#THAT KILLED ME. GOT ME RIGHT IN THE HEART.

[lifewithchronicpain]

A lot of people like to make grand pronouncements about animal welfare when they have no idea of the reality. They’ll say only people with the right home and income should get a pet and then shit on “kill” shelters. So you want the animal to starve and suffer to death, because a home is not good enough to you? if you shit on any animal welfare and rescue that doesn’t meet your uninformed standards, then you’re leaving pets behind to starve and die in the most painful of ways.

Animals are living creatures that can end up with a poor family through a variety of circumstances that don’t involve going out and purchasing one. Because that’s the reality of living fucking animals. They breed, they wander, they come into our lives in the most unexpected of ways.

I foster from a local municipal shelter and you know what they do? They will foster your animal if you’re going through a hardship like lost housing and needing to find a new place, or a hospital stay for weeks. They also provide meals and low cost vet services. They do everything in their power to keep pets with the owner they know and love, because it actually costs less to do that then to just snatch a pet and put it up for adoption. That is something that makes a lot more sense to me than proclaiming like you’re god who should be able to have a pet.

Another thing too, no-kill shelters are actually really shitty of letting go of their animals. They have such high standards for adoption, sometimes it’s like they think you’re adopting a baby not a dog. I went through this problem where I got denied adoption because we missed my late dogs yearly heart worm test due to the fucking pandemic. Eventually we found our new dog in a municipal shelter.

And yes as a foster I have lost foster pets to euthanasia and it sucks, but I understood why it happened. They were too sick and the shelter invested a lot in both those cats but it didn’t work out and instead of letting them suffer they did the responsible and humane thing. That’s the reality of animal rescue.

City shelters serve a community, private no-kill ones are often vanity projects, with consistently little space because they don’t like to adopt out over a missed heart worm test.

“Kill shelters” are the shelters you need to donate to.

“But shrimp!! Kill shelters are evil!!”

No, shut up, listen to me for a second.

“Kill shelter” is a colloquial term used primarily for Town/City (aka municipal) shelters that rely on incredibly limited government grant funding to operate.

These shelters, by the very nature of their existence, DO NOT HAVE the funds to operate like private rescues do.

On top of this, they’re also *legally required* to take in ANY animal that comes to them. Even if they’re full. Or they’ll lose all of their funding.

This is what leads them to needing to euthanize for space. Is euthanizing for space sad? Yes. But due to the current crisis, it’s also NECESSARY.

These shelters are constantly overfull. They’re STRUGGLING. They don’t have the funds to operate properly. And yet these municipal, government funded, struggling shelters are the same ones that are most likely to be providing care for owned animals in the community

Municipal (“kill”) shelters are the ones hosting low cost spay and neuter clinics. They’re the ones discounting vaccination appointments and microchipping. They’re the ones that have pet food banks so struggling pet owners can feed their pets that week.

These shelters are not evil. They’re doing the absolute best they can with the bare minimum funding they get.

These people are incredibly resourceful and care very deeply about the animals in their care. It breaks their heart every time they have to euthanize an animal that couldn’t get adopted.

These underfunded shelters need your money significantly more than that fancy private rescue you see on TikTok or instagram that has a beautiful facility and has never had to euthanize an animal ever.

Support your local shelters and they will give back to the community thousand fold.

Sincerely, an animal welfare student who’s tired of seeing the hardest working professionals shat on because of circumstances they can’t control.

[kooggukk]

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 BEYOND THE JOB // JJK ; 2

daddy jungkook (literally)

; babysitting the cutest angel on earth is the perfect job. (except when her father is fucking hot and wants all of you)

+ comment to be added to the taglist

— 2/??

<< previous | next >>

“i told you i could just look after her for you.” the raven haired man said while doing nabi’s pigtails that she loves so much.

“you have your own job too, taehyung.” jungkook simply replied, “plus, you’re always near killing her when you’re left alone.”

taehyung scoffed, taking it by heart as he tied the final loop of nabi’s pigtails. “killing her? don’t be dramatic. she’s perfectly fine with me, right nabi?”

she giggled and taehyung picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. the boring, quiet house was now filled with her sweet laughs. “hey! see now? put her— tae!” jungkook went to reach for his daughter, but the man ran away, nabi’s pigtails swinging and bouncing.

“you’re gonna drop her!”

“you know i won’t!”

“but anything could happen any second-“

taehyung stopped, playfully throwing nabi down on the soft mattress of the couch. “you ever have some fun, man? jesus..”

jungkook rolled his eyes at his words, “i can have fun too!”

“be for real, the last time you had fun was probably when you made nabi— ow!” taehyung laughed but instantly stopped when he felt a slap on his neck.

“watch your mouth?” he whispered, pointing to nabi. taehyung turned around and noticed how she was unbothered, being in her own little world playing with her princess dolls.

“calm down, the fuck. she ain’t even paying attention to us— i mean, you. right nabi?” taehyung asked the last part loudly with a huge grin, glancing at her.

he turned back with a smile to jungkook when she nodded, “see? i’m always in the center of her attention. she loves me, dude. you know that too!”

“of course i know she loves you, you’re like the second dad.”

“whoa, we ain’t gay—“ taehyung put his hands up in surrender.

“not like that!” jungkook smacked his neck again, “you’re her uncle, besides you and me, she got nobody else.”

“you ever thought of dating again?”

jungkook let out a sigh of frustration. “you at this again? i told you— at least a million times already that i don’t want to.”

taehyung shrugged and fixed the blanket next to nabi. “dunno, you could’ve changed your mind since then.”

“well, i haven’t.”

“okay, great to know. so, i guess i should cancel the blind date i planned?” taehyung asked with a raised brow.

“the hell, tae?!”

“jokin’..” he laughed but he quickly took his phone out, typing a message to someone. jungkook watched in disbelief, shaking his head as he checked the time.

“you should go, she could be here any moment now.”

“what? you won’t even let me meet the person who’s gonna spend all day with my precious angel?” he feigned hurt, pouting.

“you can, just another time.”

jungkook crossed his arms while taehyung kept his pout on with his puppy eyes, “no. that looks weird on you, grow up. stop it.”

he cursed at jungkook in a whisper, reaching his hand out to nabi. “nabi, come on. say goodbye to tata.”

she got up and walked to him, holding his hand. he bent down to plant a kiss on her hair, “am i the best?” he whispered to her. she smiled and nodded, “the best!”

“just go already,” jungkook scoffed and pushed taehyung. he opened the door but stopped, “what?” jungkook asked and looked to the door.

you stood there, about to press the bell. “oh,” jungkook rushed to the door and pushed taehyung aside.

he looked at jungkook and then back at you. “is this her?” he asked, unbothered if he sounded rude. jungkook gave him a look but nodded, already knowing what’s gonna happen next.

taehyung turned to you, looking you up and down. he hummed and that made something weird in your stomach, as if you were being looked down on.

“hey, i’m taehyung, single—“ he couldn’t finished as he got pushed out of the door. “bye tae!” jungkook said and stepped aside to let you in.

you glanced at taehyung and you saw him make a ‘call me’ sign with a smile before he turned his back to you, walking away.

“sorry about that,” jungkook embarrassedly apologized as you both got inside. “it’s alright. is he your friend?” you asked, taking off your coat.

he nodded and took the outerwear from you, neatly hanging it. you mumbled a thanks and you took off your shoes too, placing them nicely next to the wall. “yeah, he can be kind of annoying.”

you both settled down on the couch, and after jungkook got a glass of orange juice for you, it was now discussion time.

“so, i have a set of keys hanged next to the coats, those are yours. i wrote the names of the doors on the keys to not switch them up. gate, front door, basement. i also got a key for nabi’s room if it would be an emergency.”

he explained everything and you nodded, taking a sip. “she usually eats lunch around 2PM, the latest is 3. if you’re out and get back late, just wait till’ dinner.”

he leaned a little closer to make sure nabi doesn’t hear him, but it was useless because she wasn’t paying attention anyways. “i have chocolate ice cream in the bottom drawer of the freezer, if she’s having a huge— and i mean huge tantrum, give her a small cup and she’ll be nice again.”

you laughed and nodded, “does she have allergies?” you asked. he hummed and shook his head, leaning back to his original seat.

“no, nothing that i know of. she got it checked a few months ago and she can eat anything.”

“oh god— food. she’s hella picky.” jungkook sighed and glanced at her, then back at you.

“first of all, peppers. she doesn’t like the seeds inside, so i always cut them in thin lines to make sure none gets in there. same with grapes, oranges and tangerines. literally anything that has seeds, needs to be picked out. except tomatoes, thank god.”

“whoa, i never met someone who doesn’t eat the seeds.” you said, looking at her.

“she says because it’s soft food, and the seeds are hard. i dunno, i guess it’s.. nabi logic or something.” he waved his hand, leaving the topic.

“next, bread. always cut the bread crust off. it once poked her gums and she wouldn’t eat it since then.”

“i don’t like the crust either, so that’s not an issue.”

he looked at you weirdly, “the crust is the best part of a freshly baked bread.”

you shrugged, “i don’t like it.”

after a good 5 minutes long discussion about bread crust, jungkook lead you to a door. “and lastly, this is your room.”

you step inside, taking in the decor. it wasn’t much different from the other furnitures in the house, “it’s the guest room,” jungkook broke the silence.

you turned to him with a nod, “it’s really nice. thank you.”

“it used to be my office so there might be a few papers or folders in one of the drawers, just let me know if you find anything.”

“yeah, of course.”

“you can bring as many decorations as you want in here, i want you to feel the most comfortable. you can move in whenever, i won’t rush you.”

he saw the hesitation written on your face, and he panicked that he must have misunderstood the situation.

“or— you don’t have to move in obviously! i just thought you’d be with nabi from early hours to late afternoons, sometimes even nights therefor-“

he ranted, his eyes going everywhere in the room but your eyes, his hands in a fist next to his body. he was nervous, afraid he made a woman, — he made you uncomfortable.

“i understand, don’t worry. and i think i’ll just spend a few days a week. if that’s alright?”

“yeah!” his tone was more excited than he intended to be, he cleared his throat. “yeah that’s fine.”

you smiled at his clumsy behavior, your eyes looking around the room once again. “oh, i wanted to ask you something.” you turned to him.

“yeah?”

“the man, who was here before, does he come over a lot? i don’t want unexpected people to show up when i’m alone with nabi.”

“oh, taehyung. well yeah, a few days a week but he also has his own job, so don’t worry. and he knows i wouldn’t be here, so i doubt he’d come over.”

you nodded as he explained, walking out the room and heading to the living room, where nabi was still occupied.

“i could—“ jungkook started and he hurried in front of you, stopping you with his arms reached out. “i could write a list of names and their phone numbers about whom to trust and reach out to if i’m not available.”

“oh, that’d he helpful. thank you,” you smiled and jungkook got lost for a second, your lips looking wetter than they did a minute ago, shining beautifully.

“i have a very close friend of mine, her name is sasha.” you said and he got his attention back, looking at you dumbfounded as what you wanted to say.

“uh, like— if i ever go out with nabi, would it be a problem if sasha comes along with us?” your voice was uncertain, if he said no it would be damn embarrassing and awkward.

he hummed as he hesitated, scratching his head. “i mean i guess? you said she’s your friend, so i believe she’s not a serial killer..” he joked, or half joked, maybe didn’t even joke about it but you laughed and his shoulders relaxed.

“no, she’s not. she was my co-worker, i can give you her number if an emergency were to happen.”

“sure, that’d be nice.”

┈ ⪩⪨   ┈

the first week of taking care of nabi wasn’t so horrible, better than you expected. she was really calm, sometimes too calm and quiet. you didn’t think much about it, telling yourself she gotta get used to you.

one day she was sweet like an angel, asking to play dolls with her, “__! play barbie with me!” she didn’t ask, she commanded you to play it with her.

so you did, you sat down on the floor across her, holding another blonde barbie doll. it was going fine, until she— or more like her ‘barbie’ talked bad about your doll.

“ew! your dress is so not cool!” her tone was high pitched, you gasped. “oh my! that’s not so nice of you, nabi.”

“i didn’t say that, it was her!” she held up her doll.

you got lost in your thoughts that day, afraid she might grow up thinking it was fine to judge others’ appearance. you know that she’s aware it’s just games, but what if she thinks it’s just as fine to do that in real life as with dolls?

then some other days, she just wouldn’t say one single word to you. she would mumble a few ‘thank you’s when you give her juice or make food, but she wouldn’t ask you to play with her, go out for a walk, watch a show. nothing.

when you would be the one suggesting to go outside, she’d shake her head. “everything okay, sweetheart?” you asked when you walked from the kitchen to her, holding a plate of cookies.

she didn’t look up at you but she gave you nod, “i brought cookies. chocolate, the one you like.” you put it down but she completely ignored it, continuing to draw.

you watched her in silence, maybe you were the one doing something wrong? maybe your cookies aren’t tasty? maybe you said something that she misunderstood?

all the bad possibilities flew to your mind, stressing you out. you sat down on the couch, zoning out but not completely. you saw nabi move from the corner of your eye, she walked up to you with two dolls.

“you wanna play?”

…

she just shrugged, giving you the same doll she did the other day, which made you remember what she had said.

it started fine, she said some stuff about horses and playgrounds, but then it happened again. she randomly changed the topic, saying your doll’s hair was ugly and it’d be better to buzz it off.

you put the doll down, “nabi, don’t be so mean. you know you can’t say stuff like that, right?”

“you can’t say someone’s dress is not cool or their hair isn’t as pretty as yours. you might think it’s okay because these are just dolls, but no. treat them like you would treat a friend.”

“i have no friends.”

your heart sank. you never asked about friends, assuming she had them. what a disgusting thing you did. assume.

you felt horrible, ashamed. “i’m sorry angel.” you placed your hand on her small back, and that’s when the door opened.

jungkook walked in, looking a bit like a mess but the tiredness left him as soon as nabi ran to him. he smiled but then frowned, hearing her sobs.

you widened your eyes, confused why she was crying now. you stood up and jungkook stared at you, picking up his daughter. “what’s wrong?”

he asked her, but she gave him no reply. he looked at you again for answers but you shook your head, no idea what was going on with her. “ya, it’s fine, stop crying.” he kicked off his shoes and carried her to her bedroom.

you waited, patiently sitting on the couch.

“she’s okay?” you asked when he got back, plopping down next to you.

“yeah, but she wouldn’t tell me what happened.”

you stayed silent, staring at the turned off tv in front of you.

“did you.. say something to her?” he asked, trying to sound as polite as possible.

you snapped your head towards him, “no, nothing bad that i know of.”

“what did you talk about?”

“we were playing with her dolls and she started talking bad about my doll, for the second time this week. so, i told her it’s not nice and she shouldn’t do that. she needs to be nice, not judge the dolls.”

he listened carefully, resting his head on his arm.

“i told her to treat them like she would treat a friend. i didn’t know she doesn’t have friends..”

jungkook sighed, “she must say those things because some girls used to be rude to her at daycare. that’s why i got you instead, i don’t want her to be raised in a place like that.”

“i’m so sorry i brought that topic up in front of her, i should’ve acted like a mature person and think before saying anything— god, i feel awful.”

“you don’t have to, you didn’t know.”

“but i assumed..”

“so? that’s just how the brain works, social life and friends are normal and common, we assume everyone has them.”

he saw how much this affected you too, he scooted a little closer and placed his big hand on your shoulder. “don’t feel bad. she’s fine, she will be fine.”

you groaned, throwing your head back. “i know..”

he chuckled, noticing how exhausted you looked by the end of the week. “was she fine tho? how was your week with her? i hope she’s not too.. horrible to you.”

you shook your head, giving him a look then closing your eyes. “she’s fine. a little quiet but that shouldn’t be a bad thing, right?”

