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theplumsoldier · 2 days ago

Text

undercover(s) (18+)

summary: oh no, there's just one bed!

pairing: tim bradford x f!reader

word count: 5,4k

warnings: friends to lovers trope, dirty talk, vulgar language, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, riding that thick dick, praise, mentions of injury (reader), let me know if i missed anything<3

You were perched in front of the mirror, admiring the woman gazing back at you through long lashes.

“It's giving brat.”

False lashes, acrylic nails, threaded brows.

“You know, I'm actually kind of diggin’ it.”

Little black dress with an open back, Jacquemus handbag, golden hoops, perfumed skin, high-heeled boots.

“Damn, I look good.”

Through the mirror, you could see Tim still at it with the device, a little black box with an antenna that could detect signals from even the smallest, most high-tech recorders. It made a static noise as he hovered the stick over just about every surface and object.

“Alright. It's safe,” he finally concluded once he was content with his work.

“Could have told you as much. My contacts are good,” you sassed with a smug look, leaning your hand on your hip.

Tim shot you an incredulous look as he packed away the gear. “Yeah, you can drop the bratty attitude now, smartass.”

You chuckled as he removed the gun from his belt and put it on the dresser. “I don't know—it's kinda growing on me.”

Though you had never been undercover with Tim before, you were confident you knew him well enough to feel when something was off with him. You had known each other for a long time, and right now he was being off.

And you knew exactly why.

“Come on, it's not that bad,” you sighed, finally moving away from the mirror and stepping out of the shoes.

There was only one bed.

He arched a brow at you and rolled his eyes. “The hell it is. We're supposed to play brother and sister and we're sharing a bed?”

You snorted at his tone—speaking as if it would jeopardize the whole operation.

“Look, even if anybody thinks anything of it, I refuse to believe it'll become a problem. We'll just roll with it,” you reasoned nonchalantly.

“What?” he mouthed in disbelief. “Roll with it? I—” he cut himself off, brows knitted tightly as he ran with hands over his face.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction and folded your arms as you leaned against the wall. “I'm sure we won't be the first incestuous couple residing in Buttfuck Arizona.”

You were clearly making him uncomfortable and you were having way too much fun with it.

Tim seemed to be looking anywhere but at you. You wondered if it was the one bed or the way you looked in the dress. You hoped it was the dress.

His jaw clenched as he inhaled sharply through his nose, his mouth set in a tight-lipped twitch. He shook his head when he finally glared at you, quickly turning to unload the gear from your suitcase. "Okay—just… Get your head on straight, yeah? Meeting's set in twenty.”

***

You winced as Tim tightened the string working through the flesh of your upper arm, the hand that wasn't holding the needle holding your shoulder in a firm grip. The pain was nothing you hadn't experienced before, but his touch made you hyper-aware of every sensation in your body. Including the heat rushing to your cheeks and ears.

“Stay still,” Tim ordered, his steely blue eyes focused on his patchwork as he closed the wound and bandaged it for you. “Let me know if there's any discomfort.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you sighed, your tone lower and shakier than you expected it to be.

The deal had gone sideways, but not completely off the tracks. Tim seemed worried that your cover was blown but your instincts told you not all had gone awry—you had been caught in a knife fight with your target's enemies. While the target fled the scene and bullets ricocheted, you and Tim secured the gangsters before heading off, too, leaving the rivals disabled for when backup swooped in. You had convinced Tim the operation was not compromised—that if anything, you had substantiated your cover.

Tim went out to pick up some food and you jumped in the shower, careful not to ruin the work Tim had just finished on your arm. By the time you finished up, Tim returned with a plastic bag and you ate on the bed. You could practically feel the tension in him radiating from his body and though you tried to tune it out, there came a point where you could no longer stand it.

“Look, if you're that worried about it, we can call it off,” you proposed. “I trust your gut so if you feel like something's off, we just pull the plug. Check-in's in an hour.”

Tim looked up with a furrow, appearing confused by your suggestion. It had crossed your mind that the ordeal with the rival gang earlier on was not the only thing pressing him—the whole situation probably made him uncomfortable.

While you were used to undercover work, he had really only dipped his toes into the world. You had known each other for years; you've had drinks far into the morning, deep conversations, and seen each other adapt to life's challenges. You knew he felt comfortable around you, and you felt comfortable with him, but it made sense to you that this whole scene was somewhat unfamiliar to him.

Your jobs forced circumstances where you worked together, but you had never been entangled in a situation where either one of you got seriously hurt. It was one thing knowing someone you cared for could find themselves in a dangerous situation at any given moment; a whole other when you're present and see how things go south in a matter of seconds.

Tim shook his head, swallowing down a bite of his burger. “You've done this kind of work a lot longer than me, it's your call.”

It bothered you a tad, him showing you unconditional trust in a life-or-death situation. If he really thought there was the slightest chance you had been made, you would rather have his honesty.

You chewed your lip instead of the fry in your hand, watching him quietly, trying to read him. In all the years you had known Tim, he had always been stoic, his warmer traits only showing once his guard had been breached. While he wasn't exactly an open book, he was always blunt on his opinions—just not now.

It had to be more than just about the operation.

“We'll do the check-in to let them know we're good. We can revisit in the morning.”

Tim bobbed his head but didn't look at you.

You arched an eyebrow at him, deciding to switch topics. “So… you wanna flip a coin on the bed?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “No, you take it. I can make myself comfortable on the floor.”

Your brows knitted together and you gave him a quizzical look. “What? You sure—I mean I certainly prefer sleeping cozy, but it doesn't feel fair to just—”

“Doesn't matter. You take the bed. I'll be fine.” he insisted and finished his meal, wiping his mouth with a napkin before standing. “I'm gonna take a shower.”

Tim scrunched the trash together and threw it in the bin before locking himself in the bathroom.

You sighed and drank from your watered-down soda.

Tim planted his hands on the counter in front of the bathroom mirror, letting his head fall to level with his shoulders as he exhaled deeply. He cursed himself for agreeing to this operation.

It was one thing to know you got hurt, and another to see you suffer injury on his watch.

This is what you do, he reminded himself. You are used to this.

Tim was angry with himself for letting this get to him, although he was more disappointed that your - well, your character's - blatant flirting with the criminals bothered him in such a way—his blood boiling whenever someone looked at you with primal urges.

He had no right.

Even worse he was disgusted with himself for entertaining the thought—how your acrylic nails would feel scratching the skin on his back, how your soft and supple flesh would mold in his palms, how your glossy lips would whimper soft mewls, and how your lashes would flutter shut in bliss.

Tim inhaled sharply, clearing his throat, and turned on the shower. The splashes that hit the tiles added a backdrop to his obscene thoughts while he rid himself of his clothes, goosebumps forming on his skin.

He stepped into the downpour, leaving the shower head attached to the clasp in the wall. Tim subconsciously held his breath as he let the water burn his skin, feeling the need to inflict pain on himself to clear his mind. Regardless, the scorching sensation passed and soon enough he gave in and pumped his aching cock in his hand.

When he had showered - and shot his load down the drain - he put on a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants and a white shirt before walking back into the room.

You had already gotten under the covers, your eyes focused on the open page of your book. You had put aside two blankets and a pillow for Tim to make use of. The TV was on low volume, viewing a baseball game, and the remote was left at the end of the bed.

Tim’s jaw clenched and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him, seeing how you had laid out this display for him to feel comfortable when he had just jerked off thinking of you in a way friends were not supposed to.

He made a spot for himself on the floor, leaving his watch and handgun beside the pillow.

“You made contact?”

“Yup,” you replied softly, turning the page.

Tim hummed in response and settled on the hard floor cushioned by one of the blankets. When you felt his attention focus on the television, your absentminded gaze left the book and you watched him instead.

Even in a relaxed position, he maintained his characteristic rigid demeanor. Your gaze was caught by the broadness of his frame and the way his shoulders appeared constrained by the white fabric that hugged them.

Tim didn't seem too invested in the sports channel and soon he turned it off, lying down. You followed suit and put your book away, turning off the bedside lamp with a small grunt.

“You can read on if you want,” he said lowly.

You chuckled as you got comfortable in the bed, head leaning over the edge just enough to watch him from above. “Is that your way of telling me you're scared of the dark?”

A huff left his still body, and a grin pulled at your lips and although it was too dark to see, you could hear the smile in his voice. “Go to sleep.”

You laughed. “Yes, sir.”

You weren't sure for how long you had laid there before you began feeling restless. Instead of merely zoning out, your mind seemed to focus on every little detail. Outside the wind was ominously howling, a windchime clinking soft pitchy notes, and Tim seemed fixated on every little sound, whether it was a car door shutting or you turning in bed.

The silence inside was tangible, and you could practically hear Tim's mind running at a hundred miles per second.

Another heavy sigh escaped him as he turned on the floor with a grunt. Initially, he hadn't thought it would be that bad - Tim reminded himself he had slept in worse conditions while in the army - but now that he was here, the carpet smelled like tobacco and the ’80s pattern seemed to crawl.

He rolled on his back again, draping one arm over his eyes.

You shifted under the covers, the springs creaking beneath you. “How are you doing down there, bro?”

“Don't call me that,” he scoffed quickly, clearly far from sleep and you grinned.

You debated it in your mind before deciding to just throw it out there. It didn't have to be weird. You could literally just not make it weird. “You know, there's enough room for the both of us up here.”

Yeah, that wasn't too weird.

Right?

“What?”

Okay, you had made it weird.

The suggestion made Tim tense up, and his mind did not hesitate to picture the scenario. He knew you well enough to know the offer was innocent, but he couldn't help but imagine things far from innocent.

You chewed down on your bottom lip and tried to joke your way out of the position you had just put yourself in. “Easy, Sargeant—not offering to get handsy, just a side of the bed.”

There was another pause and the air was too thick for comfort. You were quickly coming to regret your offer, wishing the mattress would just swallow you whole before Tim could say another word. It had been a long time since you had been this embarrassed.

A moment later you could hear him move, but you didn't dare look.

“Move, then,” he suddenly muttered, and a shiver chilled your spine—he was already on his feet, so close.

You swallowed and made space for him in the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. You felt a heat rise to your cheeks when you realized he had brought the blanket from the floor, your subconscious having irrationally convinced you that you would be sleeping under the same.

Tim's movements were almost mechanical as he lied down, and you found yourself shifting further to the edge of the bed, afraid to accidentally touch him.

God, you wanted to touch him.

If nothing else, then just to see his reaction—find out whether he wanted you as much as you did him.

You stared up at the ceiling, trying to slow your breathing as your whole body tingled. You could hear Tim's breaths as well, measured and controlled like everything else he did and it bothered you for some reason. If only he would just slip up, be a little easier to read.

Tentatively, you tilted your head just enough to glance at him from the corner of your eye. His hands were folded across his stomach and his eyes were shut, taut muscles barely moving an inch as if it might actually kill him to shift.

