight.

And yet, you went ahead and left.

They weren’t angry. Only heartbroken. But God, would you have preferred their anger.

Of course your father arranged everything with precision. You, him and a few of his friends had taken your stuff to your new apartment. Your mother had insisted to help you clean it. So, you’d spent days scrubbing and cleaning, while your sister stood-by, shooting you playful glares as she pretended to clean your windows, until your mother scolded her.

The apartment wasn’t big, but it was enough. It was yours.

Covered in paintings you liked and a few things from home you needed to keep you grounded. Family pictures all over of course. Your mothers oven cloths. The blue mug your sister bought you when you were still little. Your father’s black, worn-out jacket. It covered you almost whole and you needed it. You needed it all, because you needed them.

It would have been a good idea if one those times you went there, you had been the one to drive. But of course your father didn’t let you, because he didn’t want to make your life any harder than it was. So, he drove – and you had no idea how to get there on your own.

It wasn’t an all too long drive, only forty-five minutes. You went early enough, by three pm, but you somehow managed to fuck everything up and get lost anyway. So bad, that of course, it got dark outside.

Your life was a tragic comedy.

 It didn’t help that your battery was at fifteen percent. The clever thing would have been to call your father. But you didn’t want to, not yet at least. You didn’t want to be such a baby. And what would you have told him anyway?

Dad, I’m too dumb to read Google Maps. Can you come and pick me up?

He would, of course. But you could already picture your sister making fun of you for the rest of your life. You knew, in the end, she wanted you to be safe as well. But you wanted to make it on your own, just this one time.

But when you heard that God-awful sound, you knew you were in trouble.

Something about the engine wasn’t right, it made these sounds sometimes. But so far it had never smelled like smoke.

The moment you smelled it, you didn’t hesitate to hit the brakes. With wide eyes, you stared at the road ahead of you. No sight of a fucking city, just darkness and you were trapped here.

The panic you felt was unlike you had ever felt before. Everything else had been peanuts, but this was real. A real problem.

Your fingers curled around the steering wheel tightly and you took a deep, shaky breath in order to calm down.

“Fucking shit.”

You reached for your phone, already in dire need of whatever help you could get. So, you did what you had to and you dialed your father’s number.

But he didn’t pick up. Not by the first try, nor the second. Your mother had lost her phone only yesterday and your sister was most likely still at work. And there you were. Trapped.

You stared down at the phone in your hand, your eyes wide and your breath stuttering in your chest.

Should you call the police? And what would you tell them?

Please track my phone, I don’t know where I am and I don’t know how to drive a manual car.

Fuck.

You flinched when you saw the light in the rearview mirror.

Fuck. Fuck.

You were in the middle of the road – if one could call this muddy puddle a road. You quickly reached for the key and turned it in order to take your car to the side, but nothing. You turned it again and still.

Dead.

“Fuck!”

You kept yanking at the key, desperate to make anything work. Your brain was clouded, it was almost as if you suddenly forgot how to start a car. You pushed every button and pedal there was, but nothing happened.

“Oh, no…”

Your grip on the wheel tightened and you looked into the mirror again. The car behind you was waiting, almost patiently. You couldn’t see the driver, but your panic was making you nauseous.

You raised a hand as if to symbolize your apology – that you were doing your best. But still nothing.

You fumbled for your phone again, calling your father countless times.

“Pleasepleaseplease- Fuck!”

Your fingers were trembling.

Oh God, this was so embarrassing.

You looked into the mirror again. No honk to be heard. Whoever there was behind you was more patient than you were, because you began to hit your phone against the wheel, as if that would help you, anyway. You tugged on your hair and released a frustrated shriek.

“Fuck!”

It was only then that you saw it. A movement in the corner of your eye. His form approached your window in the darkness, gently tapping his knuckles against it. You flinched so violently, that he immediately took a step back. His eyes widened and he held up his hands, as if surrendering.

You stared at him like a madwoman.

Fuck. It couldn’t get any more embarrassing than this, right?

You swallowed and rolled the window down the tiniest bit. You could never know.

“I’m sorry.” You croaked out. “It won’t start. I’ll be gone in a minute, I promise.”

“It’s okay.” The man’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He raked a hand through his dark hair and looked back at his own car, before he met your gaze again. “What happened?” He suddenly frowned. “And what’s that smell?”

You sighed deeply and slumped back against the seat. “I don’t know. I just now smelled it and it won’t start. I don’t know what to-“

You felt a lump in your throat and you quickly forced your gaze away. Of course you’d end up crying to a stranger, the one time you tried to make it on your own.

He exhaled a slow breath. “It’s okay.” He said in a soft tone. “Take your time. I’m not in a hurry.”

His voice was so gentle and reassuring that the lump passed. You took a deep breath and tried to start the car again, but still nothing. You shot him a helpless look.

His expression was a mixture of concern and mild amusement. Not in a mocking way, the situation was just so…ridiculous. You couldn’t blame him.

“I could try, if you want me to.”

You bit your lip and glanced back down at your phone. What were the facts? It was dark and he was a stranger. But what else? You were alone and trapped. So, if you didn’t want to end up here all night…

You eyed him almost imperceptibly. He was a handsome man, maybe in his late thirties or early forties. He was wearing a suit and a mild smile. He didn’t exactly look like the axe murder type.

He caught your gaze and his expression softened further.

“I could also call the car service, if you’d prefer that.”