“right. better than a child who runs around yelling all day.”

“oh i hope that day never comes. i wouldn’t survive that.” silence fell in the room after a round of small laughing.

“you had lunch?” he asked you out of the sudden, looking at the clock. almost 5PM.

“yeah, i cooked her some of those dino nugg—“

“no, i meant, you. did you have lunch?”

oh. how embarrassing..!

“no, i didn’t.” you sighed, sitting up straight.

“come on, then.” he stood up, walking to the kitchen. you frowned, “what?”

“let’s eat.”

“it’s late, almost dinner time.”

“then, let’s eat dinner. call it whatever you want.” he shrugged, taking off his hoodie which he threw on the armchair when he walked past it.

“i can eat at home, it’s fine.”

“__.”

wow, there was something in his tone, commanding, strict. he stood in the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed, staring at you. he jerked his head towards the kitchen, signaling you to follow.

“please, eat with me. it’d be late when you get home, i don’t want you to cook at that hour. come on,”

his voice wasn’t aggressive nor loud, but yet it had a firmness, leaving no room for argument.

“also, it’s already getting dark. stay for tonight.”

taglist: @ahgasegotarmy116 @joonlover1207 @starlight-1010 @kingtinaa

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Start of Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: angst, panic attack, almost fainting, fluff at the end

Summary: Hotch is the only parent you have left, so you’re a bit overprotective of him. When he comes up with a plan to stop an unsub, you’re the only one who’s not on board.

Square Filled: fainting for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: this fic is based on the song "Start of Time" by Gabrielle Aplin. I also pulled inspiration from that scene in Teen Wolf where Lydia kissed Stiles for the first time since he was having a panic attack. You all know the scene.

x

“You’re kidding, right?” You look at Rossi. “Is he kidding? Did I hear him right?”

“No, you heard it right,” Hotch sighs.

“No, you’re not going to do that. End of discussion. You’re not going to put your life on the line for some psychopath.”

“You have no authority over me.”

“That’s bullshit.”

You slam your hands on the table and leave the briefing room to calm yourself down. Spencer watches you leave with a frown, itching to go after you to comfort you.

“Y/N!” Hotch calls after you, but you ignore him.

“I’ll go after her,” Spencer says and leaves the briefing room.

Hotch looks at Rossi who just shrugs. “Don’t look at me. You said it was fine to have your daughter on the team.”

You’d normally not go after Hotch’s throat like that but he’s the only parent you have left since your mother died a few years ago. Anything that puts his life on the line, you immediately object to. He understands you’re looking out for him but he has a job to do. You knew this when you signed up to be in the FBI academy.

You walk into the bathroom and turn the faucet on to splash some water on your face. The thought of your dad going in to face off against a psychopath and dying makes your heart race and sweat build up on your neck. You look around the empty bathroom and squeeze your eyes shut tightly to ward off the panic attack.

The door opens and Spencer walks in without a word. He immediately pulls you into a hug that slows your racing heart. He calms you down before the panic attack can get too far, and you hug Spencer back. He rubs your back and sighs knowing all you’re ever going to see him as is a friend. He likes you a lot but you haven’t given him any indication that you like him back, so he’s kept his feelings for you a secret. The last thing he’s going to do is tell you how he feels, especially not now when all you’re worried about is your dad.

“Sorry,” you whisper and pull away from him.

“Don’t ever be sorry.”

“You have to help me, Spencer. He wants to go inside that bank alone. Make him change his mind.”

“Y/N…”

“Patrick is one of the worst unsubs we’ve ever dealt with. He kills for fun, for sport. If my dad goes in there alone, he’ll kill him. He’s my only family, Spencer. Make him change his mind.”

“I know.” Spencer sighs. “I can’t promise anything but there might be another way to get to Patrick.”

Patrick has the same tragic backstory as all the other unsubs, and he’s hellbent on making humanity suffer for what he went through. He has so much anger for humans that he’s taking out anyone and everyone. He went to rob a bank to fund his trip across the pond, and he’s taken the entire bank hostage. The only reason he hasn’t killed them all is because they might be the key to getting him out of there alive.

Your job is to get the hostages out safely before SWAT can move in on Patrick. Hotch wants to go in and negotiate with Patrick into letting the hostages go, but you can’t fathom the idea of him going in there with someone like Patrick. SWAT and local police already have the streets blocked off to prevent anyone else from getting hurt.

“Garcia, were you able to get the blueprints of the bank?” Hotch asks when the team arrives.

“Yes, and because there are the sewers below it, I also got the layout for that as well. It might be your only way into the bank.”

She lays out the blueprints on the hood of the police car and Derek traces the pipes from the bank to a manhole cover that’s a block away with his finger.

“We can get into the bank through here. Looks like there is a gate blocking the way in, so we’ll have to break it. We’ll need someone on the inside to distract him so he doesn’t hear us.”

“Alright, Morgan, take Prentiss and three officers with you through the sewers. Wait for my word.”

They leave immediately, and Spencer looks at you in worry.

“Who is going to go inside and distract?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch answers.

He and Rossi step off to the side, and you look at the bank in concern.

“It’s going to be okay,” Spencer comforts you.

“I hope so. Sometimes I wonder if it was right for me to take this job.”

“What do you mean?”

“After my mom died, my dad got overprotective of me. He kept warning me of the dangers of this world. I wanted to help people like him, and the academy seemed like the right thing to do. My dad is the Unit Chief of the BAU. That had some pull in the academy. I was looking at a job upstate as an officer, but then a spot opened on the team. I wanted to be closer to my dad so I took the job. Now, I see the horrors of this job and every opportunity to lose him. He’s the best dad I could ask for. I don’t think I could bear losing him to someone like Patrick.”

Spencer pulls you in for a hug and rubs your back.

“That won’t happen.”

You look at the bank once more and your face is twisted in horror. Your dad is walking toward the bank’s front doors… alone.

“Dad!” You push Spencer away and start to run toward him. However, arms wrap around your waist to prevent you from following him. “No, let me go! Dad! Dad, please don’t go!”

Your dad disappears inside the bank, and you break down in tears. Rossi keeps his arms around you until he knows you’re not going to run after him. You step back from Rossi as a panic attack hits you in the face. Suddenly, you can’t breathe and your heart is beating too fast for you to keep up with.

“You need to calm down, Y/N,” Spencer says.

“I… can’t… I… Da…”

Hot tears are running down your cheeks, and you start hyperventilating at the thought of your dad dying right now. You're gonna faint.

“Kid, get her to calm down,” Rossi says.

Spencer doesn’t think twice about this. He grabs you and plants his lips over yours. Your eyes widen in shock but you close them once you feel how natural it is to kiss Spencer. Your heart rate slows down, your head becomes clear, and you relax against Spencer’s body. He pulls away from you but stays close enough so that the only thing you see is him.

His honey-brown eyes are warm and comforting, and his lips are soft and swollen from the kiss. Suddenly, you hear gunshots go off inside the bank, and that breaks you out of your trance. You push Spencer away from you and book it toward the bank without a second thought. This time, no one holds you back.

The hostages are in the corner with the three officers, Patrick is lying on the ground bleeding from a gunshot wound on his shoulder, and all three BAU agents are standing above him with their guns on him. Most importantly, your dad is alive and well. You immediately run over to your dad and hug him, thankful that he survived this.

“I was always going to be fine, Y/N.”

“I thought I lost you,” you cry.

“I’m right here.”

Patrick is arrested, the hostages are saved, and no one got hurt. Now that you’re back at the BAU, you have time to think about what Spencer did to you. Spencer is at his desk finishing some paperwork when you approach him from behind.

“Hey, Spencer.”

He turns around and smiles when he sees you. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good now. Thank you for…”

You can’t finish your sentence but Spencer knows what you’re saying.

“Yeah, anytime,” he nods.

“You kissed me.”

“I know. I was there.”

“There are other ways to stop a panic attack. Why did you kiss me?”

“I read once that holding your breath can stop a panic attack so when I kissed you, you held your breath.”

“I did?” you whisper.

“Yeah, you did.”

“Was that the only reason you kissed me?”

Spencer opens his mouth to answer but decides against what he really wants to say. “Yes.”

Your face falls in disappointment but you bounce back quickly in hopes he didn’t see it.

“Oh, well, thank you.”

You pass by him to walk away when he grabs your hand. He sees the disappointment, and he takes that as his sign. He stands and pulls you closer to him, and you look into his eyes hopefully.

“That wasn’t the only reason. I like you a lot.”

You smile. “Well, I like you a lot.”

“I know this Indian place with really good food. Want to get dinner with me?”

“Yes,” you smile.

Hotch stands by his window and watches everyone work. He sees you and Spencer by his desk, and he definitely sees the smile on your face. Spencer grabs your hand and leaves with you, and Hotch smiles. Spencer is a good guy, and you’d do well with someone like him.

x

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[sleepyeepyp3rson]

wwe/pro fighters!141 x announcer!reader (pt 2.)

Two losses in a row, a broken arm, and a complete disruption of the script. Add it all up, and it's trouble for you. So much so that your boss, Shepherd, called you into his office and told you to fix it. Or else. Not ominous at all.

an: oh yeah buddy pt 2. tried to do a pov switch (?) hope it isnt too confusing lmao. tried to keep reader as gender neutral as possible. dee vs accents, dee vs giving the reader a nickname

tw: nothing much, tagging these just to be safe. reader is told to "cover up more" and be less of a distraction, soap is a clingy, overenthusiastic little guy, reader briefly wants to kill their boss

(masterlist, 1)

"Four against three. One with a broken arm. Tell me how, in less than two matches, a team with a perfect track record loses twice and completely disrupts the script?"

You start, but Shepherd interrupts you. "They got distracted, that's how." He stands and starts pacing, looming over you. "The 141 boys were supposed to win last night. That's the script, that's why we did the promo the way we did it. And they, pro wrestlers with years of experience, got distracted."

He slams his hand down on the desk.

"Fix it." A finger in your face. "I don't care how! Cover up more, talk less, I don't care. Fix it!"

And like that, you're dismissed. Left standing outside his office door like some puppy. You want to march right back in there and slam his stupid, deformed pug-looking face right into his desk. But you can't. You need this job. It's your dream and your only source of income.

So you go home, and you stare into the mirror for a good ten minutes.

Okay. Just... talk less. Easy. You can shut up, you can stop talking. Not like you're the only announcer anyway, you have your coworkers. But how would that even work? You're an announcer. You announce things! Are you just supposed to not do your job? Does Shepherd not know why he hired you? Is he not the one signing the checks?

You settle for wearing a turtleneck the next day.

Pulling into the parking lot is no problem, neither is passing through security and going backstage, but the second you pass the men's locker room on the way to your booth, you're stopped.

"Aye, bonnie!" An arm makes its way over your shoulders, and turning your head, you see a familiar sharp grin.

"Soap." You shrug him off. Usually, it's fine, just him being touchy as normal, but you were told to sort out the distraction problem, to take up less space in the company, so you need to do that.

A flash of hurt passes over his face, and it stabs at your heart. "You can call me Johnny-" You shake your head. You did, before the whole almost losing your job thing.

You walk away before he can pull out the puppy eyes.

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

"Somethin''s up with our announcer."

Gaz pokes his head up at that. "Sunshine?" At Soap's nod, he curses and stops his stretches. Ghost looks up too, eyes narrowed, always watching.

"Knew something was off when I saw the turtleneck. Never worn one of 'em before." He huffs, looking at the little TV they have in the room to see what's going on. "I mean, steamin' Jesus. Thing swallows 'em. Like I'm watching a live show of a nunnery."

"Somethin' wrong?" Price chooses that moment to look up from his cigar and actually pay attention to the conversation.

"Aye. Sunshine's a bit too quiet, ye ken?"

Price hums, running a hand over his face and beard. "A bit concerning. Not like 'em to be quiet for so long. Someone say something?"

Gaz and Soap look at each other, clearly not considering that option, then back at the TV.

"Maybe we should look into it." Ghost speaks up for the first time, voice a low mix of a whisper and grumble as he fixes a few stray stitches in his costume. "Saw 'em leave Shepherds office yesterday. Could pay 'im a little visit."

Price stands, groaning and rubbing a hand on his lower back. He really needs to use those ice packs his PT gave him. "I'll go. Stay low for now, prep for that interview."

A chorus of "Aye, Cap" rings out, and Price exits the locker room.

Soap waits for a few seconds before he rises, and is immediately tugged right back down by Ghost. A dog on a leash, he is. "Don't you even think about it, Johnny. You give 'im enough of a headache."

He grumbles, but he slumps down in his seat, eyeing the TV. Eyeing you. (And that stupid turtleneck.)

[revelboo]

My brother got me the boi (late Christmas cause he has hypersomnia so it's hard to plan things). I immediately unboxed him and started futzing around.

Ignore my messy bedside table in the background.

Ah! The best boi! Mine arrives tomorrow I think

Bad Idea Pt 18

TFP Soundwave x Reader

• Soundwave’s only response to his drone screaming his new favorite phrase had been to stare at you for an unsettlingly long time and then flash a little heart emoji at you before heading to his desk to work on reports. And Lazerbeak had winged closer to you. Even as expressionless as he is, you’re almost certain the little gremlin is smirking at you. “You’re an absolute troll, you know that right?” You hiss as big bird tips his head at you and croaks.

• Listening to you grumble at his drone and Lazerbeak’s amused chortling in response, something settles inside him at the sound. Lazerbeak comfortable enough to pick at you like he had his siblings and how long has it been since he’s heard Lazerbeak sound happy? Teasing and relaxed. He’s missed this so much. Keeping his attention divided between work and the two of you, he reaches out a tendril to hook around your ankle. Letting the feel of you, the sound of you and Lazerbeak squabbling, ground him. Feeling at home for the first time in forever, even if it’s chased by guilt. By the feeling he doesn’t deserve to be happy.

• Glancing down at the tendril coiled around your ankle, then at Soundwave tipping his head just enough to see you as his servos move steadily over his alien keyboard, you relax. Aware that he’s watching over you both. Eavesdropping even though you can’t be too annoyed with him for it since he’s most likely just waiting to see if he needs to separate you two like little kids. And while the drone is an absolute demon, you’re pretty sure they’re a package deal. You’ve got to at least try to get along with big bird for your big cryptid boyfriend’s sake. Though, you’re not entirely sure boyfriend is the right word for whatever the two of you are. Maybe he’s just got a xenophilia kink and you’re scratching that itch. Who knows?

• Servos moving on his keyboard, he hesitates when a new request comes through from Shockwave. Unusual in of itself, since Shockwave prefers to figure things out hands on. Opening the request, he freezes, because he’s asking for information on human reproduction and sexual health. And he just stares at the screen, tendrils flicking because he knew the unhinged scientist had a human that he’d somehow not managed to turn inside out or otherwise kill. But why ask about that?

• It’s the fact that Soundwave’s steady tapping has stopped that makes you and the drone both look over. And the big guy is just staring at his screen of alien gibberish and not moving at all, except for the restless thrashing of all his tendrils but the one around your ankle. Watching as the drone wings over to land on his shoulder and peer at the screen before making that croaking noise you’ve decided is probably laughter. Because whatever the screen says is apparently hysterically funny and you’re left out from the joke.

Previous

[save-the-villainous-cat]

If you're open for suggestions for spooky month, i would like to see a hero saving vampire villain from a hunter pleeaaase you can make it spicy at the end if you want

"Hm..." The hero tilted their head and stared at the hunter.