Tim couldn't possibly be comfortable like that.

He looked like a damn robot waiting to be recharged.

While this rigid man lay unmoving beside you, your heart was hammering away in your ribcage and your thighs rubbing together like the act might stand a chance of relieving you in some way.

You returned your gaze to the ceiling, breathed out, and rolled onto your side so that your back was facing him.

The thought of what you might feel if you pushed yourself against him made you inhale sharply.

Stop it, you cursed yourself mentally.

You didn't know how long you were laying there, just staring at the wall, but at some point your eyelids finally grew heavy, sleep slowly but surely, pulling you in.

Tim wasn't as lucky.

His mind wouldn't let him get a second of rest with you lying this close to him. He tried to focus his mind elsewhere but he was all too aware of the proximity.

His mind continuously betrayed him, replaying every moment during the day that had made him feel like you knew exactly what you were doing to him—the way you had practically teased him while doting on yourself in the mirror, the way that damned dress hugged your body in ways that made him feel like a fucking schoolboy with uncontrollable hard-ons, the way you had flirted with the criminal at that meeting and the way it made him feel possessive in a way he had no right to.

Then you had offered to share the bed with him, making it sound so casual like you knew it wasn’t the worst thought you could have had—reigniting the idea of “getting handsy” in his already spinning head.

You had to know what you were doing to him.

He felt like a coiled wire about to snap; like the subtle heat radiating off of your body threatened to burn him alive.

Then you shifted.

A tiny, barely noticeable movement so small he might as well have imagined it.

But then it repeated, this time accompanied by a small sigh.

In your sleep you inch closer to Tim, instinctively seeking a warmth the covers fail to provide you.

At first, it's just your foot grazing his calf, but then you rolled over, closer to him, and your knee bent so that it rested on his thigh as you nestled deeper into the mattress.

Tim tensed and held his breath, his entire body going rigid beneath the sheets.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you continued shifting, moaning as if displeased, and rolled closer, molding your body against his side as if it belonged there.

He knew he should pull away—you're asleep, completely unaware of what you're doing. But it really did feel like your body belongs this close to him. Tim can't make himself move.

But then your hips moved, ever so slightly, and it didn't feel so innocent anymore.

Tim couldn’t think straight, his head spinning, conflicted. He was as still as a statue, stiff and unmoving. You sighed, soft and breathy, content and utterly unguarded against his body, his scent filling your lungs with safety.

Worse is when you murmured his name in your sleep. Though barely a whisper in the quiet room, it slipped through the cracks and under his skin, searing Tim from the inside out.

Before he could stop himself his hand moved down, ghosting over your hip to see if you would stir, if this was real. It was the faintest touch and while you didn't flinch, Tim was spiraling at the feeling of the curve of your body hiding beneath the cover.

His hand tentatively weighed down on your hip, ever so carefully feeling you in his palm. He froze when you shifted again, but you only pressed further into his touch and his breathing stuttered in response.

Another content moan escaped your lips, and Tim's jaw locked while his fingers clenched in reflex, tightening his grip on your hip.

A sharp inhale caught in your throat and your spine went taut as Tim's grasp pulled you from your semi-asleep state.

Your lashes fluttered against your skin and for a moment you were afraid to open them fully, fearing the man whose scent had captivated your dream might not be real.

But Tim was very real and very close, the warmth of his hand seeping through the cover and into your skin, branding you.

It took you a moment to separate imagination from reality, but when it sunk in, you melted completely.

For a moment neither of you spoke, the darkness of the room swallowing everything bar the feel of one another. The creaking bed might as well have been a cloud, peacefully floating about in the dark of the night.

Tim felt captured as your gaze studied his features, your hazy eyes full of something he didn't dare assume, but could only hope.

“Tim—” you breathed quietly, lips quivering with the unspoken, and Tim's heart ached at your voice; a raspiness, a hesitance.

He knew he should pull away, apologize, do something, but he couldn't move or say a thing. Not with the way you looked at him with desire in your eyes and your bottom lip caught under your teeth.

You didn’t pull away, you couldn’t and you didn’t want to, and judging by his hand still holding onto you, he didn’t want you to either.

You weren't entirely sure what was happening, lust and warning bells waging war in your mind, but your primal needs took over and your hips did an experimental grind.

A curse slipped from his lips, low and guttural, and he exhaled your name, a confirmation that he wanted you as much as you did him. Tim's digits dug into your hip, his stormy eyes latched onto yours as he swiftly moved on top of you, bracing himself with a strong arm beside your head—

And fucking hell it was spinning.

His lips were so close, his warm breath ghosting your skin, raising goosebumps. Your chest heaved heavily with each breath but instead of the air entering your lungs it was only him.

Another second passed and it was one wasted not on Tim, so as the next ticked in you closed the space between you completely, pressing your lips against his in a feverish kiss.

Tim's sturdy body molded against yours, his rough palm sliding up to cradle your cheek as he kissed back with an eagerness resembling your own.

All that had pent up in the course of the day, or perhaps for longer, was released then, your bodies syncing to become one in the dark of the night.

Sighing against his warm lips, you allowed your hands to find purchase on his shoulders, feeling around for any inch of revealed skin. Your fingertips slid under the sleeve of his t-shirt, tracing the hard lines of his flexed muscles, and your other hand snaked up to the back of his neck.

You could feel yourself getting more heated by each second, hungrily licking into Tim's mouth as you allowed yourself to be completely engulfed in everything him.

In turn, Tim worked on removing the blankets separating you so that your bodies were flushed.

When you felt his frame pin you and his erection press against your sex, you gasped into his mouth, every stolen glance, every flirty comment leading up to this moment, suddenly sparking every nerve ending in your body alive. Feeling his undeniable lust for you made your world tilt on its axis, making this feel overwhelmingly real. And yet, it was somehow not real enough to convince you it was not merely another fever dream. You needed him inside you, to claim you and to fill you up, to leave marks on your skin that would linger in the morning.

You bucked your hips against him, pathetically trying to relieve yourself with some sweet friction.

A low groan vibrated against your wet lips and he held your waist down with a rough grip, squeezing the exposed flesh.

You whined, looking up at him with doe-eyes. “Tim, I wanna feel you.”

“You will,” he promised, ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear making you shudder and writhe.

His stubble tickled the sensitive flesh of your throat and his mouth suctioned the skin, tongue pressing and teeth scraping, quickly contorting the pout on your face into a breathless moan.

Tim's hand brushed past the waistband of your shorts and panties with practised ease, and when two long digits dragged through your wet folds, another breathy moan escaped you.

“Fuck,” Tim cursed as he felt how wet you were for him, watching your reaction with dark eyes as he dipped the fingers into your needy hole. “Tell me—did you have a little dream about me?”

Your jaw went slack, lips parted in a silent gasp, as he slipped two fingers into you, knuckle deep. No sound escaped your throat, but you couldn't exactly stop the wet squelch coming from your wet cunt.

His palm guided your face back to his, stormy blue orbs searching for an audible answer. You hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath. “S'that why you've soaked yourself? Were you havin’ a little dirty dream ‘bout me?” Tim's fingers sunk back into your sobbing pussy.

“Yes,” you finally exhaled shakily, eyes rolling back as he slid his torturous fingers out and back in, curling them against your gummy walls. “F-fuck—yes!”

“Was it the first time?” he quizzed, clearly pleased with himself and—well, you were very pleased with him, too. He planted a chaste kiss just below your ear. “Hm? Have you dreamed of me before?”

“Ye-yeah,” you hummed, your mind barely grasping the words he spoke, everything a hot haze. “Sometimes… when I touch myself.”

“Good,” Tim murmured, scissoring his fingers into you while leaving feather-light open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

You shuddered, biting down on your wet bottom lip, focusing on the contrast between his delicate touch tracing down your collarbone and his fingers stretching you deliciously. He lifted your shirt, exposing your breasts and you moaned as he sucked on the soft flesh above your perked nipple.

Clamping down on his long fingers, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Breathing shallow, eyes rolling to the back of your head, Tim picked up on the clues.

“Let go for me, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “I got you.”

Tim continued fingering you through your orgasm, pumping slowly but purposely as you creamed around his digits. Thighs shaking involuntarily, hands struggling to hold on to anything, you cried out a shaky moan. Riding against Tim's hand, you clawed at his neck as you came down from your high, quivering lips teasing his.

“Attagirl,” praised Tim and softly patted your jaw, prompting you to open and he shoved his fingers down on your tongue. Barely out of your daze, pussy still throbbing, you moaned around his digits, sucking them deeper into your mouth when he pressed his erection against your thigh. “Shit.”

Tim pulled his fingers back out and hungrily licked into your mouth, tasting the honeyed essence on your tongue.

Your hips bucked against his hard cock, greedy for more. Looping your arms around his form, you turned him over and straddled him, the creaking of the mattress emphasizing your needy movements.

Tim inhaled sharply, large hands squeezing your waist, pressing you down against his clothes hard-on.

Steely blue eyes that looked to be brewing a storm watched you intensely, loving how fucked through you looked after just one orgasm. Hair disheveled, lips plump, neck and cheeks flushed.

Grinding down on Tim you sighed, leaning down to kiss him passionately, acrylics poking into his chest where you found purchase. You were still out of breath, but you didn't care—oxygen was no longer what kept you alive, he was.

Moaning your name, Tim felt a wave of heat rush over him, veiling him completely in your scent and desire. He could hardly believe this was happening. One thing was you dreaming, moaning his name and letting him care for you; a whole different kind of reality was you grinding down on him, rubbing your sweet little cunt over his rock-hard, twitching cock.

Tim's jaw clenched when you reached down to free his neglected erection, an inhale getting stuck in his throat as the feeling of your soft fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft.

He was heavy in your hand, certainly bigger than what you would consider average. Thick and veiny girth with an angry head leaking precum. Swiping your thumb across the weeping slit, you brought it between your lips, moaning at the salty taste.

Tim hissed and sighed your name, hips bucking upward, eager for you to sink down on him. He was getting impatient and you could feel it in the way he held you, so you drew his throbbing cock against the soaked fabric of your panties.

His grip tightened in warning before he spoke in a low tone. “Don't be a brat now, sweetheart.”

You choked on the chuckle you emitted when you pushed your panties to the side and lined him up. Pushing the angry head between your slick folds, forcing an intrusion— “F-fuck, Tim,” you cried out, sinking down on him.

The stretch was intense, a sharp pain that shot into your abdomen, but you tried to ground yourself in the moment, focusing on where you were—on an undercover mission with a colleague, a friend, a man you had suppressed your attraction to for all too long.

You inhaled deeply, your hands falling to where his were placed on your hips, guiding them up to your breasts as he allowed you to accommodate him. Doing an experimental squeeze around him, he cursed and you began moving.