No. He wasn’t the murderous type.

But you didn’t want to cause more fuss than necessary.

You clutched your phone in one hand and your home keys in the other. One key between each finger, just like your father showed you. Then you shook your head.

“Maybe you could get it to work.” With a soft click, you opened the door. He took a respectful step back as you got out. Once you stood you realized he was even more handsome close-up. He was also much taller than you, but he didn’t really seem like the intimidating type. You took a step back, allowing him entrance.

He slid into the driver’s seat with a gentle elegance. He adjusted a few settings, before he tried to start the engine. The motor roared, but nothing more. And that burnt smell only ever got worse.

He crinkled his nose and shook his head. “Did that ever happen before?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so. It’s my father’s old car, so I’m not sure.”

He nodded. “Can I take a look?”

You shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He slid outside and circled the car. With a soft click he opened the bonnet. You used the moment to check him out further. He looked like a business man, probably on his way home from work. He didn’t wear a ring though. You had, at least, expected a wife. Would have made him less of a danger, right?

Maybe he was divorced.

Maybe he was a single father and his bitch wife left him and the children behind.

You decided to go with that story. That made you feel less uneasy. He was a good person, in that case. Working hard and taking care of his poor children.

Your focus quickly shifted back to the car the second you saw the smoke rise from under the hood.

“What the-“

“It’s okay.” He said immediately. “Cars don’t just explode. They only do that in movies.” He shot you a reassuring smile, though his forehead was still crinkled in a small frown. “I’m pretty sure it’s only overheated. Do you have any coolant on you?”

You stared at him with wide eyes, that one look enough to give away how helpless you were.

That made him smile, but only halfway.

“That’s okay. Maybe your father keeps it in the trunk? I’ll go take a look.”

With a soft sigh, you watched him circle the car again and open the trunk with ease.

“Oh, are you moving?” He called over as he caught sight of the last few items you were carrying from home, like a few backpacks, a computer and a plant you would, no question, end up killing anyway. But your mother insisted you took it with you.

“Yes.” You said hesitantly. “I’m moving to Seoul.”

“I am from Seoul.” He said calmly, as he rummaged through the things in order to find something helpful. “You’re quite a bit off the road here.”

His words sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. “And what are you doing here then?”

You knew how stupid it sounded, almost accusing. But you couldn’t help it. You still heard your father’s voice in your head. A quick glance down at your phone showed you that still no-one had called back.

He pulled his head back and regarded you with an understanding smile. “I work not far from here. You might even have passed by. It’s actually impossible to miss. A great, grey building complex with a stallion up front. We sell Mercedes cars.”

You thought back to it and indeed. You remembered the horse.

“That’s where you work?”

He nodded. “Unfortunately, I’m not as good at repairing cars as I am at selling them.” His smile softened and he quietly closed the trunk. “I don’t have any coolant on me either, I’m afraid. That’s my company car, not my private one. It’s mostly to show off.”

That made your own expression soften. “No, no, that’s not your…I’ll call my father.” You were already dialing again. But, fucking shit, he didn’t pick up. He always picked up his phone and today, of course, he didn’t.

He stood opposite you and looked at you curiously. “Will it take him long to get here? I wouldn’t want to leave you here alone. I can wait with you, until he arrives.”

You looked down at the phone in your hands, a soft sigh on your lips. “It might take him a while. I just moved out today and I was hoping…” You looked at him with a tilt of your head and a careful smile. “I was hoping I would make it at least a day without having to call him.”

His expression softened even more, loosening his handsome features into something you really enjoyed looking at.

“I understand.” He murmured. “Listen, I could have the car service here within a few minutes. I will gladly pay for it.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and your head snapped up. That was a really generous offer and you simply didn’t expect it. Maybe it wasn’t really necessary to keep your guard up all the time. Maybe not all people were bad. Though your father did make it sound like most of them were.

“That’s very kind, but I cannot accept that. But thank you. Really. I’ll just…” You shrugged and smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll just call my father. It’s not that big of a deal.”

He regarded you with a thoughtful look and you suddenly realized, he must think I’m stupid. If I want to call my father, why am I not already talking to him? Fuck, because he isn’t picking up his goddamn phone.

Before you could say anything more though, he spoke up. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you know, I could just take you to the garage.”

When you didn’t answer at first, he shrugged. “I don’t have any coolant, but I sure do have a tow bar.”

The thought of getting this done without your families help sounded tempting, but the thought of getting in his car still made you feel uneasy. No matter how nice he was being, he was still a stranger – and you knew what those could do. You had watched enough documentaries to know everyone from Jim Jones to Richard Ramirez.

“I…”

He held up his hands again. “No pressure. As I said, I’ll gladly wait with you until your father arrives.”

You took a quick glance at your phone and bit your lip. It was almost six. Until your father arrived, it would be at least seven. And you already heard your sister’s voice in your head.

I knew you couldn’t make it on your own. Silly little thing, moving to Seoul.

She had pulled you out of trouble more than once and she had never shut up about it. Eventually, you looked up to meet his gaze again. “I don’t want to be any trouble.”

He smiled at that. Soft. Reassuring. Almost trustworthy.

“I promise you, you’re not. I’m not exactly a knight, but I wouldn’t forgive myself if I left you here like this.”

A few moments later, you finally gave in.

How bad could it possibly end? After all, he had the ghost of a wife and his poor children at home, right?