The hunter they had handcuffed to the streetlight, the hunter they had beaten bloody. The hero wasn't proud of it, but they could allow themselves at least a little bit of satisfaction, right?

"Don't think you can push up your score by hunting in my district, alright? Consider that next time, I am quite territorial after all..." The hunter was barely able to let out a grunt. Blood was dripping down their sides, but the hero didn't deem it serious enough to call an ambulance.

Instead, they observed the hunter's weapon in their hand, weighing it lazily.

"Killing for money is pretty nasty," the hero said. "You're quite capable, but this job? Damn. Cruel."

Once again, the hunter didn't answer and the hero simply shrugged.

"Oh, man. Tough crowd." Their attention shifted and they decided they'd let the hunter rot there for the time being. After all, the hero was out for bigger fish. Their gaze lingered on the alleyway first. They supposed the hunter had caught the villain and they must have gotten very lucky, considering that the hunter was still in one piece.

Upon investigation, the hero did find the villain bound in chains, metal burning through flesh, but their nemesis was quiet. Almost immediately, the hero dropped next to them and did their best to free their nemesis from the chains.

They made sure to stay alerted, preparing themselves for anything, but they didn't expect their nemesis to let their head drop, resting it on the hero's shoulder.

"You there?" The hero heard them take in a deep breath.

"Shut up," the villain mumbled.

"You're pretty weak..." The hero pressed their palm against the villain's forehead, but realized quickly that wouldn't give them any information whatsoever.

Still. Touch was still touch.

"Shush. You always talk so much," the villain murmured.

The hero was a little aimless; something like this had never happened before. The villain had never been this close to them, nor had they ever had a conversation that didn't completely consist of threats. Whatever the hunter had done to their nemesis, it was pretty disgusting.

The hero knew the villain was mostly drug-resistent but still, the hero considered the possibility of them being poisoned. What else could have weakened them like this? They weren't injured, except for the burns of the metallic chains.

If there was some kind of new poison going around, the hero needed to know about it.

"...do you..." They took in a breath. It was probably incredibly irresponsible. "...do you want some blood from me?"

The villain raised their head and the hero realized they cradled their own nemesis a little too lovingly.

They cleared their throat when they saw the villain's puppy eyes stare at them. Their pupils were blown up.

"Blood?" The villain let their gaze wander to the hero's throat, their eyes were sleepy and definitely not as sharp as the maniacal stare that came over them whenever they got hungry.

"Just a little," the hero clarified. "I'd like to ask you a few questions and I need reliable answers."

"...okay, fine." The hero didn't think they were blushing, but for some reason, their cheeks felt pretty hot.

They bowed down and the villain's icy fingers quickly grabbed the back of the hero's neck carefully. They even slipped under the hero's collar every now and then which made the hero's eyes widen uncontrollably.

At first they could feel the villain's lips against their throat, then their teeth. The hero braced themselves for the upcoming pain, for those long fangs to dig through skin and reach tissue, but it never came.

The villain merely sucked on the hero's skin. It felt quite...pleasurable?

Their heart was beating hard enough to hurt.

They were probably contravening several regulations by being this close to the villain alone. Additionally, the villain was a wanted vampire that liked to leave gruesome crime scenes. They were certainly not in the best position.

"...are you giving me hickeys?" the hero asked eventually. The villain's movements were less drowsy now.

"Is that a problem?"

"Oh, well...uhm..."

"Sensing blood clears my mind, I don't need to drink it to recover. The closer I am to it, the better." The villain took in a deep breath and leaned back in the hero's arms. "It's pretty adorable that you've come to my rescue, though. And that you, y'know, were willing to sacrifice yourself so heroically."

"Pff." The hero rolled their eyes, but they didn't really dare to look at their nemesis. How on earth were they supposed to explain those hickeys to their colleagues? It wasn't like the villain had held back on purpose. "Sacrifice? You're funny..."

Besides, it wasn't like it had felt like torture - it was certainly not looking like the hero had suffered - but the hero wasn't...they didn't...they hadn't enjoyed that, right? Considering that the hero had always prioritized their work, they had never given anyone a chance. Not really.

They had had kissed someone before, but that was such a long time ago that the hero wasn't even sure if that still counted. And even then, they had never really let anyone get close enough to give them hickeys.

"Ask your questions."

"Huh?"

"You had questions for me?" The villain's hand was on their forearm. Why were the hero's eyes glued to that?

"Sorry, I...I think I forgot."

"Hm." The villain looked them up and down. "You're certainly entertaining today."

"Eh." Nothing. The hero couldn't come up with anything. They were too confused to be embarrassed. Why was their head not working?

"Well, I can give you my number in case you remember. It's a burner phone, though. So, you can try locating me but I doubt it will work."

"Oh...yes. That. Yeah. Sure. That's actually very nice." They stared at the ground. What? Had the villain cursed them somehow? Why couldn't the hero focus?

"Good. I will contact you once you're home," the villain said. "Also, you can go to bat for me more often. Hah, get it? Bat?"

"Very funny."

"Damn. Tough crowd." The villain winked. "Anyway, see ya."

And with that, they disappeared into thin air, leaving the hero to sit there, in the alleyway staring at the ground for at least 20 more minutes, before going home.

[colleendoran]

This Explains a Lot

Hey folks, I don’t want to drama queen all over you. I know you all have big problems. But there’s been a recall of medication I take to manage Hashimoto’s Disease.

Hasimoto’s Disease affects something like 1% of the population (depending on who you ask). It’s an autoimmune disorder that causes the immune system to attack your thyroid gland.

The thyroid is sort of like your body’s throttle. If it doesn’t work properly, a lot of other things won’t work properly.

Symptoms include (from the Mayo Clinic Website):

Fatigue and sluggishness

Increased sensitivity to cold

Increased sleepiness

Dry skin

Constipation

Muscle weakness

Muscle aches, tenderness and stiffness

Joint pain and stiffness

Irregular or excessive menstrual bleeding

Depression

Problems with memory or concentration

Swelling of the thyroid (goiter)

A puffy face

Brittle nails

Hair loss

Enlargement of the tongue

For my part, the big issues are the fatigue, aches and pains (my hands are sometimes so stiff I cannot move my fingers, and right now my back is killing me,) depression, and memory problems. As in, I will be sitting there working on a drawing and between the time I look at my reference and the time I look at my drawing I can’t remember what I just saw in my reference.

That’s not good.

Also not on the above list: edema, anxiety, high cholesterol, poor heart function, an enlarged heart and irregular heartbeats. I had to have a CAT scan in December, and my anxiety has been swinging back and forth into the red zone for months.

When well managed, I don’t notice it much, but when not well-managed, my life grinds to a halt.

Since cancer treatment, I’ve felt the usual fallout from all that cancer entails. But I honestly thought I should have been feeling much better by now.

But I’m not. I’ve been up and down, but mostly down.

Finding out I’ve been improperly medicated for 7 months certainly explains a lot. A friend of mine who got the defective medication notice from her doctor thought she felt poorly due to long Covid. Another was sinking for months, unable to understand why.

Well, at least we know why.

This doesn’t affect everyone on the medication, just those with certain lot numbers from certain manufacturers. And if you are highly sensitive to hormone fluctuations, even a small variation will knock you right on your keister.

Several people I know heard from their health care providers. Others heard nothing until they asked.

It’s not like I don’t have a lot of stress right now, and figured my anxiety, poor mood, and weight gain originated from dealing with what I’m dealing with.

Well, at least some of it is because my medication hasn’t been hitting the sweet spot.

Bad luck, but it is what it is.

It’s going to take about 6 weeks before I start to feel better, but at least I am working it.

Best Wishes.

[yandere-sins]

Hi! I just currently discovered your works and I love it! Can you do a story where a serial killer (any fictional character you want, as long as it's not real people) who has gotten married to the y/n's mom but he's so obsessed with his new step-daughter the first time they met. The ending's up to you.

Hey! Thank you so much for reading my stories and requesting ♥ Took me some time to think of something, and I won't do a specific character, but I hope you enjoy it regardless!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

A long time ago, he chose to go down this path.

The decision had to be made; any waver in his resolve would have resulted in him getting caught and locked up for life. Sometimes, it was nice to be with the humans that would end up dead; sometimes, it was merely business. There were some pleasures to take from these gullible idiots. Money, sex, opportunities.

Businesswomen, housewives, lonely singles, and, if he had to, men just as much. They only sought the warmth of a lover, someone who truly understood them. And why would he not accept their gratitude and gifts for so little work as rubbing their back and telling them how special they were? It made them feel better most of the time and him richer, as their gratitude almost always ended in gifts.

And in their contentment, they didn't see the knife that was about to sink into their back as soon as they weren't useful to him anymore.

As soon as their money ran out, the gifts died down, and they started to become suspicious of him; he'd make sure to skip town after burying his latest lover in a ditch. He never met their friends, never saw what the life of his victims was, and especially: he didn't love them.

Oftentimes, he wondered, late at night, after yet another kill, what it was like to be loved and to love. His victims always looked so happy and content, hanging off his arm and whispering the magic words to him at night. What he did wasn't right, but why did it matter when he never got caught? As long as he could live in the lap of luxury that he could never achieve through honest work, he didn't really need much else.

But he was getting old.

Too old to sugar-baby his way through life, at least, too much on par in terms of age now with his victims. It physically hurt him to have to be extra careful in the future when killing random strangers. It would never give him the satisfaction or the looks of betrayal that left him all hot and bothered. But now was the last time he could find someone willing to finance his life, and giving up his prolific murder spree was better than spending the rest of his damnation in a dirty, old motel room with nothing to do.

Thus, his way of life ended. A serial killer turned houseman and loverboy to a very successful CEO and mother. Thanks to his charms, the wedding went through much faster than expected, and soon enough, with a credit card linked to her bank account and well-situated in the luxury home of his now-wife, everything could have stayed like this for a long, long time.

Until you showed up.

You were a blessing and a curse in the form of an adult stepchild. It was weird meeting the family of his victim for the first time. But the moment he laid eyes on you, his mouth began to water, pupils blown wide to spy every inch of deliciousness that you swept through the front door to his home. And despite spikes of murderous desires making his body shake uncontrollably, even more prevalent was the twisting and churning of his heart as it beat viciously against his ribs, blood rushing through his whole body and especially between his legs.

All evening long, he couldn't stop smiling at you. He sat across from you like a silly little teenage boy, nodding and listening to everything you told your mom, words dripping off your lips like honey that he wished to lick up. However, he merely did the next best thing, offering to take care of the dishes so he could lick your plate clean and steal your cutlery to enjoy later. He sat with you long into the night on the couch as you told him about yourself; you two had never met before since the wedding was such a rushed affair, and you were the trust fund child sent to an international college for your studies. There was so much to catch up on and get acquainted with.

If only he had met you sooner.

The time together was short, so he suggested all kinds of family vacations, telling his wife it was totally okay if she couldn't make it, and he'd spend time with you and bond. All was in his favor, and every second spent with you was the happiest of his life. For years, he thought that only riches and luxuries could satisfy him—but not anymore.

He had to have you.

No matter what he had to do, fate had already been decided. There was simply no way to not be with you. Slipping into your bed at night and touching you as much as possible just wasn't enough. Stealing your underwear and imagining you on your knees while he used the fabric on himself didn't quell his urges completely. Not even when he imagined you while pleasing his wife was enough, and neither was smelling you every day and pressing up to you innocently in the kitchen or hanging out with you. You going back to another country to continue your studies? Impossible. It would have killed him.

And then, the painfully put aside urges arose. The ones that screamed for blood and gore, torture, and the satisfaction of witnessing someone's last breath. He had already established himself in your life, and you liked him enough that were you to lose someone dear to you... would you run to him?

The question was just a hypothesis, but one that had him rock hard and twitching as he stared at the ceiling at night, feeling his wife—your mother—in his arm, sighing contently. What was her testament like? Would there be enough to live happily ever after with you? Would you accept your stepdad as more than just a superficial family member? Would you let him hold you? Kiss you? Lick you? Make you scream and sob?

Would you allow him to drag you into hell with him, even though he'd make it seem like heaven?

It had always been his way of doing things. Pretend to be someone perfect, pleasant, and loveable, when really, he was this cruel, pathetic monster. But a long time, he chose to go down this path of embracing the beast, and sitting up in his bed, he remembered still holding onto the table knife you used on the first day you returned home. It would be awful, downright gruesome, to be killed by her own daughter's knife, wouldn't it? Your mom would feel so betrayed by being stabbed in the middle of the night; it would be heart-wrenching and devastating.

Absolutely exhilarating.

Why change something that had always worked for him?

By tomorrow morning, you would be his.

[alkelkha]

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓. chapter four

relationship — jinx/powder x fem!blk coded reader

contents&warnings! : wc: 4.0k | post season 2 | lower-case indented | angst | heart to heart | just kiss already 🗣️ | non-sexual intimacy | fluff | mentions of them sharing the same bed | mentions of isha | these losers can't stay serious | yes reader has plot and yes i'm going through with it | not beta read | yes i am making this up along i go | author's note: i'm finally back after a month... don't come after me though! i'm literally in the middle of moving to a whole different state (not my choice).

❛❛ APOLOGIZE WITH FIREWORKS ❜❜

a careless toss of an envelope with this week’s paycheck slid off the desk. your eyes followed the movement. “you’re slacking, [name].” 

you’ve been slacking for the past two weeks. that’s how long it’s been since you and blue fought. you thought that she would come around and the two of you would hang out again like nothing happened, but of course, it didn’t. you were given straight radio silence, you even tried visiting her at her workshop and home. nothing.

she was your best friend and you hurt her to the point she’s shut herself in. was she even in there? was she ignoring you? did she run off? did she hate you now? did you just ruin everything? you couldn’t tell, it was like she locked herself in. this was killing you. 

every since she left it was like all the good things she brought with her did too. the endless laughter between the two of you, the satuation of the world. because of her you finally felt safe, your loan sharks finally stopped bothering you.

sometimes you think you see her (which you don’t). anything blue made you think of her, clouds too. you can’t bring yourself to eat the blue raspberry candy. 

the truth was that she was your good luck charm.

“do you want to lose this job?” big don’s voice rang in the office, snapping you back to reality. lose this job? this was the only job that could help pay off your debt that didn’t involve selling yourself, beating others half to death, and stealing. 

“i’ve been kind to you. i gave you this pussy job so you could pay me back with my own money.” he leans forward resting his clasped-together hands on the desk.

“but i see something,” the tall man raises from his seat. your breath got caught up in your throat and your heart quickened its pace. “…someone has made you sloppy. has taken your attention off of what is really important.” you knew what he meant and you couldn’t deny it. 

you have gotten sloppy with your work, clocking out a little bit early, and coming to work late more often— that was you when you and jinx started hanging out, but since jinx and you have gotten into that fight all of it got worse. “that new girl…” your eyes shot from the ground and straight to big don. the way he referred to her made your stomach turn. was he going to send his goons after her too.

“don’t—“ without thinking you stepped forward, you were about to walk up and slap him. good thing your mind caught up with you. yay, no bullet between your eyes!

“don’t what?” big don shot back at you, he stopped pacing and walked over to you. “run her out of flosnum? tie up the new girl in town? have some of my men give her a good beating? or maybe i’ll make you do that…” gulping at his implication you step back. you knew big don was sick, but surely not that sick?

right?

towering over you, two heads taller his dull dark eyes look down at you, his eyes make you feel so insignificant. you were nothing but a mere worker bee, “[insert sibling] may have escaped off to bilgewater. ixtal? ionia? who gives a fuck anymore. what matters is that one of you is here. one thing stands. your father’s debt.”