“You're so big,” you shuddered, leaning forward so that your bodies were flush, grounding you, cupping your hand against his clean-shaven jaw. “Feel so full of you, Tim.”

Sinking back down on him, you began to feel the pleasure overpowering the pain, the stinging stretch becoming absolutely delicious as you felt how your walls hugged him, clinging onto him. A wanton moan rasped from your throat as you sunk back down on him, reveling in how your cunt molded to fit around his thick girth.

Picking up a comfortable rhythm that had him rubbing against all the right spots, you met his gaze, salacious eyes staring back at you through layers of desire.

“You're so beautiful like this,” he admitted coarsely, breaths heavy and jaw slack. “Ridin’ me like you were made for me—fuck… Sweetest girl, you feel so good around my cock.”

His praise settled in your chest, pulling at your heart's strings. Clashing your lips against his, you picked up your speed and Tim's hands squeezed at the soft flesh of your asscheeks, resting there, helping you keep the rhythm steady.

Your tits bouncing against his chest, ass slamming down on his thighs, and your tight, juicy pussy sucking him in—Tim prayed to God this was not the last time you would ride him.

The sexiest moan you had ever heard reverberated from Tim's chest, the sight of the strings of your slick attaching to his pelvis as you bounced bringing something resembling primal instincts out of him. A ring of your milky cum circled his engorged shaft like a pearl bracelet, hugging his base and making a complete mess on him.

“Shit, baby—I won't last long f’you keep going like that,” Tim rasped, but made no sign to stop you. A breathy, self-satisfied grin escaped you but it contorted into a moan when Tim's thumb began drawing tight circles on your bundle of nerves. He pulled you down by your hair, fingertips rough yet soothing against your scalp. “S'that what you want? Hm? Wanna milk me for all I'm worth, yeah—go ahead, sweetheart. I'll fill you up,” he coaxed.

The pressure Tim applied to your throbbing clit made you whimper pathetically, though it was barely audible over the obscene moans and slapping sounds of wet, sweaty skin-on-skin contact.

The muscles in your thighs were burning from the strain but you didn't dare stop riding him, needing him to fulfill his promise of filling you up with his seed.

Tim showered you with praise, spurring you on as he noticed how your moans crescendoed. His thumb rigorously rolled against your clit, hips bucking up and fucking into you as he chased his own orgasm. “That's it, baby—come around my cock.”

And the brink was no further away than that.

You came, pussy clamping down on his rock-hard cock, pulsing walls practically massaging Tim's thick shaft.

You desperately tried not to get sloppy, wanting him to fill you, but you were a moaning, writhing mess, and your movements stuttered.

Tim wasn't one to break a promise though, and he fucked you through your orgasm, cock relentlessly fucking into your crying pussy. Incoherent pleas for him to fill you with his cum tumbled from your lips, and he didn't leave you begging for long.

With a final thrust, hot spurts of his seed painted your velvety walls, Tim's swollen cock pulsing against your insides.

Breath heavy, panting, you slowly slid off him, limply falling on his side, barely grounded as the high wore off. Tim's large hands supported you, one cradling your cheek, thumb caressing the warm skin, while the other dragged between your legs as he whispered reverent praises.

“You did good, sweetheart.”

Your heart fluttered and you whimpered when he scooped his leaking cum from your pussy and made an effort to push it back in. Lacking the strength to do more, you merely nuzzled your head deeper into his embrace, and he pulled you closer. “Does that mean we can do this again?” you asked, somewhat sheepish.

Tim's chest rumbled with a chuckle and he placed a kiss on the crown of your head. “Of course, but you have to let me take you out on a date once we get back.”

The butterflies in your stomach began flapping their wings harder. “Deal,” you agreed with a tired smile and kissed his collarbone.

#tim bradford x reader #theplumsoldier #tim bradford smut #tim bradford fic #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie #the rookie smut

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evilminji · 2 days ago

Text

Had another Si-Oc thought >.>

My standard "you know what Would Be Cool?" Musings...

Getting reborn, as you do, ending up Force Sensitive, as can only be the case. Because really... how ELSE would you soul end up there? CHANCE? Force ghosts are a PROVEN thing! We KNOW that the Force sometimes just... deals in souls.

Ffs, it MADE A BABY.

Yes, there was Sith interference there. But that doesn't chance the fact that it went? "Eh, good enough. I'll take the chance and run with it. Thanks~☆ Mine Now~~☆ Bye~~~☆" And Chosen One'd that baby. Because ultimately? Before the plans of gods and men? The Force Laughs.

So like? Yeah. If there WAS to be a Reincarnator?

Probably the Force.

Congrats on the new, third (or second, depends on your species. Might be another number entirely, honestly. But we are averaging here so MOVE ON), Parent! They are very, very happy to see you! Love you as only a Primordial, Extradimensional, Timeless, Formless, All Pervasive, Orange-Blue Morality havin', Not-A-God Super-God CAN. Their Benevolence? Could be called another God's cruelty.

They don't MEAN too. They are just.... really, really Big. Infinite. Not organic or mortal. It's like trying to comprehend the limitations of an ant, living on a planet, circling a sun, in a GALAXY the size of a DUST MOTE. The fact that the Force can even come CLOSE? Is literally miraculous.

But of course... OC? Not the Chosen One. The favorite, special, "I have Important Things For You" child. Which.... turns out to actually? Be kinda great. The realize that quickly. Which of course, is followed by the logical follow up.

Anikin? Fuckin SCREWED. Because he IS the Favorite Child.

Oh... oh No. Oh Fuck, that is a CHILD.

How easy it is, to cast blame, to judge, when you can't FEEL the Force in your EVERYTHING. All the time. Every moment of every day. Beautiful but cacophonous, like a symphony of screaming. Like staring at the sun and never going blind. It still hurts. But it's so... so bright. So Beautiful.

Connection. To the universe itself. Soul deep and transcendent. You can feel that the universe loves you. That there is good in people. That Life itself is worth protecting. But at the same time? It is... it is so much.

Because you can FEEL the ugly too.

The greed. The hate. The suffering. Lights snuffed out, in dark places of despair. Selfish actions and deep cruelties, like barbed wire against the soul. Thorns that hook and drag. And... and you're supposed to use your words. Just... just ASK them to stop? And, What? Hope that they WILL?

It HURTS!

But pain only begets more pain. Cruelty, more cruelties still. And only the Sith, believe they can use FORCE, in any sense of the word, to change a persons nature. The Jedi build. Grow. They work together, with those who are willing, towards something better. Defend, those who can not protect themselves.

Balance and growth. Not fire and chains.

And Oc is pretty sure Anikin will agree. No one should ever be in chains. Dead maybe. Or in jail. But never, ever, in chains. (And no one ever said they were pacifists. Just not war mongers. Sometimes the only answer IS to kill your opponent. To respect their choice, but honor your commitments. Protect those you swore to protect.)

Of course... OC? Going through Jedi training. It's Pre-Anikin days. Both she and Obi-Wan are fuckin Smol. She's not even in his Creche clan. She's over here in the "wanders off, lost in their own thoughts" Chill AF Creche Clan. Not Mr. "May you Live In Interesting Times And Have Padawans JUST LIKE YOOOOOOOU" and Co., over in the... "Energetic" Creche Clan.

None of HER Creche-mates BIT people, Obi-Wan.

WE keep our fuckin teeth to ourselves, Kenobi!

So, obviously, THEY don't have a lifetime ban on the "look, don't touch" fragile plants meditation garden. Very Rich in the Force. Good for focusing. Peaceful, really. And Oc? Has the time and space? To Consider™ things. Experiment. Ponder Fandom theories. Long "lost" Cannon techniques. Maybe have one-sided chats with the Force.

.....finally get CURIOUS™.

And wonder... if? Since, you know, through the Force, she can encourage and discourage plants to grow? And somewhat control animals. Why not... micro-organisms? Say, Midi-chlorians? Force healing is all ready a thing! So the Force all ready CAN interact with the body. Effect it. Change it. What is this, but more?

Really, all she'd have to do is find them, within herself, right? They're already a part of her! Yet... not. Do they consider themselves a part of her? Or is it symbiosis? Yeah, everyone says it can't be done. Perhaps shouldn't be done. But, frankly? They said the same about a LOT of Force techniques over the years. Big leaps in progress scare the SHIT out of folks. Cause if you miss? A LOT of people can die gorey.

So she sits. Mediates. Looks. Smaller... and smaller.... and smaller....

Until she finds whispers. Humming. Chatter.

As though each and every blood cell in her body had a teeny, tiny, whispery little voice. All chattering together, talking and arguing and discussing. One great hive of progress and industry. Complaining about a lack of potassium... huh. She goes and gets some fruit. Eats it. Then settles back into meditation.

They are JOYOUS! Potassium! Yaaaaay! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

Well... what'd ya know... huh. Hello there? She tries. Only to get a whispery and very alarmed ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! BODY CAN TALKヽ(°〇°)ﾉ ‽‽‽ Y-Yeah... she can. (How are they doing that?) The conversation? Only gets more surreal from there. Filled with... a surprising number of kaomojis.

But! She DOES figure out? How to increase her Midi-chlorians count. (By asking. Supplying needed resources for the expansion.) And WITH it? He awareness blooms.

The headache is... awful. The little guys(genderless) are WAY to enthusiastic. Working way too fast. If she didn't check the next morning? They might have continued to increase, indefinitely, until her veins were SOLID midi-chlorian. They just want to HELP, you see. And if you want More? Then surely FAR TOO MUCH is better, right?

(She may have fucked up. Oh god. Ow. Fuck. OW.)

Eventually she figure it out. Only gives her healer in training Creche mate a... few near heart attacks. He'll TOTALLY forgive her! (He will not. What the FUCK OC. Experimental medical procedures?! On YOURSELF!? You're not even HEALER TRACK!!!)

So NOW? She can reliably do it to OTHERS.

Need a bit more Midi-chlorians? Nearly Jedi quality but juuuuust under that cut off? She can fix that. Come. Be a jedi. Everyone should be a jedi. In FACT~! Whoops! Oh hey. Looks like all these Midi-chlorian counters are fuckin broken! (They look perfect fi-)(Broken! :] Do Not question me) So when you find that Orohan Child in desperate need of love and care? Just bring um on back!

They're TOTALLY Force sensitive. You can just tell. It's the vibes. Look at their lil face. Vibes, man. Just hand um here. For... reasons. You go get the paperwork. A working tester. And~? Oh would you look at THAT! Perfectly within acceptance range! Neat. Called it again, didn't you, Master Koon? You really do have an eye for these things. Anyway~ off to get this little one settled~~☆ *adoring cooing noises at the baby*

Weird, huh, how there suddenly just... SO MANY random orphan babies that are force sensitive? How 'bout that >.> strangest thing.

Of course, it's a god damned open secret. Everyone KNOWS. How could they not? But? Like with most things? If they don't Officially Know™? They don't have to stop it. And it DOES help both the Force AND those kids. Can be reversed if they don't like it, later. (They asked. All hypothetical of course.) So OC is basically Temple bound, so she can receive any new kiddos. To... you know... Check Their Health, on the way to ACTUAL healers.

But she's ALSO waiting. And as her skill increases? She can FEEL midi-chlorians, easier and easier. Until it gets to the point? Where if she's bored and zoning out? Not even ture meditation anymore? She accidentally tunes into Midi-chlorian Live~☆ the talk show. (What's the latest gossip from bodies nearest to her? Oh? Your second spleen is acting funny? Better remember to tell him to get that chec-)

Palpatine can't hide SHIT. It's literally in his blood.

And MAD at him.

This is NOT what they're FOR. He's taking TERRIBLE care of his body! Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOOOOOOU! You want power? Choke on it, you-!!!!!

Holy shit. So THATS what Sith Midi-chlorians feel like. Oh my god. They... they are SO MAD. Like tiny wasps. That have been violently shaken in a jar. She's never used the word "seething" in reference to someone before... but like...? If they COULD stab him? Man would be a thick paste at this point.

She's not sure what facial expression she makes. But it sure is obvious. As is the blatant, horrified staring. And refusal to get near him. HE doesn't notice, being to busy with the powerful. But the Jedi sure as fuck do. Because THEY sent her? Out with a Shadow. You know... just in case.

Cause she literally can not be replaced.

She not High Ranked... she's just priceless. Equal sort of significance, but in a very quiet, Soft Power sort of way. She is, after all, single handedly? Reversing centuries of slow population decline. Her entire Line promises to be the next Yoda's line. Priceless and with far reaching significance. So obviously, they're making sure that shit stays locked down.

No one is to so much as BREATHE about this.

Not until her great-great-GREAT Grand Padawan has passed their Knight Trials so HELP US. We LEARN from our mistakes! Need we bring out the records? Times we got cocky? Sith and political fuckery!? No. Oc stays INVISIBLE. There is no war in Ba Sing Se! Move along!

So like? Why is Miss Midi-chlorian Sensor and Future of the Jedi... making that face? She's literally NEVER made that face. What sort of monster do you have to BE? Huh? Shadow asks, casual as fuck, like he's not a plotting plotter who's planing terrible things, what's up?

She tells him. Palpatine has RANCID vibes. His midi-chlorians fucking DISPISE him. She's literally never seen that before. In anyone. Didn't even know that was an option. They would gleefully kill him if they could.

.....senator Palpatine is Force Sensitive?

Yes.

.......Interesting™(Ominous Intent)

Says local Shadow, who is perhaps putting together some dots. May not be getting the correct picture. But is getting the Vibe. And boy howdy, he does NOT like the vibe. Has got himself some questions. Cause Mr "uwu I'm harmless" lil mask? Only holds up? If you're willing to believe him.

Shadows don't buy that shit. Shadows? Need receipts. Full character statements and an audit on the fucking hospital you were BORN AT. Every credit you picked up off the side walk, why, and where you spent it.

Give them your Secrets. Or they'll keep digging until they find them.

uwu Their ASS. Gonna tear this bitch APART.

......huh. So THIS is why you guys keep accidentally getting married to Mandalorians on missions. (We agreed not to mention that.) (Fucker, I agreed to nothing. Shouldn't have eaten my special Me Day pudding if you didn't want me to gossip.) Man, her friends are... a trip. Uh... have fun? Happy hunting? I guess? *feral Jedi noises*

She? Continues to wait. Palpatine? Begins to have a VERY bad time. (Ha! Get fucked!)

Unfortunately, it's not fast enough to stop his dumbass plans. He just gets desperate. Figures more power is the answer. Because of course he does. So here comes the "oh nooooo~ my planets under attack~ better manipulate a child and make me president of the galaxy!" Plan. Fucker. Bastard.

She can't stop that.

But what she CAN do? Is be there. Waiting. For HIM.

Her little brother. Her son. Her center of the universe. The most important man to ever live... and also? A scared little boy. Far, far from home. The only other person who understands just how BIG the Force is. How much it weighs. How even as it crushs you... you can't bear to put it down. Not even for a moment. Because it loves you. And it hurts, that it does.

And... oh. Oh.

He is so very small.

Dirty, tired, in lovingly mended clothes that are barely beyond scrap. With bright, bright eyes like hope and starlight. He sings inside. Like freedom. Like hope. Daring to ask "why CAN'T you be kinder?", "why CAN'T we be free?". A storm of change. Bright and beautiful.

A child. Great and small, all at once.

Oc can't help but smile. Because, oh. Oh how long, she has waited to meet him, Anikin Skywalker. Welcome. Are you hungry? Cold? Let's get cleaned up. See the healers first. The council can wait.

Chips are removed and food is shared. Warm clothes, soft and new. And she can not help but smile, smile, smile. Even as her face begins to hurt. For years she has gathered. Planned. Studied and trained. As though some part of her knew. As though all for this moment. Taking one of those small hands in hers. Looking right in his eyes.

"It's going to be okay."

Because it IS. Because regardless of what they decide? OC will be with him. Regardless, she's going to go and make sure his mother is free. Not bought, not sold. Free. She has friends who can help. Will learn how to remove the chip herself if she must.

And? He IS going to be a Jedi. Even if he never become a Coruscant Jedi. Even if he decides he doesn't agree with how they do things or they decide the disagree with how HE does things. The Jedi have changed before, they will change again. Living things are meant to grow. Meant to change. And people can be both wrong and right at the same time. It's messy.

But what's important? Is Anikin is not alone anymore. And Oc is gonna help teach him. And someday? HE'S gonna break chains. So many chains. Gonna help people heal. If he wants to. (He does) But for right now? A quick talk with some old people. Maybe a nap. And we either get settled or arrange a trip back to Tatooine. To pick up your mom. In the meantime! You can figure out what classes she might wanna take. Where seems like a good place to settle. *chatting as they walk off, hand in hand*

Just? Sometimes a Padawan-ship is you, your Teacher, your OTHER Teacher, and her body guards that teach you Cool Knife Tricks and how to gamble, behind Obi-Wan's back! :D

@legitimatesatanspawn @mayfay @leftnotright @babbling-babull @hdgnj @spidori @the-witchhunter @lolottes

#minji's writing #Chosen Family AU #star wars #anikin skywalker #star wars oc #star wars si oc #long post #i chose to believe that Shadows are the Feral Jedis #let them BITE #who gave Anikin a knife?#vos obviously #you'd THINK Thome is the level headed one #but thats a fuckin LIE #they know the truth #he just mastered the I Am A Calm Professional face #you know... Like a LIAR

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yuurei20 · 2 days ago

Note

If possible! Could you discuss the differences between the original jpn and eng translation of the curry incident from Kalim’s vignette?

Hello hello! Thank you for this question! 🍛

※Disclaimer: the fan translations below are a little awkward in English in order to stay as literal to Kalim's original dialogue as possible instead of inventing details on the game's behalf, as he does things like drop personal pronouns.

Original Kalim: Curry, bamya, saltah......to put it simply, stews are the dominant cuisine in my country.

EN Kalim: Like curry...Basically, we're big on stewed stuff.

Original Kalim: Well......a while back, some curry resulted in a rough situation.

EN Kalim: Well, it's because of a bad experience a certain someone had a long time ago.

Original Kalim: Not quite, but something like that, yeah. Bedridden for days......

EN Kalim: Not exactly, but close enough. Let's just say it involved being bedridden for days on end.

Original Kalim: Ever since then I've struggled with curry.

EN Kalim: I've avoided curry since then.

Original Kalim: First to eat the food that was brought out, as usual, and afterwards turned pale......

EN Kalim: One day, when we had curry as usual, he tried some before me and immediately went pale.

Original Grim: There was something that had been put only on your plate......?

EN Grim: Something was mixed into only your curry?

Original Kalim: Mm--I don't really know the details......

EN Kalim: I'm not really sure, honestly.

Original Kalim: Had never seen Jamil look so drained before......will never be able to forget it.

EN Kalim: But that was the first time I ever saw him so sick. I'll never forget it.

Original Kalim: ......well! Jamil himself doesn't mind at all, and it seems like still loves curry, even now!

EN Kalim: Jamil himself wasn't really bothered by it, though, and he still loves curry to this day! I'm the one who's against having it.

Original Kalim: There won't be curry, but the Land of Scalding Sands has a lot of other delicious things, too.

EN Kalim: Well, we aren't offering curry, but we have plenty of other great traditional cuisine.

Included many small changes just for the curious, but maybe the biggest things are the removal of "bamya" and "saltah" and the addition of "I'm the one who's against having it"?

There is also the "Jamil ate first, as usual" line that was changed to "we had curry as usual."

The "usual" thing was not the curry--the "usual" thing was Jamil eating first from Kalim's plate, as he is Kalim's poison tester!

There is also EN's removing of the ellipses from character dialogue that I don't think I have really mentioned before (seems a little pedantic even for me 💦) but happens all the time, making the characters sound maybe more confident than they actually are, when in reality they are hesitating and thinking before they speak 🦦

I hope this is maybe what you were looking for!

#twstask #twisted wonderland #Kalim Al-Asim

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 2 days ago

Text

second chance. l Frankie "Catfish" Morales

Summary: you broke up after a quarrel, now you've met again

Warnings: angst, mentioning drug addiction, crying, breakup, mentioned Santi, some fluff at the end

A/N: I had to clear my head. I'm not proud of it, but I had to write something. Be gentle. Thank you for being here and reading these scribbles.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist][Frankie Morales masterlist]

"Hi, you look good."

You didn't expect those words, but you knew that voice so well that your heart skipped a beat. A strange feeling filled your body, as if someone had suddenly stripped you of all your insides and left you empty. Even though the pub was filled with people, suddenly it was just you and him.

"Hi, Frankie." You replied, trying to keep your voice neutral. "You look good too."

A small smile appeared on his lips, he probably realized that it was just a polite greeting. A greeting for those who know each other. But you were more than that, right?

You didn't expect to meet him in this pub that evening. It was a strange assumption, because after all, you lived in the same city. However, when you break up with someone, and that breakup was like a hurricane and an earthquake in one, you don't usually try to meet them again soon.

And so it was with you and Frankie. Almost a year ago, maybe a little longer. And now he was standing in front of you. In a clean shirt and dark jeans, in a cap you knew so well. Brown eyes stared at you with the same attentiveness as before. He really looked good. Like he had a good night's sleep, eaten a few solid meals and... was clean.

"Do you come here often?" he asked, he noticed you looking around the crowd of people looking for someone with your eyes. "Um, are you here with someone?"

"With a friend." you replied. "Do you remember Sarah?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I remember. A girls' night out?"

"Something like that. But no, I don't come here often. I don't have much free time."