“get your act together or you’re on your own.” he then grips your hair, and with a harsh tug he pulls you closer to him. he smelt of cigarettes and mangos, “once you’re on your own i won’t care how and what you do to pay off the debt. sell your body for all i care.”

you left his office and went back to working at the bar. overtime. work for two weeks with no pay as punishment, which was mercy considering you've been waterboarded other times.

though you were starting to consider being waterboarded instead.

how long has it been? she can’t remember, there was no point in counting hours or days when she was in this state. 

her chipped painted nails scratched off her cuticles to the point they bleed. curled up in the middle of her room stuck in an unforgiving daze. a haze that consumed her mind and filled it with thoughts that pricked her brain as if they were needles.

she fucked up. again. and she doesn’t have the guts to try and fix it.

not that there was anything to fix, you were done with her. you hated her. you saw her as insane as soon as you saw her.

she was an idiot to show you that side of her. what made her think that this would be any different? danger or not, flosnum was not immune to her effect. 

her blue chopped hair now grown inches past her ears but not long enough to touch her shoulders, her bangs terribly long, and the purple dye worn out. the bonsai tree on her bedroom windowsill half dead. the irrigating bear under her bed where its voice is too far to catch. 

jinx. that’s who she was. she couldn’t fight it anymore. running from it has been deemed impossible even when she’s a sea away from piltover and zaun. 

metal and wood clanking against each other.

she could hear it, the small huffs, exhales, and sniffles. the light-weight pitter-patter danced around her.

isha.

jinx was greatness to isha. a haven. a symbol. someone worth protecting.

jinx could feel the vibrations from the floor bouncing back to her curled-up position. she had her knees to her chest and hid her face.

she couldn’t bring herself to look up. she was scared that if she looked up she would see her. if she did, she wouldn’t know what to do.

all those times she told off sevika that jinx was dead, isha was the one that kept the image of her alive. not a symbol of destruction— no longer just a loose cannon but a hero. 

powder was the one that died.

she thought that maybe if she could start over, it would all be from the beginning.

no jinx. just powder. the more she stayed on this tropical island she was reminded that she couldn’t be powder. 

to be honest, jinx liked isha’s version of jinx. the version that isha would play games, watch battles fight each other, fall asleep to her overly-dramatized exploits, graffiti on walls, and stargaze with. 

the careless dancing footsteps morphed into cautious ones and the steps were slightly heavier. 

step. step. step.

these footsteps didn’t seem as if they were sneaking up on prey, still, jinx refused to raise her head up from her knees, her eyes stayed shut. 

just ignore it.

she repeated those words, a mantra that got her through a handful of her episodes. unexpectantly, light fingertips grazed her shoulder, unsure if they could go further in the contact. 

hallucinations couldn’t touch her.

a low gentle voice “blue.” jinx felt all of her defenses fall. how pathetic that’s all it took.

you crouched down behind her. jinx’s back faced you, wearing only a pink tank top and wool shorts that showed off the blue clouds on the right side of her body.

the only reason you were able to get in was because you found a foolishly placed spare key sticking out from under a ceramic pot with a wilting flower.

you were tired of waiting.

“i’m sorry.” trying to shove down the heat rising to your face, you swallow. there was nothing more you hated than apologizing, which was ironic since you did it quite often. normally when you did it, it was out of fear or common courtesy.

sincerely apologizing on the other hand? the thought of you being the person in the wrong felt like a punch in the gut, but none of that mattered. 

the only thing you wanted right now was your friend back. “i’m so sorry. that day at the beach when i sighed it wasn’t towards you.” jinx was still. “that day was perfect and i ruined it. i made you feel that i didn’t enjoy it. i did! it’s just—“ you sucked in a breath before explaining.

“…i have a hard time living in the moment, i’m always thinking about my next shift. that i have my shift in this many hours, i’ll have to deal with rowdy customers in less than a day after, i have to pay off my debt.” she didn’t answer, it felt like you were talking to a brick wall.

“ever since you came into my life you have been what i look forward to.”

silence is all she gives you. not even a hum of acknowledgment. “blu—“ you couldn’t finish the nickname because of how shocked you were to see jinx finally turn her head towards you. you can only see her side profile due to the position the two of you are holding. 

the saturation of her vibrant red-violet eyes is now exhausted and dull. an alarm rang in your head. scrabbling from your knees you made it to in front of her to get the whole view of her. you needed to see all of her.

jinx’s closed-off position, her days-old makeup, unkempt hair, and lightweight. her head a bit more raised so she could look at you better as your eyes roamed around her body. 

her eyes.

her eyes were so doe and dull, the manic that she usually held in her eyes was nowhere to be found. this was the most vulnerable you’ve seen her yet there were still so many walls. 

she looked horrible.

you did this.

“[name]…”

her hoarse voice made your heart ache. gulping, pushing down the guilt. you slowly and carefully take her hands into yours. “let’s get you cleaned up, blue.”

the first thing you did was take off her makeup with a wet piece of cloth. you had no idea how long she had been like this, it looks like she had that same face of makeup for almost a week, probably more.

her cheeks were tear-stricken with dried-up mascara and eyeliner. her purple eyeshadow was worn out along with her smudged lipstick.

you washed her hair in the sink. she sat on a chair, her head leaned back as the faucet ran through her blue locks. your hands gently messaging her scalp, and then detangled everything with a brush.

the two of you didn’t talk at all. sitting on a stool your wrist moved in circular motions, washing her back.

she felt herself slowly come back to reality. the way you were being so careful with her as if she was worth being gentle to. were you doing all of this just to torment her?

surely you weren’t faking the affection in your touch? you wouldn’t do such a thing. you couldn’t. 

she felt her eyes burning up.

she felt the rough texture of the cloth exfoliating her skin, your hand carefully leading its way to her tattooed arm. your movements slow not wanting to have her pull away from your touch.

jinx lets out a ragged breath, louder than the scrubbing of her skin and water droplets. that was the first breath she let out since you came to her. your movement paused and went even slower. gentler. 

that’s when she bursts into tears. 

you froze up a bit hearing her choked sobs, “oh hon…” jinx’s shoulder shook as she leaned forward, away from you. her sobs only got louder and louder. saliva collected in her mouth and her face turned a pinkish hue.

putting aside the cloth you took her shoulders and pulled her back towards you, you wrapped your arms around her neck, and your head was right next to hers. “tell me what’s wrong.” you whispered in her ear, you didn’t bother hiding the tremor in your voice.

“please, talk to me. did i make you upset again?” you plead for her to talk to you.

“i’m sorry.” her sobs so broken that her voice cracks as she apologizes. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” she just shakes her head repeating herself over and over again.

“shh.” you say rocking the both of you side to side in an attempt to lull her sobs. “it’s okay, there’s nothing you need to apologize for. we both messed up.”

“i’m such a child, i ruined everything!” she hiccups, her sobs only worsened. she leans on you like a child seeking comfort.

“stop that. you ruined nothing, okay?” you tried to keep your voice firm.

“i made something out of nothing again and i pushed you away and now you hate me—”

you cut her off, “if i hated you would i be here right now?” 

“you will once i mess up again.”

sighing, you pinch her cheek. “it was a silly little fight, we got through it.”

jinx winces at the pinch but she doesn’t pull away instead, her cries lessen and her face scrunches up a bit. “what if we get into another fight?”

not letting go of her cheek you kept speaking, “we’ll get through it. even when i get irritated or mad with you, i’ll always come back to you.” she turns her head and you pull away to give her some space to move.

her eyes were bloodshot, her pink irises sparkled as if she was begging you to confirm your words. “you’re my best friend, things like this will always pass over, i promise.” 

jinx’s sobs were no more and what was left was her small sniffles as you got back to bathing her.

getting back together with you made jinx realize some things.

number one: you would never ever ever ever leave her no matter what! 

this meant she could do anything without you leaving her. like sleeping together in the same bed and kicking you off.

number two: the two of you were practically made for each other!

she has been clinging onto every second of the day and you welcomed it with open arms. (well other than the times she’s stalking you, but you don’t need to know that!) has she gotten more childish with you? maybe.

it was your day off so per usual you were with her, instead of rotting together at her workshop the two of you went out for ice cream and window shopped. the two of you walked side by side in the blazing heat, jinx’s arm hooked on yours. 

usually, she would complain and complain in this weather and end up with sunburns which you had to tend to. these days she wouldn’t, it was like she grew up with flosnum. she wore a mismatched bikini top and stockings, low rise shorts black and pink shorts, and black boots with pink laces. “new style?” you raised a brow.

“just matching the weather.” jinx licks the dripping cotton candy ice cream from her cone. the undercity wasn’t hot like flosnum. it was humid at best but mostly cold. hell, she felt the warmth of sun on her skin more on her first week here than she did her whole life in zaun.

going on your route you spot a jewelry vendor, something catches your eye. mindlessly pulling away from her to go check it out jinx furrows her brows, she follows behind you. your eyes were on the turtle trinket. the jewels on it sparkled like no other.

stupid.

jinx’s finger hooks on the loop of your bottoms and pulls you closer to her side. she bends over a bit to get a better look at the stupid trinket. “oh come on, toots, you don’t need this. you already have that ugly turtle pendant.”

you smack the back of her head and she whines. “my necklace is not stupid!” you defend the bronze hanging around your neck. “besides, i wasn’t going to buy it….” your eyes trail to the price tag, the sight causes you to frown. “way too expensive anyway.” you turn on your heels and walk away from the vendor. 

she watches you walk away and back to the turtle trinket. it was ugly. tacky too. you wouldn’t look good in it.

jinx shrugs and catches up with you, she loops her arm with yours licking her ice cream once again with a stolen trinket in her pocket.

number three: she missed chaos.

because of that, she’s going to blow up at tonight’s festival. she’s been working on it the day after you bathed her, tucked her into bed, and fell asleep in bed with her. which was six days ago.

don’t worry. don’t worry. she’s not going to kill anyone. she was done with that, instead, these bombs were going to make a teenie tiny little mess.

today’s festival was in honor of the day flosnum successfully defended itself against bilgewater, many lives were lost due to the battle. which was an incredible feat now that jinx thinks about it.

anyways, that doesn’t matter! what matters is that she wants to ruin it. 

it’s the most jinx thing she can do.

somehow the paradise was infinitely more vibrant under the dark sky. maybe it was the twinkling stars, the glowing plants, and the fairy lights. everyone gathered in the streets, adorned in tropical garlands. the two of you held a stick, the tip burned bright, sparkling. 

normally, jinx’s mind would be on how gorgeous your smile was, but today she was too excited to even think properly. she was too happy to fuck the celebration up. she had already planted the bombs. 

the air was filled with a sweet and fruity scent of exotic flowers. your sweet laughter echoed in her mind finally snapping her out of it. “what’s got you so happy, blue?” she asked, pointing out her dumb smile.

jinx dropped the stick, “follow me.” she grabbed onto you forcing you to do the same and follow behind her. 

there was so much of everything. people, noise, lights, smells. you canvas through the streets and she takes you onto her workshop’s rooftop. though her workshop was placed in a shady alleyway, the view she had up top was breathtaking.

her rooftop was decorated with random cut-up fabrics, unfinished projects (aka junk but she won’t let you call it that), and colorful lanterns. the stars painted the night sky, the jinx sat on the rooftop ledge. being the more cautious one you tried not to, but she forced you anyway.

“we’re best friends, right?” jinx slowly turns her head to you, your eyes are on the ground, watching the people below. 

“i sure hope so,” you snort. realizing that it wasn’t the right time to joke you backtracked, “of course we are, the best of friends.” you didn’t look back but that didn’t make your response any less sincere.

her red-violet eyes trace your side profile. you were pretty like this, with the colors of the lanterns illuminating off of you. the color blue graced your brown skin and the coils of your hair. it was almost as beautiful as when the sunlight would kiss your skin.

jinx wasn’t sure when it started. “it” being when she became so attentive to you. maybe, it was the day she first saw you behind the counter of her now workshop. maybe, it was the day she crashlanded and you saved her.

the topic of the day she crashlanded was never brought up between the two of you. jinx wasn’t sure if you were aware that she knew.

jinx should’ve forgotten about you that day, her vision was hazy and smoke filled her lungs— her mind shouldn’t even have registered the details of you. but she did.

the key detail she remembered?

it was that stupid bronze necklace.

the ugly piece of metal that is still hanging around your neck. it looks as if it was handmade. well maintained yet specks of chipped-off green paint on the turtle’s shell.

“good,” jinx smiles at your answer. her hand reaches into her pocket and your eyes follow, her fist closed around not letting you know what it is just yet. “because i wanted to give you something.”

your eyes finally lock with hers. “i’m not good with words. i’m not good with my actions either.” her vibrant eyes shift away from yours, but she forces herself to keep eye contact with yours. “i fuck shit up. always. as soon as something good comes in my life it’s taken away, by my hand or something else.”

jinx couldn't find the right words, she didn't even know where she was going with this. “i ruin everything,” she laughed bitterly, her eyes searched yours to see if you were annoyed by your senseless rambling, but you didn’t. you listened, waiting for the next words to come out of her mouth.

“i’m jinxed. it’s in my name.”

jinx looks down at her hand, her fist is holding onto the mystery item tightly. then her fingers hesitantly open up her fist, revealing what’s in the palm of your hand. you look down. this feeling in your stomach, it flips and flutters. “blue, is this—“

“jinx,” she didn’t let you get a sentence in. “that’s my name.”

jinx...so that was blue's name. oddly enough, it fit her perfectly. she didn't look like a sasha, cassie, hannah, or kate. for someone as cool as her she should have an equally cool name.

“that’s so cool!” your eyes twinkle, filled with excitement, completely ignorant to the significance of this moment.

when the words left your mouth jinx left hundreds of degrees hotter. a warmth blazed through her body. no one has ever had this type of reaction to her name.

“so, you’ve been cool you’re whole life, huh?” you scrunch up your face in mock jealousy. “cool hair. cool talents. cool personality. cool name. you’re just a package, aren’t you, jinx?”

why did she like her name coming from your lips so much?

trying to hide her flustered state she puts on a cocky front, “enough of how cool you think i am. are you going to take my gift or not?” she dangles the trinket in front of your face. “you stole it.” you blink at her unamused. still you took it from her hand. “says who? you think i can’t afford something like this?” she tilts her head, raising a brow. 

“then what’s this?” you point to the tag. 

she looks at it and grumbles. after pulling it off she then put on a faux innocent smile. “what’s what?” seeing how your unamused expression didn’t waver she sighed in defeat. “i just wanted to do something for you, you deserve tiny luxuries like this. maybe it could bring you some luck too. a lucky charm.”

her words managed to make you loosen up. your face softens. “thanks, hon, but i already have a lucky charm.”

jinx’s squints her eyes at you, “wait, you do?”

"i'm talking about you, jinx."

jinx, a lucky charm? how ironic. se had always been the cause of trouble, never the solution. when she did try to find one it only made everything worse. but here the two of you are. you hailed her as your lucky charm. a good omen.

she lets out a bark of laughter, she laughs with her full chest. all of this was too surreal it was making her head spin. 