Frankie smiled, and a part of your brain woke up sending you a signal - you loved his smile so much.

"I always thought you worked too much." he said, winking at you.

"That's not it." you looked down and there was silence for a moment.

You felt embarrassed by his presence, but it wasn't uncomfortable. You had worked through all the bad feelings you had when you broke up, and you actually missed him a little. Did it make sense? You had broken your hearts, but you still missed him. Was it masochistic?

"I've been going to school for a while now. You know, I told you about it. Back in the day..."

Frankie's eyes widened with interest as he remembered what you were talking about. "No, shit! Really? That's great! You've wanted to do this for a long time, so good for you."

A warm feeling crept up the back of your neck, but you smiled widely. "Thank you."

Frankie bit his lip and nodded in appreciation. "I've always thought you were incredibly smart. So that's what's taking up so much of your time now? That and work?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I go days without a proper meal or... I'm sorry, that must bore you."

"No! Go on, darling."

The sweet nickname slipped out of his mouth naturally, and it was even more natural when he took your elbow and led you a little to the side so you could talk in peace. The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils, you knew it so well. Your body began to react with pleasant excitement to his presence.

"And what about you? How's life?" you asked.

Frankie adjusted his cap and let out a breath. "Good. Quite good." he replied. "I changed companies, and now I have really good conditions."

"That's great."

"Yeah, I think so too."

It was late when he got home, but he could feel something was wrong from the very beginning. All the lights were on, and the noises coming from the bedroom were rather unusual.

Damn it, you should be asleep already. He didn't feel like starting another row, and they filled these walls almost every day. However, he dragged himself down the hallway and gently pushed the door open.

Frankie didn't expect this. There was an open suitcase on the bed. He noticed a bundle of your clothes thrown into it in disarray. The drawers in the dresser and the wardrobe were open.

He cleared his throat and took a step, but at the same moment you came out of the bathroom carrying your cosmetics in your hands. You stood there paralyzed when you saw Frankie in the doorway.

Your eyes were swollen from crying, but there was something else in them. Anger and stubbornness, determination.

"What's going on?" he asked in a slightly hoarse voice.

You lifted your chin slightly. "What does this look like?" you asked as well, quickly approaching the bed and throwing your things into the suitcase. With a graceful movement you closed it "I'm leaving. It's over."

A cold shiver ran down his spine. He took a few more steps and put his hands on his hips watching you struggle with the latches.

"Come on..." Frankie began "It's late. Let's talk about this."

You didn't react. Something inside him boiled and he grabbed the handle of the suitcase, dragging it across the bed towards him.

"Leave it!" you hissed, catching it and holding it "I'm not joking, Frankie! I'm leaving! I've had enough!"

"What this time?" he replied a little too loudly "You're making a scene!"

Before the words left his mouth he already knew he had overdone it. Your eyes widened in a second.

You reached into your pants pocket and after a moment you threw something at him. The small bag bounced off his broad chest and fell silently to the carpet. He recognized it immediately.

"I found it in the car. You must have dropped it last time." you growled.

"It's not like that..."

"Bullshit!" Tears welled up in your eyes. "I've been hearing the same lies for months! I know exactly why you got fired! I wanted to help you, and you promised me you'd never... Ohhh!"

You grabbed the handle of your suitcase and pulled it to the ground, then headed for the door. You pushed past him without letting him grab your arm. Frankie had taken you to the edge. You'd been together for almost two years, and you really loved him. But his addiction was becoming more important than you. You asked, you wanted to help.

The therapist you found for him told you that Frankie had only been to see him three times before he stopped showing up at all. He told you that he went there regularly. Then there were the problems at work and he got fired, he started coming home later and later, and when you were looking for something that had fallen on the floor of your car and you found that damn bag - you already knew.

Your heart was breaking with every step, but you knew that Frankie needed shock therapy. You knew you couldn't...

"Frankie!"

You almost reached the door when you suddenly lost ground under your feet. Strong arms wrapped around your waist and Frankie lifted you up. You started kicking your legs.

"Let me go!" you screamed.

"You're not going anywhere! You can't!" he thundered, putting you down and turning to face him "You have to listen to me, it's not like that..."

"Shut up! You've been lying all this time! All this time!"

"Not when I said I loved you, hermosa."

"Oh! Cut this shit! This isn't love!" your face was full of rage, you wanted to hurt him, to stick a needle in him so hard that it would hurt him for a long time "You just needed someone to clean up the mess after you! Someone to pat you on the head and let you do all this! You needed a pussy you could fuck!"

There was silence. Frankie's hands were gripping your shoulders tightly, his eyes darkened.

"You know that's not true." he finally said.

"Yeah? And what of what you're saying is true? Nothing. Zero. I wanted to help you, but you don't care at all." you jerked away "Let me go, Frankie."

"You have to listen to me..."

"Let me go! Now!"

His fingers loosened and you slipped out of his hands. You grabbed your suitcase again and this time you reached the door.

"I love you." his resigned voice reached your ears.

"I'm not so sure about that anymore."

You took a sip of beer while listening to Frankie. He seemed excited about his new job, and the energy that flowed from him was simply positive. His hand would occasionally brush your arm or wrist as you both burst out laughing, his eyes looking at you with the tenderness you knew from the beginning of your acquaintance.

"I guess I'll have to go back now." You sighed, glancing at your phone. "I have classes tomorrow."

"Do you like it?" he asked, watching you text your friend back, informing her that you had to leave.

"What do you mean?" you looked up at him. Frankie shrugged.

"Your life. Now. Because it seems to me that you're different. More fulfilled? Happier?"

"I don't know, I haven't thought about it to be honest."

He nodded, his hand shyly finding yours. "Can I give you a lift home?"

You agreed. Maybe you shouldn't have, maybe it was a mistake. But Frankie had somehow found his way to your heart, and you didn't want to part ways with him yet.

"When you left..." he began as you drove through the empty streets towards your apartment "It hit me. Really hard."

You clenched your fingers, but you couldn't look in his direction. But Frankie clearly wanted to talk, maybe he had been waiting for this for a really long time and could finally get it all off his chest.

"I drank for three days. I don't remember much from that period. Santi showed up at my place and... He told me something I'll never forget."

You could barely recognize your own voice. "What did he say?"

Frankie cleared his throat. "He said it was all my fault. That I was dragging you down, and you were trying to keep us both afloat the whole time. He also said that if I wanted you back, that if I loved you at all, I should do something about it."

Something tightened your throat and your eyes stung from the tears that were seeping into your eyelids. The car turned, you were already close to your apartment.

"I went to therapy. Santi took me there twice a week. It was a terrible time. He had to take my phone because I wanted to call you every day. I don't know how I managed to get through it without you."

"But you did it." You dared to look at him, a weak smile appeared on his face. "I'm so proud of you, Frankie."

"Thank you."

The car stopped. Your journey ended, and you got out, feeling like your legs were almost giving out under you. You whispered a quiet "thank you" and "I'm glad I saw you, Frankie." and then feeling like your heart almost jumped out of your chest, you headed for the door.

"I still love you."

You closed your eyes. His voice was clear, determined. You stopped, feeling like you could fall apart at any moment.

"Frankie..." you whispered, but he wouldn't let you do more.

He was right behind you now, you could feel the heat radiating from him. Your body reacted to his closeness.

"I knew you'd be at this pub today."

You turned around and looked at him, surprised. Frankie seemed embarrassed, but he continued.

"I met Sarah a while ago. We talked..."

He noticed a small frown between your eyebrows, "She didn't tell me anything..."

Frankie shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged, "I begged her not to tell you. Listen, all this year you were the only thing that kept me alive. I wanted to be clean again, but I also wanted to be able to look you in the eye again. I'm sorry, hermosa... I'm sorry you went through all that with me. It was hell, and you tried so hard to save me."

You couldn't stop the tears that began to flow down your cheeks. You didn't even react when a warm hand touched your cheek and he wiped the tears away with his thumb.

"I still love you, hermosa." Frankie continued. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop. But I know I can't expect that from you, not after what I did."

"You hurt me, Frankie..." you sobbed, you saw the pain in his eyes, the same pain you still felt in your heart. "I wanted to save you, I wanted to save us... Maybe I wasn't strong enough?"

"No, it's not like that!" he shook his head, taking your face in both hands. "It wasn't a job for just one person. I understand that now. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I let you down so much."

You instinctively snuggled into his chest. Damn, you missed him so much this year. Almost every day you wondered what was happening to him, or you thought back to the times when everything was fine. There were days when you hated Frankie, when you resented yourself for always having him in your heart. But now you understood - you had to fall apart to understand what was truly important to you.

Frankie stroked your back, repeating silent apologies, and you felt as if all the tension that you had in your body was slowly leaving you.

"You okay?" he asked when you finally pulled away from him, wiping the last tears with your hand and probably completely smudging your mascara.

You nodded, "Yeah. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

"Don't apologize, hermosa. You have nothing to apologize for."

There was silence for a moment. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, rather one where you were both trying to gather your thoughts. Finally, you were the first to speak.

"I'm so glad you managed to do all this. I'm really proud of you, Frankie. Now... Now your life will be different, better."

"You think so?" he asked, and you looked at him surprised. "I guess you didn't hear what I said earlier. I love you, and I don't know if I'll ever stop. But I know I can't force you to do anything. You listened to me, that's already a lot. Maybe that's all I deserve."

He must have already accepted it, except that he lost you, because before you could answer anything, he slowly moved towards his car. You watched him, feeling your heart pounding in your chest like crazy. You weren't even aware that you had opened your mouth, only the sound of your voice that cut through the silence brought you back to your senses.

"I'm finishing classes tomorrow after three. If you want to go for coffee, or..."

In an instant Frankie turned around "How about for lunch? You'll definitely be hungry, and you said you haven't been eating very well lately."

You smiled and nodded. "Lunch sounds good."

"Wonderful." He smiled too. That damn smile of his.

"So... Are we in touch?"

"Of course, hermosa."

With a slightly calmer heart you disappeared into the building, feeling that the smile didn't leave your face.

Maybe a second chance really did exist? Maybe you too had a chance for a new beginning...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#pedro pascal #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader

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fou4summer · 2 days ago

Text

New Student

yoo jaeyi × fem!reader

Synopsis: First day in your new school. You just wanted to blend in and get through the year unnoticed. But Yoo Jaeyi, the school's top student with an icy reputation, seems to have other plans.

Warnings: drugs, bullying, i don't think there is any beside those.

Genre: Fluff

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You were determined to keep a low profile at your new school. The last thing you wanted was to attract too much attention. As a new student, your focus was getting through the day without any drama, and just getting used to your new environment and classmates. They were actually pretty decent, not everyone of course. On that day you went in the uniform of the previous school cause you didn't know where to get the new one. Guess they found it too funny. Especially one girl, Na-ri. Or atleast you think that was her name. She was getting on your nerves, cause after you got the uniform from some random seller online she ruined it by pouring a drink on it "by accident". You went to the bathroom to wash off the red stain on your uniform and you bumped into the person you never wanted to talk to, Yoo Jaeyi.