POW POW POW

with distant bangs a cloud of red, then purple, then green, then blue. the town square exploded with a flurry of colorful dust. the dust danced in the sky and fell back down onto the cobbled ground as if it were snowfall.

oh right. jinx forgot about those.

the two of you whip your heads to the noise to see the mayhem going on. 

their faces being painted with the colorful dye. the locals dance and twirl along with the ongoing blasts of the bright vibrant powder into the air. children rushed trying to catch the falling powder, some even making angles on the ground.

your eyes snap wide with amazement at the view, “oh my gods!” no way in hell were you going to miss out on something like this. you carefully get off the rooftop ledge and pull jinx with you. 

“get your ass up, let’s join the fun!”

screams, panicked voices, and people trying to take cover, that’s what jinx expected. not the sound of flosnum residents’ laughter and cheers. her plans to cause chaos failed.

she really was a jinx.

TAGLIST: @millie2point0 @powderbomb-jinxed @velvetinkbym

[dollesung]

WASTELAND, BABY .ᐟ

PAIRING. sunghoon x fem reader. GENRE. fluff. REQUESTED? yes. WORD COUNT. 2.9k SYNOPSIS. you get cheated on by your piece-of-shit boyfriend and run to your best friend, sunghoon's rescue. after letting him pick up the pieces of your broken heart, the two of you get more than you bargained for. WARNINGS. cheating (by a third party character), use of profanities, brief mentions of sex (no actual nsfw), alcohol.

NOTE. got carried away a lil bit and ended up liking this more than i expected to, im a sucker for domestic shit. hope u like it!

Love was a fucking bitch.

You once thought love was a beautiful thing, all sunshines and rainbows with clear skies and no end in sight. A forever sort of thing, that nothing could take away or destroy for you.

But all good things come to an end.

If you could even call your relationship with your (now ex) boyfriend good, anyway.

But even if it wasn’t perfect, you still mourned the end of it. You’d been together long, almost three years, but what made the entire ordeal much more painful, was that you caught the fucker cheating on you in your very own apartment.

So much for love, right?

And now, here you were, stood in front of your best friend, Sunghoon’s apartment door, with nothing but your phone and wallet in hand.

You knock at the door, trying to contain your emotions as you wait for a response. You stormed out of your apartment so fast, you didn’t even bother to wait and listen to whatever explanation your ex, or the woman in his bed had to offer.

Everything was starting to get overwhelming, thankfully, the door finally swung open, revealing your best friend, clad in his pajamas, hair messy and eyes squinting against the light in the hallway.

“[name]?” He called out. “What are you doing here?”

MORE UNDER THE CUT.

Sunghoon hadn’t even done or said anything else, but it’s like a dam just burst inside you. You felt your emotions explode, and you started sobbing, running into Sunghoon’s arms as the boy confusingly, but without hesitation, took you in his embrace.

“What happened?” He asked, pulling you inside and closing the door, locking it shut.

“It’s Drew,” you muttered between sobs. “He cheated on me!”

Sunghoon frowned, tightening his embrace. “Oh, I’m so sorry, [name].”

“He was fucking another woman in our bed!” You exclaimed, hiding your face into your hands. “What kind of bullshit is that?!”

Sunghoon sighed, but said nothing else, and only led you to the couch. The two of you sat in silence, with nothing but your sobs echoing throughout the room.

Sunghoon had leant against the arm of the couch, allowing you to lay against his chest, still crying your eyes out as your best friend rubbed your arm in comfort.

Minutes pass, and your cries begin to die down. You still felt miserable, but the exhaustion was taking a toll on you. Sunghoon must’ve noticed.

“You need anything?” Sunghoon asked as you sat up to catch your breath. “Water? Food? Need me to come over there and beat the hell out of him?”

You chuckled at his joke, knowing Sunghoon, he could never hurt a fly, even if he tried. “He’ll kill you.”

“Not if I get to him first,” he jokes, and you smile a little.

“Sorry I barged in like this,” you apologized. “Just didn’t know where else to go.”

“Hey,” he called out, and you look at the genuine expression on his face. “You can always barge in here. Especially if something like this happens.”

You sighed. “I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t,” Sunghoon warns. “Don’t say that. You have nothing to feel stupid about. He should be the one feeling stupid.”

“Still, I should’ve known better, y’know? You guys have always told me how bad Drew was. Should’ve listened a long time ago.” You berated yourself.

“Beating yourself up about it won’t help,” Sunghoon says, crossing his arms.

“I know,” you replied. “Don’t know where to go from here.”

“Only way to go is up,” your best friend says.

In the end, you nod. “Can I stay here for a bit? If it’s okay with you?”

Sunghoon offers a reassuring smile. “Stay as long as you like.”

You end up taking Sunghoon on that offer, as you spend a few weeks living under the same roof. You had nowhere else to go, anyway, as you used to live with your ex, and your parents live states away, and you couldn’t move back in since your job required you to live nearby.

Thankfully, Sunghoon was more than happy to keep you around. Of course, you felt guilty about staying and wanted to pay him back in a way, so you ended up taking care of most of the housework.

When you weren’t preoccupied with work or stuck in the office, you busied yourself with chores. You knew Sunghoon was a neat freak, but since the boy worked a 9 to 5 job, you took it upon yourself to ensure that the house was in tip top shape whenever he got home.

You also tackled grocery-shopping, laundry, and even utilized your basic knowledge in plumbing by fixing the leaky pipe in his sink.

But the number one thing you always made sure, was that Sunghoon would never come home to a house with no dinner.

It was a trait you picked up from your mother, where she always made sure food was on the table whenever your father came home from work. You would’ve done this with your ex-boyfriend, too. If only he wasn’t freeloader.

It was already 5 minutes past 6 PM when you finished cooking dinner. The table was already set, and in a few minutes, Sunghoon would arrive. You already memorized his schedule; 5 PM he’d clock out of work, by 5:15, he’d be at the subway, and 45 minutes later, he’ll make it home.

Right on time, you hear the lock by the front door and in comes Sunghoon, carrying his book bag. He immediately notices the scent of dinner wafting through the entire apartment.

“[name], I’m home!” He calls out, shrugging his coat off and leaving his shoes by the door.

“Dinner’s ready!” You announced.

He walks in the dining room, pleased to see you setting tonight’s dinner on the table. “Another delicious meal, I see.”

You beam at the praise, glad that Sunghoon appreciated your efforts. Sunghoon excuses himself to go wash his hands first, and you sit in the chair and wait for him to come back.

The two of you eat dinner in remote silence. Words are shared here and there, but you let Sunghoon enjoy a little peace as you know he’s had a long day. He doesn’t let up on praising your work, however.

“This is delicious,” he says. “Is this beef?”

“Mhm,” you nod, swallowing a mouthful of food. “I swung by the farmer’s market yesterday and got a good price for it. Just thought you’d enjoy a good roast beef.”

“I do,” he hums. Then, he lets out a short chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” You ask.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon shakes his head first. “We just kinda.. sound like a married couple.”

The fork makes a loud clang! as you accidentally drop it against your ceramic plate. You nearly choke on a piece of beef as you try to cough it out. Sunghoon’s statement rendered you a little shocked, but you try to pass it as nothing.

“S-Sorry,” you apologize, composing yourself.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Sunghoon utters. “I made you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you defended. “Just.. shocked at what you said.”

Sunghoon clears his throat, and you swear you can make out just the tiniest hint of rosiness in his cheeks. “Well, I didn’t mean it in a negative way.”

“I know, I know,” you say. “It’s fine, just forget about it.”

A little disheartened, Sunghoon drops the subject and returns to his meal. The two of you go back to eating in silence, except this time, there’s a slight tension in the room.

A few minutes pass and you pick up conversation, “By the way, I’m going back to my apartment tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Sunghoon vocalizes. “Why?”

“Just gonna pick up the rest of my stuff,” you inform him.

“Will Drew be there?” He asks, worriedly.

“He might be,” you say. “But I’ll be fine. I won’t stay there long.”

“Maybe I should go with you,” Sunghoon states.

You shake your head. “You’ve got work, I’ll be fine.”

Perturbed by your icy tone, Sunghoon once again drops the subject. He’s worried about your safety, but more importantly, he’s worried about you not coming back, that you might end up with Drew again and leave him here.

Sunghoon finished his food, and prays a silent prayer that that won’t happen.

Sunghoon is in the middle of work when he receives your text.

[name] <3 omw to the apt. might be home late, get urself some dinner and don’t wait up!

If he’s being honest, he’s worried about what will happen when you come home. He overthinks if you might end up getting back together with Drew, which is his current biggest fear, not only because he knows how bad that man is for you, but because…

Well, Sunghoon has liked you for a while now.

Like a long, long while.

A good nine years, maybe? Since the two of you met in high school. But he could never act upon it or confess because he has been, and always was a shy man.

So, he settled for being your best friend, even if he had to watch as countless men continued to treat you wrong, and even if he was always the one wiping your tears at the end of every failed relationship.

It was better than not having you, anyway.

He goes home after his shift, and ends up forgetting about dinner. Before you started staying with him, Sunghoon always ate either cheap convenience store ramen or street food for dinner, as those were the easiest food to come by on his way home.

But ever since you started preparing dinners, he found himself looking forward to going home every night, wondering what food you had prepared.

More importantly, knowing you were home, waiting for him, made his heart so, so happy.

He knew it probably meant nothing to you, but to him, it meant everything. That’s why he had that slip up last night, because he genuinely felt like you two were a married couple.

But then again, good things come to an end, don’t they?

Sunghoon ends up waiting for you. It’s past midnight, he’s sat in his couch watching some late night show he doesn’t care about. He periodically takes a look at his phone to check if you’ve messaged or called. By 1:21 AM, he’s starting to think if you spent the nigh in your apartment. His heart sinks at the thought.

Thankfully, he hears the lock click and the front door swing open. You enter, with a bag on your shoulder and a cardboard box in your hands. Immediately, you spot him by the couch.

“I told you not to wait up,” you scold. “You have work in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, which was true. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing you weren’t home. “What happened? Did you talk to Drew?”

“Kind of,” you utter, placing the box on the floor by the couch, while taking off your shoes. You plop next to Sunghoon just as he shuts the TV off. “We fought.”

“About?” Part of him feels guilty that he’s relieved you guys fought and didn’t make up, but he pushes that feeling down.

“‘Bout us,” Sunghoon notices your speech is a little slurred, and there’s a slight stench of alcohol from your breath. “He complained about me leaving, ‘bout how I haven’t been responding to any of his messages.”

“And?” He pries. “What’d you say?”

“Told him to fuck off,” you laughed. “Then I went to a bar and drank my ass off.”

“You should’ve called me,” Sunghoon scolded. “I could’ve picked you up or booked you an uber.”

“It’s fine,” you say, leaning your head on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna bother you more, anyway.”

“You’re not a bother,” Sunghoon says. “Never.”

Then, filled with alcohol-induced bravery, you look up at Sunghoon and asked him a question. “Why’re you doin’ all this, anyway?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “‘Cause you’re my best friend and you need a place to live?”

“No, no, not that,” it was more than evident that you were drunk now. “I mean, you keeping up with my shit. I always end up pickin’ the wrong guys but you never blamed me! You never leave. Whyyyy?”

Unsure of what to say, Sunghoon gives himself a minute to respond. Then, he shrugs again. “I-I don’t know. I just do.”

You laugh due to drunken stupor, then, the liquid courage urges you to say something you’d have never said to Sunghoon sober:

“You like me, don’t ‘ya?”

Sunghoon freezes, eyes widening at your statement. “What?”

“I knew it!” You exclaim, smiling. “I always knew ‘ya liked me but I didn’t wan’ assume—!”

“[name], you’re drunk—“

You cut him off. “I may be drunk buuut I know what ‘m sayin’!”

Trying to prove a point, you stood up, but the sudden movement caused you to be dizzy, and you nearly fall over, if it weren’t for Sunghoon who caught you.

“Let’s just go to bed and talk tomorrow, hm?” He suggests, and you find yourself agreeing.

He leads you towards his bedroom, where you usually sleep. He tries his best to rid you of your extra layers, leather jacket, accessories, socks.

He’s halfway through sliding off your other sock when you speak up, still in a drunken haze.

“I like ‘ya too, y’know?” You say, and Sunghoon swears his heart just started beating a thousand times per minute.

“You do?” He implores himself to ask.

You nod. “Mhm. I-I never thought you’d like me back, soooo, I dated other guys buuuut they weren’t you.”

Sunghoon flushes at your statement. Perhaps some of what you were saying were true, considering that alcohol always made you honest.

“Let’s talk tomorrow, m’kay?” You nod at Sunghoon, and in a second you were already half asleep. Sunghoon grabs the blanket and tucks you in, leaving the room to crash in the couch.

If you remember any of this in the morning, he’ll worry about it then.

Your head was pounding.

You definitely regretted drinking all those shots at the bar last night, but they seemed like a good idea at the time.

Glancing at your clothes, you were still dressed in what you went out with yesterday. Fortunately you didn’t wake up in some stranger’s apartment, and found yourself in Sunghoon’s be—

Sunghoon.

Memories of last night came back flooding your head, and you cringe at them all. You never meant to interrogate Sunghoon, let alone confess to him, but alcohol came with poor judgement.

After a few minutes of hitting yourself in the head, you managed to get out of bed and into the living room. A quick look at the clock states that it was already 2:41 in the afternoon, and that you should probably make yourself a late lunch.

“You hungry?” The voice makes you jump, and you turn around to see Sunghoon sat on the couch.

“You scared me,” you said. “Don’t you have work?”

“Took a day off,” he informs you. “Needed to make sure you’ll be okay.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you frowned.

“Can we talk? Before you eat?” Sunghoon says, and even though you dreaded it, you nodded anyway.

You sat beside your best friend as you thought of every possible scenario that could play out next. You had half the mind to think if he was gonna kick you out, but you knew Sunghoon was better than that.

Thankfully, he saved you from your own paranoia.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you responded, looking apologetic. “Look, I’m sor—“

“You’re right,” Sunghoon cut you off before you could finish.

“Huh?” You ask. “About what?”

“About me, liking you,” he responded. “I do, like you, that is.”

“Oh,” you felt a wave of emotions crash over you at once. Relief, joy, contentment, you’re not sure which ones.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asked you this time, and it took you a moment to respond.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I-I mean it. I liked you for a while but I didn’t wanna say anything ‘cause I thought you didn’t like me. But then we started living together and I started to notice things.”

Sunghoon hummed. “Okay.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “‘Okay’?”

Sunghoon shrugged. “What did you want me to say?”

“I dunno,” you admitted. Granted you had no idea what to do next, but this whole thing was just so odd. “What happens next? I mean what are we now? Are we still best friends?”

Sunghoon merely offered a reassuring smile. “[name], you just got out of a relationship, a bad one, yes, but you still need to heal from that. I like you, but I don’t want you to just end up settling with me because I’m all you have.”

“I woul never just ‘settle’ for you,” you replied, feeling a little flustered. “I just feel.. confused, I guess?”

“Yes, I do like you, yes, you’re the one I want to be in a relationship with, and yes— we are still best friends.” Sunghoon reassures.

You smiled, feeling relief take over your entire body. “Good.”

“And when you are ready, I’ll be here, I can wait a bit more,” he states. “As long as you keep making dinner.”

You rolled your eyes, and playfully hit the boy in his chest.

Love might be a fucking bitch at times.

But occasionally, it gets some things right.

NOTE. i like and hate this one at the same time, RAAAAH. i finished this at 5 in the morning and i have a 10 am class later. fuck it, worth it.

© dollesung 2025

[gothamite-rambler]

Jason Todd later finding out that not only did his brother beat Joker to a pulp he did kill him... until Bruce stepped in.

Dick: Jason… How are you feeling, bud?

Jason had his head down, pinching the bridge of his nose, before reacting explosively.

Jason: Are you kidding?! That's unfair! He wasn't even the-

Jason paused closing his eyes and pulling a dagger out of his pocket, gripping it tightly. Dick's eyes widened in shock, but Jason was able to relax as he took a deep breath.

Jason: I need to calm down. Everything's fine... I'm an adult.

Dick (nervous): You've got a big dagger in your hand right now.

Jason (calm as he gripped the hilt of the knife): This? It's my support dagger. I’m not going to stab anyone. I'm just furious at the jackass who thinks everyone in this family should follow that rule!

Dick: Come on… I felt guilty afterward.

Jason: Oh God, you and your big heart. Let me handle him next time.

Bruce: No! No you won't!

Jason: Why the hell did you revive him?!

Bruce: Murder is wrong!

Jason: For you! For you! And Cass, but she's my favorite. At least she killed someone and felt regret.

Bruce: I… Okay, sure. What do I know? My parents just died—

Jason: We’ve all lost our parents!

Damian: Mine didn't… Wait.

Bruce: Don't worry about it. I’m… kind of sorry. I can make it up to you.

Jason: No, you can’t!

Bruce rolled his eyes, then pulled out his phone and sent Jason some money. Jason checked his phone and huffed in annoyance.

Jason: Well, this kind of fixes it.

[stephbrwnsz]

"His special guard"

MINORS DNI!

In-ho / Player 001 / Frontman

TW: Dark, age gap, guilt tripping(?)

You were done for the day. No more games for today. You went to your little room, bed and closet, all you had in there. You were ready to end this day and get some sleep, killing all those people is more exhausting than many others may think. 

You removed your mask, when your door suddenly opened, not knowing others could enter your room that easily, you looked behind you, to see another guard there. Your heart skipped a beat, you knew the other guards weren't necessarily a fan of you, knowing that the boss gave you the job, you weren't recruited like the others.

 You've known In-ho for years now, you met him, when you dated his younger brother 8 years ago. 1 year ago he found out about your debt, so this year he asked you to become one of his guards, you didn't know what he meant, especially weird about the question was, you two haven't seen or heard from each other for 6 years, after you broke up with Jun-ho. Not thinking anything bad, you decided to say yes to his offer, little did you know you'd end up here.

The other guard looked at you, which made you raise a brow, wanting to know why they are here, suddenly their voice filled the room, how the boss wanted to see you. You didn't understand, since In-ho was undercover.

"Isn't he pretending to be a player? I can't just go up to him." You questioned the other guard, who shrugged and told you those were orders. You rolled your eyes and put your mask back on.

As soon as the other guard left, you made your way to the players room, walking along those colourful hallways, when you see this, with no context, everything seems so happy and peaceful, you wouldn't expect this to be a place, where psycho games were played. It disgusted you, but it was too late to back out now. You were already in too deep. Killed people. You had strangers blood on your hands, the blood of innocent people, who only wanted to get out of debt, just like you. You just were lucky enough, to be the killer, not the killed.

You arrived in the players room, the door squeaking making everyone face you. You didn't know what to do, you looked at In-ho, wondering what to say, since you couldn't drop his cover. You called his number out, everyone looking at him in shock, as if he was about to get killed. He walked to you, his usual dominant and powerful walk, being replaced by a scared one. You never expected him to be such a good actor. You walked out with him, where he told you to remove your mask, so you did. Suddenly you felt little again, as if you never had a power position.

In-ho stood tall and elegant in front of you, even with a tracksuit he screamed power and dominance, you gulped at the sight. Did you do anything wrong? All you did was make sure, the people who lost, got eliminated. He eyed you and suddenly you noticed something in his eyes that wasn't there before.

A fire. Lust. Darkness. Unusual darkness. He stepped closer to you, with every inch he took forward, you started feeling tinier, like a little mouse or bird. You swallowed again and he chuckled, noticing how nervous he was making you. He seemed so different. Your view on him keeps changing, it already switched drastically, when you saw what he did, that already didn't feel like the In-ho you knew, but this? This was even more unusual.

"How about you accompany me to my office right now? I need a little.. distraction from all those players." He spoke, his words dark, sending a shiver down your body, a distraction? You just nodded in response and walked up the stairs with him, your mask on your face again. 

When you two arrived in his office, he made his way to the leather couch, legs spread as he sat down. Like a little puppy, you stood at a table he had in here, he patted the seat next to him and you put your mask off again, placing it on the little table next to you, before making your way to him and sitting down next to him.

"You know how depressing it gets in there, not being able to have any free time, not having you close, but you roaming my every thought? Do you know how terrible it feels? Having all those lustful thoughts about your pretty face, but not being able to do anything about it?" He said while leaning over and filling two glasses with whiskey, handing you one. "Sweetheart, don't sit so uptight, acting like I'm some stranger." He chuckled and you felt your stomach clench. He never talked to you like this before. He was flirting with you, and you were unsure how to feel about this.

"I'm sorry?" You questioned, still taken aback from his words, about his lustful thoughts about you, to which he only replied with a dark chuckle, making your hairs stand up, you always found In-ho attractive, you could admit that, but you never thought about him in this way. It was new, to see him want you, to have him say that openly. He keeps surprising you.

"Is this really that much of a surprise to you? You're an attractive young woman." He said, as he pulled you onto his lap, the feeling of being so close to him, smelling him and feeling his touch, made you incredibly nervous. Your stomach clenched and you also felt the sensation in your pussy. His hand gripped your thigh, while the other zipped open your suit up to your chest, so that his lips could place little, wet kisses on your throat and neck, so he can suck a mark into your soft and delicate skin every now and then. You let out a little moan, to which he smiled against your neck, squeezing your thigh and stroking it.

"You can say no anytime, sweetheart, but remember, I gave you this opportunity, don't you think I deserve something back?" He mumbled against your neck, already too deep in your arousal, you nodded, even if this gave you a weird feeling. You didn't owe him this, you gave him this, because you also wanted this. He unzipped your suit now completely and got you out of your clothing, making you sit there in black boxers and a sports bra now.

His hand groped your thigh hardly, and his lips moved up to your jaw now, kissing over your jaw and face, until he reached your lips. He kissed you deeply pulling you more into him, your chest against his, while his hand rested on your inner thigh now. You felt his tongue enter your mouth, and you moaned at his taste. The kiss deepened and his other hand groped your ass now. The hand that was on your thigh, found its way to your pussy, stroking your wet boxers. His lips moved from your lips to your neck again, before he pulled your sports bra off and started kissing your breasts, his tongue coming out and flicking your nipple softly.

You moaned, when his hand went into your boxers now, making circle movements on your clit, him feeling how wet you are, made him chuckle darkly, you felt his hard dick against your thigh through his sweats, moving slightly, so he'd also feel some friction. He gripped your hips, forbidding you to move. His hand speeded up and you moaned, slowly feeling your release come. He pulled them off, now entering your soaking pussy with two fingers, curling them inside you and moving them quickly, giving you no time to adjust to having something in you. You moaned as the orgasm felt closer and closer. He bit your nipple, and the second you felt you release come, a loud moan leaving your lips, he stopped. You looked at him, face flushed, lips swollen, cheeks red and eyes needy. You breathed heavily and he laughed low and dark, getting turned on by seeing you like this.

"So needy.. you want me to fuck you, baby?" He spoke into your ear, nibbling at your earlobe, and nodding eagerly. He pushed you off his lap and next to him again, your juices dripping onto his couch, while he got up and walked behind it, pulling you up, so you'd sit straight. He gripped a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back, making you look at him. "Open your mouth." He ordered, and as needy as you are, you obeyed. He grabbed one of the glasses with whiskey, your hair still in his hand, as he let it drip into your mouth, the liquor burning as it ran down your throat, you drank every sip, breathing needle, when he was done. He went back to standing in front of you now. "You ready to be fucked?" You nodded, you were ready.

He pulled you to the edge, holding your leg with one hand, while the other pulled down his sweats, letting his dick spring out. He held both your legs now, giving him a perfect you of your pussy. He smirked, teasing your entrance with the tip, before slowly entering you, making you whimper. He didn't keep up the way he entered you, the second he was fully inside you, he pulled out quickly and entered you again hardly, thrusting rough and hard, a rhythm you didn't even know was possible. You moaned loudly, his name leaving your lips. He went rough, groaning with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping, your wet pussy, yours and his sounds filled the room. You arched your back, feeling your release slowly come again. He thrusted harder, when he felt you were close, his thrusts so hard and rough, the couch he was fucking you on, moving backwards. Your hands found his back, nails digging into it, your sweet release oh so close. "Cum for me, show me how well I'm fucking you." He spoke, and hearing his voice is what send you over the edge.

In-ho fucked you through your orgasm, your eyes shut and your legs shaking softly, not long after your release, In-ho also shot into you, fucking his cum inside you. He looked down, loving the way your releases mixed with each other. He smirked, pulling out and letting your legs drop. You were out of breath and looked at him, seeing how he pulled his pants up again.. and dropped to his knees? He grinned up at you, still in the aftershocks of your previous orgasm, he placed a kiss to your swollen clit and put your legs up his shoulder. "In-ho.." you whimpered, as he sucked on your clit, your eyes falling shot, he lapped at your cunt and slapped your thigh, so you'd open your eyes and look at him. You bit your lip at the sight, of him eating your sensitive pussy. It didn't take you long, before you came again, his name leaving your lips loudly, while he cleaned your both's cum away with his skilled tongue. 

When he was done, he slapped your pussy one time, making your body bolt forward. He bit your tit, looking at you, all fucked through and exhausted. "Get up. You still got a job to do." He chuckled evil, calling another guard in, to bring him to the other players again, letting you lay on his couch, no aftercare, nothing.

[lady-belz]

Lady in Red

Pairing: BTS x Female Reader Genre: crack, domestic crack & fluff Note: Based off of this incorrect BTS crack quote from @7ndipity. This immediately popped into my head after I read it and I just started laughing hysterically. I'm sorry, Hobi!

Snow White and Her Seven Dorks

Hobi: is anyone home right now?

Jimin: still in practice for another hour, sorry.

Jin: I'm going over some distribution things for my alcohol. I'll be a bit yet.

Namjoon: at the studio with JK and Yoongi. One of our tracks deleted itself so we're in a re-do.

Hobi: Tae?

Tae: still visiting my parents. Sorry.

Y/n: I'll be home in about 15 minutes. Why?

Hobi: it's okay. It can wait till you get here.

Y/n: you sure?

Hobi: yep!

Y/n: okay, see you soon.

Since it didn't seem like anything was wrong, you took your time getting home from work, making a stop at the local chicken restaurant you liked to frequent to pick up dinner for everyone.

The guard at the front gate smiled at you in recognition as he buzzed you through, passing you the collected mail for the day. Parking your car in your designated spot in the garage, you grabbed everything up and headed inside.

“I'm home!” you called out as you sorted through the mail before dropping it on the small table inside the door. You slipped out of your shoes and coat before making your way through your home. “Hobi?”

“In the kitchen!” you heard him call back.

“I picked up dinner. Figured that Jin or Yoongi wouldn't want to cook after working all day.” you smiled, stepping into the kitchen. “How was your-” you paused when you saw him standing on top of the kitchen counter. “-day?”

“Hi?” he grinned.

“Why... are you on the counter? Jin's going to kill you if he sees that.”

“Um... why wouldn't I be?” he asked back. “I live here too. I can stand wherever I want, thank you very much. I'm not scared of Jin.”

You stared at him for a good long minute, making him fidget, before sighing deeply.

“Where is it?”

“Under the table! Take care of it please?” he whined, crossing his arms and shuddering. Shaking your head, you got to your knees and slowly glanced around beneath your kitchen table, spotting the offender right away. You couldn't help but chuckle. You carefully reached out, scooping the offender up between your palms before climbing back to your feet.

“It's just a ladybug, Hobi!” you giggled, showing it to him. He made a screaming noise and started dancing away, nearly falling off the counter.

“Get it away! Get it away!” he shouted. Laughing you went to the kitchen door and let it loose in the tree outside before coming back in. You showed him your empty hands.

“All gone, come down from there before you hurt yourself.” you giggled, holding out your hand for him. He took your hand in his shaky one before jumping down. You pulled him into a hug, feeling his heart racing against your cheek. “Poor baby.” you giggled again.

“Not a baby.” he mumbled into your hair.

“Totally a baby.” you grinned, leaning back to kiss his cheek.

“Don't tell the guys? I will never hear the end of it.”

“I promise.” you giggled, linking your pinky with his. “Help me get dinner ready.”

“Okay.” he grinned, turning to get the bags you'd left on the kitchen table.

You didn't have the heart to tell him there was a ladybug on the back of his shirt...

-The End-

[deluluass]

Time cast a spell on you

Content warnings: rape/noncon; graphic depictions of violence; major character death; self-harm; implied suicide; name-calling; degradation; misogyny Other tags: heavy angst; yakuza AU; multiverse; reincarnation; actually just an old lady's excuse to finally write a silver springs angstfic

There are two things about his life that Sukuna knows to be true.

One—

He was born to rise above all men.

And, two—

This is not the first time.

It's like picking a flower when he takes you on his lap. "Wanna hear about the little shit from earlier?" he groans into your ear, squeezing your ass.

"Sir, the blade."

You're keeping yourself from landing where he's got his thighs spread apart— prude bitch, but he is who he is. And you're just not strong enough.

"All good, doll," Sukuna reassures you.

The straight razor in your hand could cut his throat. You're not being stupid for keeping it at arm's length. It's old— the kind of thing brown-nosers would call vintage, collected and well-cared for with a gold handle— but it sure as hell can nick and make a caught fish out of a grown man. He knows because he’s since developed an eye for these things. That’s why when it was gifted to him a few years back, he had done nothing more but make the guy lick the toe of his shoe for being so thoughtful towards poor, fatherless Sukuna.

He offers his throat to you and juts out his chin, stubble lathered with cream.

“Just be careful,” he teases.

You go to work without a word. The blade is a kiss against the barely-there hair. You glide your hand sure as can be, fingers resting over the shank, until half of his face is as smooth as a baby’s bum. Water drips from the faucet and clinks into the wide porcelain tub behind him.

The silence could tick off even a monk.

“Anyway, this man, right?” Sukuna begins to mutter, curling his lips in once you shave over his mouth. “Drove me up the wall today, kitten, you wouldn’t even believe it. Water boarded, tased, had his balls cut off, still, not talking. But just as I thought he would— ‘Don’t fuck with people who got nothin’ left to lose,’ he tells me.”

You are soft under his palm. “So, I’m like, fuck does that even mean?” Sukuna continues, bending his neck to the side to give you more room to work with. “And that’s when I just about lost it. I was hungry. It was hot and I was getting tired. We’ve been at it for five fucking hours and I had to end it somehow. What’s a guy to do, huh?”

You don’t answer, but he keeps going. “I had his bitch taken out of the car.”

The blade over his jaw halts. Sukuna grins. Open his mouth some more and that thing could kill him right now. But would it? Would you? He feels his cock, stiff as a motherfucker and balls heavy in his boxers.

“Pretty, young thing. My boys said she was tight too.” The bit of skin where his lips meet stings when you stroke over there. “And that’s when he started singing.”

His laugh rumbles off his chest, before pulling you closer. “Like a bird,” he sighs to your ear.

Don’t fuck with people who got nothing left to lose, my ass.

Your heart is a battering ram, and he feels every weak, desperate blow. There’s no longer a trace of cream to be found on his face.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Sukuna coos as he tips your chin up. “Something I said?”