She seemed like a problem. It was obvious she was rich and spoiled. But you didn't know why she asked you to sit with her on your first day or why she helped you escape the principal the other day. She was suspicious and you just wanted to avoid talking or even being near her. After bumping into her she apologized, bowing slightly towards you. You looked at her confused but you said that its fine and walked past her. She turned around to look at you while smiling.

You were now cleaning the ruined uniform when someone hugged you from behind. "You fit perfectly in my arms." The person behind you in a calm voice. You knew who it was so you jerked away. As you turned around, Yoo Jaeyi was standing there eyes wide cause you pushed her away. She was holding a white shirt that goes under the dark green uniform. "So...we're about the same size. I always keep a few extra shirts in my locker in case I get them dirty, which I can't stand." She chuckles in the end before handing you the shirt

"Thank you, but I don't need it." You said continuing to wash your clothes in the sink. Yoo Jaeyi went quiet for a bit, and then she sighed. "You can't wear wet and dirty clothes, come on wear thi-" She was cut off by you turning around and throwing the shirt she gave you. "Listen Jaeyi, I'm not like you. Not rich, and not gonna wear those. Even if my clothes are ruined I will still wear them. Do you not understand when I tell you that I don't need it, why do you keep insisting? Not everyone appreciates your kindness." You raised your voice at her as she remained quiet but shocked by your sudden change. Then her face went to her cold state again as she looked directly at you.

"Alright. Do as you wish." Jaeyi looked away from you walking towards the exit. At the same time she threw the shirt away. The moment she walked away you felt bad. Really bad. Cause she was the only person who actually talked to you normally without teasings and laughs about your uniform, or your past. You let out the breath you didn't even know you were holding before getting dressed. As you stepped into the classroom everyone's eyes were on you and your see through shirt. You sat in your seat before opening the book.

"I think I feel bed for Y/N, Na-ri went too far." Choi said while walking home with Jaeyi and Yeri. They were all super rich but they never found bullying interesting like other classmates. "Wait Na-ri did that to her?" Jaeyi shot back with a serious tone. Yeri chuckled looking over at Choi who just nodded. "Did you guys know she's on drugs?" She then added while fixing her makeup. Choi looked over before looking back at the other girl. "Who in our class isn't, come on." Jaeyi stated before calling her dad. Not so long after three girls parted their ways.

Over the next few days you felt like someone was always watching you, but whenever you turned around there was no one. Actually what you didn't know it was always the same person, Yoo Jaeyi. She followed you everywhere. One day she was with one of the classmates having dinner. She told her that Na-ri had bought drugs from her and she can use it against her, so she did. When Na-ri was just minding her business in the girls toilet someone pulled her hair. She yelled but she instantly apologized when she saw who it was. Jaeyi smirked before zooming in the camera. "Do you want the whole school to know our Na-ri is on drugs, hm?" She told her while laughing. The other girl got on her knees and begged her to delete the video. "Na-ri! Who told you to touch what's mine?" Jaeyi whispered after ending the recording on her phone.

Next couple of days Na-ri didn't come to school and everyone got confused until our homeroom teacher told us she transferred schools. You were smart but you would never guess that Yoo Jaeyi did it. I mean why would she? She probably transfered cause of family problems or something like that. Until you got told what actually happened. Choi never really talked to you unless it was something about school meetings or studies but now she was telling you why the girl actually moved to another school. "It was Jaeyi, she made her do it." She told you while scrolling through her gallery to find the video she got sent. After handing you the phone you were terrified. Why would she be so obsessed with you? What are you to her to do somrthing like this for you?

"I gotta go, I'll see you tommorow. Thank you for telling me the thruth." She looked at you confused but waved a goodbye, then you ran home. This can't distract you from studying. So you took the pills you stole and swallowed them with a glass of water. You studied the whole day, until you actually felt hungry. You didn't feel like making something, so you went to the closest convenience store. On your way there you were thinking about everything and how it was draining you slowly. You were just sitting at the bench, lost in your thoughts. You didn't even feel the rain start, but someone else did. That someone was now standing in front of you with an umbrella. When you looked up you saw her.

"Jaeyi..." She smiled before helping you get up. You were just staring at each other until she finally spoke. "You will get sick like this, how about you come over so I can give you some dry clothes." She was speaking just above her average tone because of the hard rain. "No I'm fine, my house is not far away." You lied, and she knew that. "It is far awa- I meant my house is closer, yeah." She cleared her throat and you wondered how does she know you lied about it? In the end you were too tired to argue and you remebered that you have to confront her about Na-ri so you went with her.

Her house was huge, like a mansion. When you entered her room her dog barked, making you flinch. She laughed and started playing with him. You calmed down and ran your fingers through his white fur. Her room was also huge and she had skateboards on her wall. Didn't know she was into that, you thought. After her dog got tired of playing you guys sat on her bed. "Why were you alone there...?" She asked looking into your eyes. Your thoughts came back, thinking about everything at once. She placed her hand over yours and you quickly pulled away. She came closer and took both of your hands in hers. "I'm sorry Y/N. I know you are mad at me about Na-ri, but I did it because she bullied you. Isn't that nice? Shouldn't you thank me?" She now caressed your hair, and worst of all you didn't mind it.

"I don't care what you do, just don't pull me into your shit." You sighed before standing up, getting ready to go home. You were getting too comfortable with her. You had to leave before she notices your red cheeks. "Y/N, your phone is dead and it's late. Why don't you spend the night and you can go in the morning?" She asked holding your wrist. You turned around looking down at her. Maybe here you can figure out why was she so obsessed with you. So you stayed. But it didn't really go like you planned...

Cause now you were in her bathtub waiting for her. Then she came in with a black bathrobe. She took it off staring at you and you covered your eyes. She chuckled before stepping in the bath. You stared at each other for a few seconds which felt like hours but then she came closer. "Y/N why are you flustered?" She asked you before placing her hand on your cheek. You could just shake your head as a no but she didn't take that as an answer. "Have you ever tried this?" She asked and you looked at her confused. "Tried w-what?" Your heart was beating so loud that you bet she hears it. "This..." She brushed her finger against your lips before leaning in, inches away from your lips. "And this..." She looked you in the eyes for the last time for any signs of discomfort. But there wasn't any. So she closed the distance inbetween. The kiss was slow and sweet, but Jaeyi turned it into a messy make out. She was kissing your neck and leaving marks after sucking the spot for too long. It felt too good, and you never wanted to stop. When her hands went down your chest and stomach tou grabbed her wrist. "Jaeyi...let's go to bed..." You mumbled against her ear. You wanted her just as much as she wanted you, but you couldn't let yourself have your first time, when you didn't even know her too well. She nodded not arguing but you could see on her face that she wanted to continue.

After getting dressed you two went to bed. You were staring at each other, your faces close. "I want to love you and not just watch you from afar..." She whispered before kissing your lips again. You were shocked by the sudden words but you kissed her back. The kiss didn't last long cause you were both tired. Eventually you both fell asleep but you couldn't stop thinking about what she said. Your plan did fail but maybe, just maybe this was way better. You in her arms knowing that she will protect you from anyone who doesn't like you.

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A/N: Hey guys! This is my first ever post on here, so if anything is bad or I should fix something please let me know:) Also you guys can request me who do you want me to write for next from Friendly Rivalry or maybe other kdramas.

#friendly rivalry #yoo jaeyi #kdrama #wlw #fem reader #lee hyeri #yoo jaeyi fic

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 3 days ago

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𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞-𝐭𝐨-𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏)

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Gilbert had been acting strangely lately.

Gilbert: "Little bunny, is there anything you want me to do for you?"

Emma: "Again?"

When I arrived at our usual spot with freshly brewed tea and pastries, he set his work aside, greeted me with a charming smile, and insisted.

Gilbert: "I want you to rely on me more."

Emma: "I've relied on you plenty already."

(Just yesterday, for example.)

------------Flashback-----------

Gilbert: "There, I finished drying your hair."

Emma: "Thanks. That felt really nice."

Gilbert: "I'm glad to hear that. So, what would you like me to do next?"

Emma: "N-Nothing, really—"

Gilbert: "What would you like me to do next?"

Emma: "T-Then maybe a shoulder massage?"

Gilbert: "Oh, good idea. You're probably the only person who could tell me to do that."

Emma: "Actually, never mind—"

Gilbert: "Nope. No need to hold back with me."

Gilbert: "If it's for you, I'd gladly do anything—no matter how selfish the request is."

---------Flashback Ends--------

(Lately, he's been overly sweet to me.)

(He's not usually like this, though.)

Gilbert: "Hey, won't you rely on me?"

Emma: "I feel completely content right now."

Gilbert: "Emma, did you forget?"

Gilbert: "You only have two choices: either listen to my request or be forced to."

(So I have to say something, no matter what?)

I set the tea and pastries down on the table and gazed into his crimson eyes, trying to read his true intentions.

Emma: "Did something happen?"

Gilbert: "Right now? Nothing at all."

('Right now'?)

Gilbert: "Hehe, come on, keep thinking. Until you ask me for something, I won't let you leave—cough!"

Emma: "Gil!?"

He suddenly started coughing, so I quickly placed a hand on his back and gently rubbed it.

Gilbert: "Hey now, aren't you overreacting?"

Emma: "Of course, I'm overreacting! I still haven't forgiven you for disappearing on me for days."

Not long ago, Gilbert had suddenly vanished from the castle.

I figured he must have caught a cold and hid so he wouldn't spread it to me, but I'd been beside myself with worry.

Whenever he was suffering, he always kept it to himself, refusing to share the burden with anyone.

That was the kind of cruel yet kind person he was.

(Maybe this whole situation is his way of making up for that.)

(I don't know the real reason behind all this, but I do have one thing I want to ask.)

Emma: "Gil."

Gilbert: "If you're about to ask me to stay by your side forever, that's a no."

Emma: "There's something I'd like to ask you."

Emma: "Is there a way to keep someone who occasionally disappears without a trace by my side?"

Gilbert: "Fufu, of course, there's a way. But before I tell you, how about you show me your method first?"

(That was… surprisingly easy.)

Gilbert ran his fingers through my hair, gently tugging—not enough to hurt, but enough to bring our faces closer.

His striking red eyes locked onto mine, silently urging me to act.

(My method, huh?)

Emma: "Please, don't go anywhere."

The moment I made my plea, looking straight into his eyes, he bit down lightly on my lip.

Gilbert: "That won't do at all. The moment you start begging, it means you're not really trying to make me listen."

Emma: "I just couldn't think of another way."

Gilbert: "That's because you're kind. But remember, the person you're dealing with is a villain."

Gilbert: "If you really want to tie down a villain, you don't beg—you control."

Gilbert: "If you and the villain want totally different things, why let him decide?"

(He has a point, but isn't forcing him to stay too selfish?)

(Asking him to rely on me is just my own selfishness in the end.)

At my silence, he let go of my hair.

Gilbert: "There are many ways to bend someone's will."

Gilbert: "But the methods preferred by a beast like me wouldn't suit someone as gentle as you."

Gilbert: "So, I'll teach you the simplest way—the one that won't weigh on your conscience."

Before I could react, he suddenly stood up, grabbed my wrist, and pinned me down against the table.

(Huh?)

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few papers covered in his handwriting flutter through the air.

But before I could pay them any mind, my vision was completely overtaken by his handsome face.

His lips captured mine, again and again, teasing, coaxing, drawing out a heat I hadn't intended to surrender.

(What the hell is happening?)

Dazed, I instinctively accepted his kiss, only for his tongue to invade, thoroughly claiming every inch of my mouth.

Gilbert: "Make sure you never do this with anyone else, okay?"

Gilbert: "I'd hate to stain you with someone else's blood."

His crimson eyes gleamed with something dark and possessive as he slowly ran his tongue over his wet lips.

Then, without warning, he hooked his hands under my legs and lifted them—leaving me utterly defenseless.

Part 1 ╎ Part 2 ╎ Part 3 ╎ Part 4

#ikemen prince #ikepri jp #ikepri #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian

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diushek · 2 days ago

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Shen Qingqiu is poisoned with those sex pollen again- and about a month and a half later, Shen Qingqiu has morning sickness.

Thanks to Mu Qingfang its confirmed: he will really have his husband's child! Oh shit, oh shit- Well, it's not that they were actively trying to have children, but after more than five years of marriage, these things happen, don't they? The natural order of things? Get married, settle down, have babies?

The idea not bad, really, and Shen Qingqiu's terror fades away in the face of his husband's adoration. Everything is okay. Everything will be okay.

... when Shen Qingqiu is two months pregnant, one morning he finds his husband, the Emperor, the Heavenly Demon, weak and nauseous from the smell of his own cooking. Shen Qingqiu comforts him, drags him to rest and finishes making some congee himself. He have read a lot about couples sharing pregnancy symptoms for some reason, so it's not abnormal. Also he's not such a disastrous cook now!

However, Luo Binghe genuinely still looks pale and sick with that smell. Shen Qingqiu dismisses breakfast, he is not that hungry after all. His husband cries a little in his arms with its thick crocodile tears and they both sleep off the morning.

The problem is that Luo Binghe's symptoms continue. He can hardly tolerate strong scents, and is even worse than Shen Qingqiu. He cannot tolerate scents from many foods, hair oils, or perfume. Even scented soaps are too much for his nose. Worried, Shen Qingqiu decides that they should go see Mu Qingfang, whether it is something of mirror symptoms or Luo Binghe feeling all the symptoms stronger than Shen Qingqiu for some reason.

The reason is that Luo Binghe is also pregnant.

Shen Qingqiu falls silent, almost as stunned as Luo Binghe. He had... Well, sex pollen had been a crazy thing! Whatever had happened that night had been crazy too! Shen Qingqiu had practically forgotten that part… How could it be such a fertile thing?!

Well, actually, it shouldn't be that bad. Shen Qingqiu is coping well with his first few months. His husband unfortunately seems to be the one suffering from terrible symptoms. Shen Qingqiu just hopes that don't last too long.

Soon, he realizes: well, being pregnant is unstable, having a husband who is also pregnant? It's a fucking nightmare. Shen Qingqiu loves and adores his husband, but he has never seen him cry so much, squirm so much, or be so sensitive to anything foreign or external. He can hardly leave his side. And Luo Binghe wants to continue being and doing everything - not being able to cook for his husband practically devastates him, and not being able to eat anything his husband cooks is almost worse.

And they are just entering their third month.

Shen Qingqiu knows it can only get better (no sarcasm) once they get through the first trimester. No very bad symptoms, just some hormones and little baby bumps growing. Shen Qingqiu finds it endearing and adorable. He really wants that to happen.

... his husband hasn't even finished with the unpleasant symptoms when he starts having cravings. Strange and chaotic cravings that Luo Binghe cannot explain and Shen Qingqiu recognizes as demonic foods forgotten by god and man.

God forbid. Shen Qingqiu will strangle Shang Qinghua for inventing those damn fertile fucking flowers. Or he'll get him to move that limp ass of a fourth-rate writer to bring a demonic feast to his pregnant husband. Whichever comes first.

#svsss #scum villain's self saving system #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #svsss au #svsss ideas #mxtx svsss #bingqiu #mpreg #sex pollen #again #mpreg x2 #I'm sorry Binghe #I promise that your symptoms will improve later.#I can't say the same about Shen Qingqiu #Shang Qinghua is always blamed for everything #but he deserves it this time

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goquokka00 · 10 hours ago

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SKZ vs. Shark Week (Felix ver.)

How would each member of Stray Kids handle you while you're on your period?

WARNING: This is a female reader going through their period. If the topic of a period/anything that has to do with a period makes you uncomfortable, then don't read it. Just remember that there's nothing wrong with a woman's period. It's a perfectly healthy body function :)

THE MOODS It was very safe to say that you were an absolute wreck. Not necessarily because you were all over the place emotionally, but because you were just extremely sensitive. One tiny little compliment that Felix gave you would make you cry. One little critique would make you cry. The cute puppy that lived across the hall? It made you cry.

And so, Felix made an effort to always be with you. Any time you started crying, he'd instantly scoop you into his arms and coo to you, babying you with everything he had. While he was usually your baby, when you got emotional like this, you were his. And he'd do everything in his power to make you feel all better.

You want kisses? He's gonna douse you in them. You want to be held? Great! Felix won't let you go. You want him close? Felix will melt into you, nuzzle your cheek with his, and squeeze you until you feel better. You don't want any of that? Too bad. He'll do it anyway.

THE BLOOD You actually don't bleed that much. Your flow is really light, but it lasts a long, long time. And Felix couldn't be more thankful. Why? Because he could still get his cuddles while you bled and lay with you. What more, you were willing to go out and do things with him.

You didn't feel gross because you didn't have a swimming pool of blood in your pants, hell, you didn't have to double up on products, either. You could easily get away with just using panty liners most of the time. Simple as that. And Felix couldn't be more grateful that his girl was somewhat functional.

THE PAIN While your period was nice to you in the blood regard, it was NOT nice to you during the other symptoms that occurred. There wasn't necessarily pain, but you did tend to stay up way later. Why? Because you sweated like a mad man during the night. You'd get hot, then you'd get grumpy, and then you'd just want to sprawl and not be anywhere near Felix.

And while Felix was a bit upset by that, and wanted to cuddle like you both normally did, he also understood that you were just uncomfortable with sleeping in the same bed. He would be too if he was creating a new ocean made entirely of sweat where he was laying.

And so, he would go and sleep in the dorms at night, only to come right back the next day to be with you in case you needed anything.

THE PRODUCT Because Felix has two sisters, I feel like he'd be pretty comfortable with the sight of period products. He knew the ins and outs of it really well, and so he was more than happy to help out where he could. The one thing he was a bit hesitant on was going and getting the products for you.

It wasn't that he didn't want to because it was weird or embarrassing, no no no. He just really didn't want to slip up and get the wrong ones. Even if you were to write down exactly what you need and send a picture to him, he'd still be nervous that it wasn't the right ones, and that he failed you (even though he's incapable of failing anyone).

And when it comes to the waste, Felix just...doesn't want to look. He doesn't like the sight of blood in any shape or form, and so if he does accidentally see it, he'll just come to you and hesitantly ask you if next time, you could possibly cover the blood a bit more so he doesn't have to see it. And you do it, because he's too precious to argue with.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @miss-daisy04 @kayleefriedchicken @wolfs-archive @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @wolfs-howling @rose-w-00-d @skzlover24

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trappezoider · 2 days ago

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Hi! You were the first Hogwarts Legacy fan artist I came across and I wanted to say how much I love your works 🥰

I recently saw an ask about which program you use to create your pieces which got me wondering... 👀 do you have any tips to share with aspiring digital artists trying to learn how to properly add shading/lighting?? I'm happy with my pieces during the flat colour stage, but every time I attempt shading/lighting or other methods of adding texture/definition/perspective, it always looks "off" to me 🤔 so my WIP folder is huge rn.

Thank you in advance for any advice you're willing to share 🙏😊

Hiya there!! Thank you so much for this ask!! First of all, I gotta say how wonderful it is that you're excited about art and want to learn more about it. I just had a chat with a friend about this but I think art is such a fun, vast hobby, full of endless possibilities, and whenever people want to get into it and learn, it's just wahhhhh. Fills my heart with joy and makes me bounce :D Now, full disclaimer, I am not an art teacher so my say on the matter is not that of a professional. I struggle with these things myself as well but I'm really happy if any of my advice can help a fellow artist. Keep in mind that works for me might not work for you, and "good art" is highly subjective. But I understand that achieving that fine balance between knowing how to imitate life and then being able to recreate that imagine in your head on an empty canvas is something a lot of artists want. That's hard af though. But you can't have success without failure, that's why we have so many WIPS xD Lucky for us, our brains and hands are amazing at learning. Eventually those WIPS might become actual realised works. Crying, praying and manifesting for us both xDDD Now, if you're struggling with shading and lighting, I suggest doing value studies. Perhaps take black and white photos with a striking relationship between shadow and light, then try to replicate that without colour picking. Try to observe the whole picture, without paying too much attention to the details at first, Make your brush strokes large especially when sketching out the initial shapes. You can give yourself a time limit of say, 5-60 minutes, for each study, but I wouldn't go over a 1,5h hour limit. I recommend using fairly simple images, with less textures and where shapes are the main character so to speak. Then when you think you're ready, you can do the same thing but this time choose coloured images but still use only white/black. Excercises like these help me a ton when I feel like I wanna update my skills. Doing art is a never-ending learning curve but I feel like that's what makes it so stimulating hehe Below is an example of one value study I did recently. I don't do these often but I know I probably should xD I always just do colour studies nowdays cause that's something I'm most interested in observing at the moment :D But this is just an example of what you can do if you want to learn shading in particular. Now it doesn't need to be perfect, it's just practice that may help you get used to values and how they interact with each other on the canvas.

You can also do colour studies if that is something you're interested in. Those might be a bit more challenging but as long as you keep each study short and use simple images (like literally just an image of an egg on a table or something xD), it shouldn't be too intimidating. Sorry for such a long reply xD I hope you have lots of fun and get all the possible enjoyment from making art! So happy for you!!! Wishing you all the motivation, success and inspiration in the world!!!