As always, you do not speak, that gaze of yours gone off to someplace else. He clings his tongue. The blade sinks down, down, down over his throat. Your hands tremble as tears come rushing down your face.

There she is, he thinks with a satisfied groan.

“Go,” he commands. “Kill me.”

He waits, watching you as his thumbs caress the swell of your tits, then mouthing your nipples over the loose cotton of your top. Your nipples harden over his sweeping tongue. He bites and takes the fabric between his teeth.

The blade nips in time, but he doesn’t take his eyes off of you. Blood trickles to his bare chest. It blends seamlessly with the cherry blossoms and dragons tattooed on the pectorals, although old Emma-ō on his stomach looks like he gashed his eye out.

This is his favorite part. And it never gets old no matter how many times he sees it: your face falling apart, searching for a way out only to come to terms with the fact that this is it.

There’s nowhere to go. You’ve reached a dead end.

It was raining that day he first caught sight of this. On your knees before him, a blade hung over your neck— a simple, crude, mundane blade—held by a lowly servant. That was all that you amounted to. You didn’t even deserve a death dealt by any of his four arms.

And that’s all that you amount to now. You take the razor off his neck and bring it to yours.

“You’re gonna kill yourself? Some big plan you have there.” He scoffs, pushing your ass down to grind into you. “Do it, little girl.”

Your panties are pushed to the side, but nothing comes out of you. Not a single gasp or moan. Just those tears and that never ending vacuousness before you. His fingers twitch. He should just kill you right now. Get this all over with.

“Worthless cunt,” Sukuna growls, before grabbing your neck. The razor clatters off your grip. And soon enough you’re on the floor beneath him, throwing scratches and kicks that almost hit him. So, so close.

The blotched scar on your left palm peeks through his clutch.

“That’s more like it,” he barks out, laughing as he pins your wrists to the pearl tiles. Your thighs are forced apart, hanging limply over his. “Now, say it.”

“You’re a monster!”

His laughter rings sharply in his ears. “How nostalgic.”

He takes his cock out of his boxers, heavy in his hand and already leaking, before smacking the tip over your clit.

“What’re you hoping to achieve this time, hm?” It doesn’t take long before he’s aching to have your cunt gripping around him. His cock is slick enough for the both of you anyway. “Take it, you’re a good girl, you can take it, good girl, just like that, yeah.”

You whimper breathlessly, releasing that cute little whistle of a cry every time his thrusts brush the cushy, spongy lump way, way deep inside you. Sukuna feels his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he just can’t help it.

“You look so pathetic,” he jeers. Pathetic and even prettier when he gives your face a slap or two. “Were you hoping I’d take pity on you? Show remorse, that it? And what d’you think’s gonna happen after you bleed to death? I’ll tell you, it’s okay, I’ll tell you—”

He leans down, your lips almost touching, as he tells you, gently, “I’ll call for room service, have your body in a bag, give the cleaning guy a tip for his time, and then— then that would be it. That is it. You have nothing. No one would say anything, no one would cry, no one would go searching. Your story ends at a dump. Just some pussy to sell.”

Tears wet his cheeks, tracking like a stream, and his cock throbs inside you. If heaven were real, it exists right here. “Then, once that’s over, I’d get another piece of ass that won’t fuck me over the way you did.”

You’re a hyperventilating, hiccupping mess, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He pulls out, then drags you down by the leg so that your face is at the receiving end of his cock.

All it takes are some nice, firm tugs at his shaft and he’s shooting his load all over that pathetic, pretty little face. A creamy splatter over the bridge of your nose, dripping down your cheek and mingling with drying tears. Sukuna doesn’t bother wiping when he’s got you for it.

“Clean it up, baby,” he whispers.

And you do.

You suck at the tip where he’s still leaking, tongue lapping up what’s left of cum.

He then gets up to pat his face with a towel and a shaving lotion, gelling his hair back afterwards. You hobble towards the other side of the bathroom. Your lone figure, sitting naked inside the tub, is reflected and scattered into a hundred different you’s by the floor-to-ceiling mirrors caging you on all sides.

The hot water spills over the wide tub and into the floor. Sukuna sighs, before approaching you to grip the back of your head, leaving a loud kiss on your lips. You bite back, and his cock twitches again.

He forces his tongue in, keeping his eyes open. So do you.

You part with both of your spit tied loosely together, until it melts and disappears into the water.

“Please lock the door on your way out,” you croak.

After all that, any man would feel compelled enough to move mountains, so he indulges you.

The lights in the walk-in closet are bright when he dons his button-up and slacks. He sits on the chair that faces the skyline. Under his feet, the city waits, half-asleep. A whiskey later, and he still hears water rushing.

And rushing.

And rushing.

Sukuna throws the decanter into the carpet, then strides to the bathroom. But he finds, with a sneer, that he cannot get in.

“Open,” he growls as he twists the handle and bangs the door. “Don’t fuck with me, open the door.”

Like most things, it eventually breaks under his hands, and once it does, the door crashes with a thunderous clap, alerting the men posted outside.

They wait behind him, no one dares to move until he does.

It takes Sukuna a second before he’s stepping inside the bathroom. The water on the floor is bright red, spreading like ink, and the closer he gets, the darker it becomes. You are lying in the tub, hand splayed over the rim. Your fingers are slack around the straight razor. You are a cold, plucked flower in his arms. 

And the water does not stop rushing.

--

“FOR COLLUDING WITH THE SORCERERS OF THE NORTH, FOR THIS TERRIBLE ACT OF TREACHERY AGAINST LORD SUKUNA, AND FOR UPSETTING THE GODS WHO WE BESEECH TO GRANT US MERCY IN THE COMING HARVEST—”

They are no better than ants as they bustle towards the courtyard. Commoners and nobility alike jab their way to get the best view even when there are dark clouds overhead, while handmaids trail behind the highborn ladies with bright silk robes, parasols popping open one after the other. Ants and dogs, the lot of them.

The air is humid, and it brings with it a stench of iron that makes Sukuna’s mouth water. The spectacle of bloodshed has not been done in a long, long time, and anyone with a pulse clamor for it, regardless of where they stand in this insignificant, unimpressive kingdom.

Seated on the dais, he yawns and thinks, in hindsight, that he could just end this all himself. But he does not. By his side, Sukuna can feel Uraume’s shame like hail against the earth.

It was him, after all, that brought you to Sukuna as a gift.

To while away the quiet hours, he said.

A poor villager whose meagre value lies in what’s trapped inside her skull. Washed up ashore. No family. Not even a single thing to call her own.

“— IS HEREBY SENTENCED TO DEATH!”

The priest pauses. The audience catches its breath.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY LAST WORDS?”

You make no sound, head down and on your knees: the center of the attention of a hundred gluttonous eyes.

To everyone’s delight, it is Sukuna that breaks the silence.

“I want to see her,” he orders. They make you turn away from the people.

And you do not disappoint Sukuna. You never have.

The emotions of the lowest animal flutter across your face— a predictable end to be sure, but even then, your gaze does not falter.

You look at him as the priests chant a prayer. You look at him as the executioner lifts the sword. You look at him and, in that heartbeat where the blade just about grazes your nape, it seems to Sukuna like you’re witnessing this entire execution from high up above.

All twenty of his fingers itch. “Arrogant wench,” he mutters.

The sword sings at the taste of your blood as your head tumbles off into the mud.

Rain, soon enough, begins to fall like arrows on the capital.

After the crowd has dispersed, sated, Sukuna dismisses Uraume. And then he is left alone.

He steps out into the rain, stopping only to where they held you down. The rain has already washed out the blood, but right where he’s standing there are two dents on the ground the size of pebbles.

That must’ve been where you’d dug your knees.

He crouches down. The tips of his fingers sink into the hollow soil.

He feels rain drops break on his skin, tungsten and diamond, and the fire that has forged him grows bigger, deeper inside him. It feels like it’ll lay waste to his own body, but it doesn’t. Instead, it eats the whole world. The fire chews through wood, metal, and mineral, until screams and cries create a symphony just for his ears.

Yet, it only feels colder, somewhat— and the only warmth comes from where he’s got his fingers buried.

The rain does not stop. Fire reduces to ash. Water reduces to smoke.

And in his mouth, there is a child’s curse, tumbling off his lips.

How does it go again?

Rush, rush, rivers, oceans, rush into a steam…

“Whish, whoosh,” Sukuna drones. “Whish, whoosh, go and form daydreams.”

--

There are two things about his life that Sukuna knows to be true.

One—

He was born to rise above all men.

And, two—

This is not the first time.

He understands the factual nature of these two things because he recalls, in vivid detail, two of the times that he’s been alive. He had four arms that he still misses to this day like phantom limbs. This is what he knows the moment he gets old enough to pick pockets.

In each one of them, Sukuna remembers the sensation of power.

Raw, soaring power unlike anything that has ever existed before. In the first life, Sukuna was a sorcerer, a demon, and— more accurately, he was a god.

The second one is a bit different. Stranger, too, funny enough, than the first. He was not any of those things, but close to it, in a way. The memories come to him inside a cell after a fight. In that life, Sukuna conquered galaxies, and the stars and the suns and the moons yielded to him. Planets gave under his feet. That ancient future called him emperor, and there was not a corner of that vast universe that did not tremble at his name.

The first one has got to be his favorite, while this one… took some getting used to.

Sukuna only has two arms to begin with. The standard affair. He doesn’t have a curse to wield or a galactic army to lead. Nevertheless, it starts where it always does: at the bottom of the fucking barrel.

Little Ryomen Sukuna grew up in the dingiest alley of Kabuki-cho and had a crack whore for a mother. Power was something that he had to grab by the throat with nothing but his own two, regular hands, but— power was power.

And no matter where he was, in what lifetime, in what form, power was something that would eventually come to him.

It couldn’t be more evident tonight.

A year in the game and Sukuna’s already made a hostess out of Kamo’s first lieutenant— an ugly, garlic-breathed hostess pouring him a drink.

The old man pushes more women to his lap, to which they titter and giggle in response. Sukuna lets them hang onto him, fat cigar in his mouth, while the old man makes a jester of himself trying to get on his good side. To his credit, he does everything that might put a smile on Sukuna’s face, even going as far as to make a scene with another waitress.

Drinks shatter and the women surrounding them yelp out of the couch. Even the ashtray has turned to shards. Another gimmick and this old man’s done. Sukuna wouldn’t even mind if a war comes out of it. Maybe it’s just what he needs.

“Do you know who you’re serving, you dumb slut?” He’s slurring his words as he jams his thumb in Sukuna’s direction. “You can’t even give us some quality fish?! What kinda dump are you runnin’, huh?! This tastes like soap!”

As the woman bows in apology, he grabs his glass to splash its contents at her— maybe he thought this would amuse Sukuna.

“We’re sorry for the food, sir,” she announces in a clipped tone, head still down and her uniform damp with sake. Sukuna couldn’t see the entirety of her face, but it’s visible enough for him to know that she’s just a waitress, if the shapeless pants and long sleeves didn’t already make it obvious. There to put food down as silently as possible, not pretty enough to be taken out. “I’ll inform our manager about this situation right now.”

“No, no, no, missy, y’cmere, look— y’don’t gotta call anyone— could get you into trouble! I’m forgiving enough, hm! We can jus settle this ourselves, w’dyou say?”

The old man grabs her by the shoulder, pushes her down to her knees, and turns her towards Sukuna. Her eyes are still trained to the floor.

“This fine, young man over here, well, you just broke his ashtray, and now his cigar’s makin’ a mess— see that? Ash every fuckin’ where!  Now—”

He snatches her left wrist as if she’s some marionette and extends it, palm open all beggar-like, to where ash falls. “—All you gotta do’s improvise! Ladies! The night’s still young! Let’s all have fun!”

The party returns, business as usual. Sukuna only watches.

He watches the women and men— each and every one a whore, drink and sing and dance until the whole room looks like it’s about to throw up.

He watches the old man bend over backwards and just about present his asshole for fucking.

And he watches her as he flicks his cigar clean.

The ashes on her palm have accumulated into a hill. She doesn’t make a noise, wouldn’t be heard in the cacophony anyway, but Sukuna sees her flinch when ember hits her skin. The women beside him aren’t subtle. They peck and lick his neck and fondle his cock to keep his cigar away from her palm, but—

He wonders, keeping his eyes on her, what would happen if—

Sukuna flicks the cigar onto her palm, then pulls it away as he peels a manicured hand off his crotch, and even with her head down she must have already guessed because before he could even stick the glowing stub to the bit of flesh he’d intended—

She catches it.

The waitress, still on her knees, rises to seize the cigar in her palm. It burns through her skin and the sizzling invades his nostrils like grease. The women beside him cry out with the waitress, but nobody stops him as he presses it down to her palm.

“S-stop- stop it…!” Sukuna hears.

She remains on her knees, a guttural scream clamped between her teeth. Her palm does not budge, and when she finally raises that stubborn head to look at him, what he sees in there is louder than what any scream, any curse could ever be.

In her eyes are the thousand different ways that she wants him dead, along with a million other lives, and a million more universes, imploding together like a great storm.

Sukuna laughs— a sharp, incredulous thing that was stolen from right under his nose.

“It’s you,” he gasps lowly. “It is you.”

---

“—I, OF THE FEW AND HUMBLE BA-A-AYLAN, CONDEMN THIS DOMITOR’S CLAWS OVER OUR MAM-A-NA GALAXIAS…!”

The assembly is in an uproar. Guards from hovering balconies land on the steps below him. Their rifles, however, remain suspended as soon as he lifts a finger, his chin resting on the opposite hand. Remnants of the fiery rocks that used to decorate the aisle are now scattered across the polished, onyx floor, crimson pocks among the swirling cosmos around your feet.

“Y-YOU WOUND OUR LANDS- RAPE...! AND PILLAGE...!”

The beaded halo perched on your head is askew— like a gale had gone through a garden. Gold and silver coins hang from your two earlobes and on the frayed ends of your vestment. They clink together like rain as you collapse on your knees. Sweat tarnishes some of the coloring painted on your face, revealing streaks of tender, quivering skin. Although the red dot on the right side is intact, the other one is being nursed behind a bleeding hand— scorched, like the rest of your face.

A courtier points at the slaver groveling on all fours a few paces behind you. “Death to the human pirate! You dare bring this- this impertinent witch before the Emperor Du-o Dech-Im Nihil! Death!”

“P-please, my lords…! Sp-spare me…! She speaks in tongues— e-exactly what one would expect from an exotic creature—”

“Silence!”

“She is a virgin, my lords! Untouched!”

“The witch has burned half its face! It is now sullied and no longer fit for He Who Brings to Heel!”

A single glance from him is all it takes to silence the rabble.

Sukuna descends the steps.

He wraps one hand around your waist and picks you up with it. Your toes dangle over the strewn rocks. A talon lifts your chin to meet his eyes.

The unburnt side of your face winces in pain, feeble arms grappling out of his hold.

Millennia have passed since he has laid eyes upon your kind. After complete subjugation, there has been nothing much more for this lot other than labor— creatures to trade with and make trade of. There may be squabbles on that side of the universe that would-be lords and conquerors can make a feast of, but it no longer interests him.

Extinction dawns with a dimmer star besides.

Very few things can occupy his mind and even stay there. Sukuna has forgotten what the last human being he’s encountered looked like. Even the pirate, with its familiar weaponry and slaver’s garments are alien to him now, but— curious, isn’t it?

It is as if he has seen you before.

Just you.

Somewhere, in one of the corners of this endless universe.

--

He could’ve done this quicker, without all the melodrama, but the people at the bar called themselves your family. Sukuna heard it with his own ears when he followed you back to the kitchen after that night.

“We know you’re on your own,” they told you as they dabbed medicine on your palm. “But you’ve got a family here.”

And so, Sukuna watches your face as these same people that had called you their little sister take the case from his accountant.

You refuse to sit on his lap, something that he’ll allow for now. On the opposite side of the car, you can clearly see the woman who runs the establishment count the bills, each piece of paper thwip-thwipping in her hands, then stacking them together into thick towers.

One million yen.

Two.

Three.

Relentlessly, you slam your injured hand against the window.

Four.

“Mama-san!”

Five.

Six.

That is all you are worth.

“Mama-san..!” you screech, jamming the door handle that does not budge.  “I’m here, mama-san! I’m right here! Please- help me! I’m right here please don’t leave me! Mama!”

It’s not until when the woman leaves with the case that you break into sobs, your head in your hands. He’s leaning against the window on his side, arm over the headrest, as he counts down, mentally, towards the inevitable.

You lunge at him.

“What do you want from me?!” you cry, face wet with tears and snot. “What the fuck do you want from me?! Who do you think you are?!”

His driver says nothing, and Sukuna only tilts his head when you grip his collar.

He wipes your cheek as he says, more to him than you, “You really don’t remember.”

--

You have resigned yourself to death. That much Sukuna knows.

You are a pet. Nothing more. That is the way of nature: you cannot even hope to outlive him, even if he willed it so. Weak, negligible little creature.

The reptile that's got a dagger to your throat is under the misconception that you are more than that. Your palanquin and guards lie on the ground. Its mask does not conceal the fact that it’s about to piss itself, its green scales distorting into a sallow shell as he approaches the wreck.

Sukuna’s army watches. The war ministers and envoys in the ships flying above him are waiting for his next move. He’s heard the whispers.

Domitor Ryomen Sukuna, He Who Brings to Heel, Noro-I no Oh, Emperor Du-o Dech-Im Nihil— has been conquered by a human slave.

How charming, he thinks with a smile.

He does not bother to address you. He knows how you look at him.

In the same breath as a white dwarf hurtles through the sky, Sukuna has ripped the hearts of both slave and assassin in his hands.

His army ululates.

“EH-NI AH DAH-YUS!” they roar.

The ships blare their horns, groaning like a deep-sea behemoth.

Sukuna decimates the Holy Seat of Desh-Ih in a matter of two rotations. It is a battle-hardened planet, and he loses a quarter of his soldiers by the end of the last siege. There is a sensation in his chest that makes him halt as he slices their general in half.

They had put up a good fight. For that, Sukuna would remember them. And— something else.

Something he cannot put a name to. It would be irritating if it were not so…peculiar.

It rains on his way back to his ship. The planet’s neighboring galaxy, Setus, is visible despite, bloodied vessels that set flames over the graveyard of severed and incinerated Desh-Ih warriors.

And in his lips is an old song— rushing like children playing tag near a stream.

Rush, rush, rivers, oceans, rush into a steam…

Where did he hear this? Sukuna does not remember. Perhaps from a dead, primordial planet.

Whish, whoosh, whish, whoosh, go and form daydreams…

“Pitter, patter,” he drones. “Pitter, patter, please fall back to me.”

--

Your fingers are wilted stems in his grasp, and your pulse is sluggish, off-beat.

He brings them to his lips, keeping them there, pinky brushing his chin. The metal armrests are cold against his elbows and the room smells like mint. There’s a knock that takes his focus away from you. He’ll shoot the next person that tells him he needs to rest, he decides.

But it is only the rain, hitting the window pane one at a time, then coming to a downpour. Sukuna blows air out through his nose, shutting his eyes as he takes your hand with both hands and props his forehead against them. He brushes the singed mark of your left palm.

“Rush, rush, rivers, oceans, rush into a steam,” he hums, not bothering with the words, the sound a low thunder from him. “Whish, whoosh, whish, whoosh, go and form daydreams.”

The rain does not stop. “Pitter, patter, pitter, patter, please fall back to me.”

He repeats the tune, whistling this time. It echoes through the hallway.

Sukuna lifts his head, the song refusing to die in his lips, and when he does, he finds you staring right back at him. The tune crashes like a ship.

Your eyes are open, and he does not recall them being this bright, like you’d just woken up from a long and hazy dream.

“Can you speak?” he drawls.

You can. He knows you can.

But you do not.

“Speak,” he repeats.

You take your fingers from his hand and brings them to his cheek, wiping it. He doesn’t let go— refuses to let go, feeling your pulse.

It peters out, slowly.

Acid perforates his muscles, spreading from the tips of his fingers to his chest, climbing up the veins and filling them with magma, burning him from the inside, until he's all spittle and heat—

“Speak—" His voices shakes the walls. "Speak, damn you!”

You keep your eyes open, as impenetrable as they’ve always been, and for a moment there, right before they close again, the corner of your mouth lifts— a smirk— like it’s you who’s sitting on this chair, and it is him that lies there on the bed, breathing his last.

--

Your laureled horse jumps atop his incense chariot. It is promptly removed from his side and kept in yours. Sukuna tempers the urge to fling the board across the mat. Uraume sits outside, waiting.

“I’m going to die soon,” he says unprovoked, legs crossed, before moving his gold general away.

You freeze, then you slide your silver general beside your foot soldier. “I see.”

“Not gonna cry?” he simpers.

“Not in front of you, my lord.”

His incense chariot lances for your silver general. Your gold general captures it.

Cherry blossoms peer through the shoji. It was you that had drawn them open earlier, as was your habit before setting the board. ‘Flushed and efflorescent,’ you’d whispered as their petals landed softly on the grass.

He raises all of his fingers. “Keep my soul here, die for a while, then—” He grins, “live forever.”

You do not move, legs folded primly beneath you, staring at Sukuna.

“You’re a monster,” you utter.

That makes him laugh. He grabs your neck. A foot soldier stumbles off your fingers, and you swiftly place it back on the board. With it, you’ve captured his gold general.

Sukuna drags the blunt end of his nail over your throat, but stops when he remembers that the game isn’t over yet. He can do that after he’s finally won over you. He lets you go wheezing lightly.

“And yet you love me.” He pounces your foot soldier with his.

Your silver general infiltrates his territory, turning it to gold. “I do.”

“You’re a fool,” he scoffs.

“I know, my lord.”

Your tears fall on the board. Sukuna looks up, but you wipe them before he could see them on your face.

 A fool. A weak, powerless, dispensable fool.

Like picking at a scab, “Why?” he asks.

“I hardly know, my lord.”

“You can be my mistress,” he says noncommittally. “I could use one more to warm my bed.”

He picks at the silver general in his midst, taking another foot soldier with him. He could force you down now. Sukuna had even thought about it in passing before. Although, with Sukuna having yet to win a single board against you, he had not seen the pleasure in it.

This is the only battle he has yet to win.

And the one that only you can.

“Then, if I do, would you cry for me, my lord? Afterwards, would you stay by my bed when I am weak?”

“You must have taken a blow to the head, fool,” he chuckles. “Proclaim me dead and lost if I’ve come to that disgrace.”

With your western region barren, he easily devours through generals, incense chariots, and a laureled horse. You meet him piece by piece, but he has, at last, cornered you at your most vulnerable. His jade general conquers your invading gold generals.

Victory is close and you say nothing more, apart from a song.

“Rush, rush, rivers oceans,” you hum like a wind chime, putting a foot soldier forward in your eastern region that he is now making a wasteland of. “Rush into a steam.”

He smirks. “A child’s curse.”

“Whish, whoosh,” you continue, nodding with a timid smile as you discard his laureled horse. “Whish, woosh, go and form daydreams.”

It is hardly a revelation to Sukuna that you hold these infantile beliefs. Brats— bunch of human waste, are wont to sing this tune, convinced that if they do, then time, like water, would return anew— different and yet the same, so that they can keep  playing without having to hear their mothers’ reprimands.

Water to steam to clouds to rain. Then back again. Over and over, making a game of time.

“Pitter, patter, pitter, patter—” That foot soldier crosses the border. You turn it over and it transforms into a gold general. No matter. One more loss and it would be your only piece. “Please fall back to me.”

He makes quick work of the last laureled horse on your side. Your jade general sits, untouched, farther behind it.

“What’s this?” Sukuna holds out a hand to brush your cheek. “Are you cursing me so that we can keep playing?”

The suggestion cannot be lost on you. Sukuna makes sure of that. He drops his fingers to the bare skin above where your robe meets together.

You nod, humming again. “Yes, my lord.”

Your gold general moves forward to his eastern region.

“But, my lord, my curse is much simpler.”

Sukuna glances back to the board.

And there it is— that gold general, once a foot soldier, with a wordless sort of aplomb, capturing his jade general—

His king.

"I only wish to see you lose," you tell him, levelling at Sukuna with your gaze. "Even for one last time.”

[b4tteryaciid]

Ghost with glasses, anybody?

(I got glasses and contacts so I had to force Ghost to aswell.)

Sunday, January 26, 20XX, 6:00 AM

The shitty alarm clock never got old, screaming at an ungodly hour and waking Ghost up. Light was barely seeping in through the window and painting the floor with thin golden rays. He was still exhausted. The team was sent on a long three day mission and got back to base at about 1900 (7 PM). Everyone was pooped and beelined to their respective rooms to sleep.

Ghost groaned dramatically and stretched out like a startfish, banging his knuckles on the wall with a hiss. He rubbed his eyes, smearing around the leftover grease paint he was too lazy to take off and stood up, cracking his hips and knees in the process. He blinked the sleep away and slowly headed for the bathroom. He looked like shit but his face would be covered with a balaclava anyways. He splashed some icy tap water onto his face with a shiver and reached for the small white and green contacts case on the counter.

He slowly unscrewed it with a yawn and poked into the right compartment, scooping up the tiny lense. Huh that's weird. It feels funny. He squinted down at it and his heart dropped. It wad ripped. Goddammit. It his exhaustion the night before he must've ripped it while manhandling it into the case. Fuck. That would mean he would have to wear his glasses. He groaned loudly and slammed his hands on the counter. Swatting the case with the ripped lense away before ambling over to the busted brown cabinet above the toilet.

He poked around to see it he had any other lenses of if he'd have to ask Price to order more. Nope. None. Only a bottle or two of contact solution. He slammed the door shut and weighed his options. He didn't necessarily need his contacts to see. His prescription wasn't that strong, he just couldn't see from far away. It wouldn't kill him or endanger others. Okay, we'll, maybe. He was training recruits that morning so it wasn't like they'd be in an active battle zone. Price would chew him out if he willingly went out with imapred vision though. But it was just training though, could it be that big of a deal?

He opted to text Price and ask instead.

Ghost: My contact ripped. Order me more when you get a minute?

Price: Of course.

Ghost: Thank you.

Ghost: Am I authorized to not wear my glasses? We're training recruits today.

Price: No.

Ghost: Why?

Price: I cannot villingly let a visually impaired soldier around live ammunition.

Go figure. Just what he expected.

Price: It won't kill you to wear them for one day. Medical will have your new contacts in by about 1100 tomorrow.

Ghost huffed and tossed him phone down onto his bed. Whatever. Realization dawned as he realized he wouldn't be able to wear his hardshell mask and would have to wear a soft one. He dragged his feet getting dressed and begrudgingly put on his glasses, mumbling a string of curses as he did so.

---

He was sitting in one of the corner booths in the mess. Eating something squishy and bland, he didn't dare think about what it was. Atleast he had his tea. After a little bit of haggling with Price, he agreed to let Ghost take the day off and train the recruits himself. Ghost was now in dept to Price, or so he claimed, but he knew Price wouldn't act on it. He successfully avoided everyone, except one cook who didn't seem to pay him any mind as she was busy with three other things at once. The day was looking good. No human interaction whatsoever. He would retreat back to his room and read a book or occupy himself with something else.

Famous last words.

The loud giggles and chatter of Soap and Gaz filled his ears. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. He prayed they wouldn't notice him.

"Ghost!"

'Can't have shit can I?' He thought. He sighed reluctantly and looked up, meeting the eyes of the Scott. He was bouncing with energy. How he had a pocket full of sunshine at 9 AM Ghost would never know. They both stopped in ther tracks, Gaz shooting him a puzzled look that slowly morphed into a poorly disguised smirk. Soap had a goofy grin on his face, he opened his mouth to say something before Ghost interrupted.

"Not a word." He growled, pointing the fork at the both of them.

"Nice spectacles Ghost," Soap giggled, sliding into the booth next to him. Soap and Gaz shared a look over the table and burst into hysterics. Soap was crying he was laughing so hard and Gaz was trying his best not to wheeze.

"I'll skin you both," he grumbled with a hint of amusement. They would never let him live this down. They'd never leave him alone. 'This is gonna be a long day', he thought.

[pearlescentparade]

can I get uhhh two time x reader fluff

when fine shyt lowk offputting but theyre cute so its okay

🔄 two time x reader fluff 💝

"i could just stare at you forever," two time blurts out randomly while you two are sitting on the couch, innocently beaming when you turn to look at them with a worried look. "..that's creepy, timey. plus, you already do!" it's true, you can feel their eyes on you whenever you do anything around the house. last week comes to mind, when you went to get the laundry.

"oh, shoot, i need to get the clothes from the dryer. i'll be right back!" you jumped up from your spot on the couch next to two time, and walked to the bathroom where your washer and dryer were located. crouching down, you opened the door to the dryer and began transferring the clothes to a hamper. when you finished, you lifted the hamper up and turned to leave when you saw someone.

staring at you. from behind the doorframe. one hand clasped on it as they peeped at you. eyes dark and smile wide.

your blood ran cold as you screamed, dropping the hamper of clothes and spilling it on the floor. thrown off-balance from the sheer fear you felt, you also fall on your behind. the peeping tom, who you then realized was just two time, emerged from behind the doorframe and rushed to your side, helping you up.

"shit- timey, what the hell!?" you stood up, brushing off your clothes. "sorryyy, hehe. i only wanted to check on you! can't i look after my partner??" despite your more-than-dismayed expression and language, two time continued to grin, as if they didn't almost kill you with a heart attack. your eyes narrowed, "i said i'd be back quickly, i wasn't going to take that long! ...don't sneak around like that, or you won't be getting any kisses or anything for a week!!" their smile dropped completely, now replaced with a wide-eyed frown. it always unnerved you how quickly their mood could change. "..are you mad at me? pleasedon'tbemadpleasepleasepleasepleaseimsorrypleaseiwon'tdoitagaini'msorry-" they rambled for your forgiveness. you felt hesitant now, any initial anger you had dissipating at their pleas. "..no. i'm not mad, just- you can make it up by picking up the clothes and helping me put them away." at that, two time brightened up again, clearly satisfied with successfully guilt tripping helping you find it in your heart to forgive them. immediately, they got to work assisting you in scooping the clothes back into the hamper.

a shiver travels down your spine and you shudder just from remembering the way they stared at you from the door.

two time tilts their head to the side, "it's not my fault! you're nice to look at! and you always have a funny reaction." they giggle playfully, watching a small blush creep on your face from the flattery. "i swear you're actually possessed." you groan in unamusement and lay your head on their chest.

"...you smell really good too."

you hit two time with a pillow square in the face.

(a/n: chat do we fuck with slightly creepy two time i wanted to highlight how unstable and insane he is while keeping it lighthearted ALSO SORRY UTS RLLY SHORT didnt really know what to write so i js freeballed it based off of a fluff prompt and also this is like . the third request ive done today)