#art #ask #advice

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peachsayshi · 12 hours ago

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I’ve reread The King multiple times already because it’s so so sweet and captivating and I’m so in love with this fictional couple 🥹 How long does it take for them to get married? I can see sukuna buying a ring like a month into their official relationship and not wanting to wait a second longer

(minors / ageless / blank blogs dni)

hi, nonnie! I would love to answer this question! I think it's so cute how many comments/asks I got about these two and when they might get married! thank you so much for reading this work! I am really proud of this fic (personally, it's one of my favorites that I have ever written) and I was originally very worried that sukuna was ooc, but it makes me so happy to see that you all enjoyed this story! I am very much in love with them as a pair and writing out the progression of their storyline was so fulfilling! xo I am so happy you all felt the same way too.

shortly after he retired, you and sukuna chose to move into together. he bought a house in a rural part of the country, surrounded by lots of green and some much needed quiet. sukuna didn't even hesitate on the decision, especially after the news of you both being together finally broke out to the public.

for you both, moving in felt like a real step. the two of you didn't need boundaries to understand one another in a relationship, because you've always been tangled in the other person's life. moving in together just gave you the luxury of exploring your intimate sides with more freedom.

and it progressed so naturally. so...seamlessly. like you were always lovers who were just waiting for this very moment.

about seven months into your relationship is when it happened.

you were getting ready for bed, standing in front of the bathroom mirror and applying your skincare. sukuna approaches the bathroom door, raising his hand overhead as he used it to lean against the frame.

he took up the entire space with his large stature.

you smiled at him from the mirror, "you're back. how's uruame?"

"good," he answers calmly, looking at you (and only ever you) with such soft eyes it makes you want to melt into a puddle on the bathroom tile.

"that's good," you answer, as you pick up your lip mask and slowly dab the sticky, silky balm on your bottom lip. "I wasn't sure what time you were getting in. I was a little sleepy waiting on the couch-"

sukuna's face remains firm, his attention on your mouth which makes him subconsciously bite his own.

your cheeks warm when you notice the reaction.

he just has the ability to make butterflies swarm in your belly without even trying.

"what?" you question a little shyly, though you aren't sure why.

sukuna steps into the bathroom, his hands find your waist, and deliberately slips underneath your pajama top so he can touch your skin. he bends down to kiss the top of your head.

"I have a question," he states.

"which is?"

"when am I allowed to actually propose to you? and I am not talking about the stupid game we used to play when we were kids..."

it catches you so off guard, you drop the pot of your lip mask along with the cap into the sink. the shock makes sukuna huff out a laugh, but all he does is squeeze your side and tuck you into him, pressing your back firmly against his front.

"propose?" you repeat, like the word is foreign. you reach into the sink, to grab your lip pot and the cap, your fingers shaking as you try to screw on the top before placing it gently on the counter.

"yes, propose. as in marriage..."

you suddenly spin on your heel to face him. sukuna actually has to cock his body back a little to ensure you don't slam your forehead into his chest.

"marriage?! but...but we only just started dating...we've only been together for a short period of time..." you ramble, your mind short circuiting at the thought.

your heart hammers so hard in your chest, but all sukuna does is reach for your hips and pick you up. he perches you onto the bathroom counter, then finds your wrists which he brings to circle around his neck.

"we have not been together for a short period of time," he clarifies as he leans down to kiss your parted lips.

you invite him eagerly, because you love kissing him. because it's your favorite thing to do. his statement lingers on his tongue, and it makes your heart and chest expand as he deepens the kiss further.

he snags your bottom lip between his teeth, tasting the berry flavored mask that you just put on. "now that's all cleared up, let's go back to my question..."

" 'kuna," you sigh.

"listen, I'm being a "gentleman" by even asking, princess. if I had it my way, I was putting a ring on your finger the second you let me stick my dick inside you..."

you grip his shirt, and tug at the fabric. "must you be so vulgar?" you say with a sarcastic pout.

"answer my question," he replies sternly, though the tone contrasts the gentle touch of his hand caressing your lower back.

you gulp down your nerves, "I-I don't know, whenever you would like to propose, I guess?"

he arches one brow suspiciously. "and you would say yes?"

that makes you your nostrils flare in offense.

your face grows even hotter.

"of course, I'd say yes!"

he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, the smug bastard. acting like what he was saying isn't even a big deal at all.

he leans forward to kiss you once more, "I'm just making sure..."

your body whirred with anticipation that night, and when you both made love later on, it somehow felt even more intimate than usual.

like your bodies were answering an age old question that it already knew.

six weeks later, he popped the question again just as you were both getting ready to go visit his step-brothers. after you finished getting dressed, sukuna pointed out that you forgot something, and when you asked him what it was, he responded by standing in front of you and slipping the ring on your finger casually.

your eyes were glossy with tears, your attention on your hand that was now anointed with a sparkling diamond.

you sniffle as you stare at him with affectionate disapproval, "you know, men usually get on their knees for this part, right?"

""I get on my knees for other reasons, sweetheart..." sukuna chuckles, capturing your wrist and placing a kiss on the inside. "and I'm not treating this like a song a dance the way your shitty ex did. this is a matter of fact. a long time coming. and besides, you already told me you were saying yes..."

you shake your head at him, but your heart feels so full. even now, despite how nonchalantly he placed the ring on your finger, you feel like you're walking on clouds. your bring your hands to his jaw as you lower him towards your lips. "I love you," you sigh, "I love you so much I don't even think saying it is enough..."

sukuna returns the kiss, one hand sliding behind the back of your neck. he traces his lips along your jaw and down the column, before dragging it back up to your ear. he holds you so close, keeps you there to murmur his adoration over you. to profess his deep love for you in return. "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me..." he whispers deeply, meaningfully, his voice ever so rich and smooth. "I love you too."

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fluff #fic: the king #inbox.💌

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bears-sillybasement · 3 days ago

Note

How do Bear and Lyney Meet?

How do they get together?

Do they have any pet names for each other?

OHHH MY TIME HAS COME..(thanks now I'm going to use you to throw out a lot of stupid info..AND WITH SILLY PICTURES. because, uh I like to draw)

this..looks like it's going to be longer than I planned..oopsuwu

can't guarantee that I've written everything correctly...my english is a nightmare.

ACTUALLY (🤓☝🏻), both of them met a few months after Bernadette arrived at Fontaine, however they did not speak to each other.

The two began to cross paths frequently, especially since some children related to Lyney started going to listen to Bernadette's stories. (he's a storyteller)

Lyney was the one who started talking to him, small dialogues and exchanges of words every time he went to pick up the children in his care,, sometimes he just stayed to listen the stories from afar.

Despite Lyney's personality and casual attempts to maintain some sort of bond, it actually took quite a while for Bernadette to begin to reciprocate in any way.

Though his personality seems intense, he has never been a very open person and prefers to avoid unnecessary stuff, like anything that makes him feel too observed...naturally trying to cut the conversations and leave.

Still, Lyney was NEVER pushy about anything in particular, letting things go at their pace. slowly the greetings turned into small talk, then long conversations. then outings together, a little help here and there...and they became friends.

HOW THEY ENDED UP TOGETHER IS A COMPLICATED STORY.

Lyney for his part was very open with his feelings, but at the same time he kept a lot of his personal life secret, afraid of harming him. and Bernadette simply denied feeling anything at all. He's not good at processing intense emotions, so not having anyone to talk about it just isolated him.

Oh, and of course, the

"why should I tell you anything about MY life if YOU won't?"

delayed things a little..

The moment that felt like a confession was in a late night conversation they had in secret. It wasn't formal. In fact, the subject wasn't even broached. But it was intimate enough to create a great silence.

(I'm not going to say what it was because in my head I have a whole comic for that OKAAAY??)

Still, after that there was a formal confession, but it was only as a final confirmation.

(the conversation was started by Lyney, the formal confession was made by Bernadette.) (technically my bear did the easy thing) (He already took it for granted so) (yeah)

After they started dating, the first week was funny to watch..Bernadette was as petrified as a scared goat. (If you don't know how goats look when they get scared, I swear it's funny)

He's not the type of person who reacts extremely SWEET to displays of affection, at least not in a conventional way (he will probably show his affection by making you fall straight to the ground every time you try to walk)

So,, the first few days he looked like a shy kid with his first girlfriend in kindergarten.

That mood didn't last long (though unlike Lyney, Bernadette is much more cheesy in private....Lyney seems to forget when he's in a public space)

(this was just an excuse to draw bro being the cuddly one) (leave me alone)

OH AND THE PETNAMES.........

Lyney seems to have a shotgun full of those, Bernadette responds more to the word sweetheart than to his own name at this point..All the cheesy shit that comes to your mind, whatever you think Lyney probably said it.

and Bernadette..sometimes uses petnames, BUT he has the habit of just calling him Lyney in a softer tone. he loves his name and thinks it sounds cute enough.

(also calls him honey) (haha its fun, because) (he's a bear) (haha) (haha guys why arent you laughing)

and following on from what I said, this also took him quite a few weeks to do it naturally..Lyney can still VIVIDLY remember his boyfriend of 2 weeks staring at him, in silence, after 4 long minutes of preparation to say something like "hey love" and ending up being a "hey dude"

I'm sorry to whoever is reading this, I got carried away LOL

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jungkoode · 12 hours ago

Text

OFF-LABELS | O8

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Mature, 18+, suggestive tones.

→ DATE POSTED: March 3rd, 2025.

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents, virgin!reader.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: Failed attempts at normal Friday nights, tequila-fueled bad decisions, drunk texting that definitely crosses lines, deliberately provoking reactions, pink sets making reappearances, and countdown timers that feel like threats (or promises). | drunk texting, emotional provocation, jealousy, possessive behavior, failed rebounds, tequila courage, late night messages, countdown tension, deliberate misbehavior, text conversations, bar settings, alcohol consumption, purposeful disobedience, revenge flirting, provoked responses.

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 3,6k

→ MINI SERIES: PREVIOUS | NEXT

→ A/N: Sometimes it takes tequila and spite to say what you really mean. This chapter is dedicated to everyone who's ever sent that one text they absolutely shouldn't have (but definitely meant). Also to anyone who's ever tried to move on and realized they're ruined for normal flirting. Special thanks to my friends who had to watch me spiral while writing this - your emotional support and drink recommendations were crucial to this mess.

PLAYLIST

The screen blurs as you stare at his contact—a blank gray circle where his photo used to be. The one of him and Caleb at graduation, both grinning, arms slung around each other's shoulders.

Gone.

Your thumb hovers over the message thread. The last thing he sent stares back at you, clinical and cold:

Hoseok: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢.

Three words.

That's all it took to unravel everything—all the heated glances, the lingering touches, the way he'd made you feel seen and wanted and his.

(Stupid. You were so stupid.)

The phone hits the wall with a satisfying crack. You don't check if the screen's broken. Don't care. Let it shatter like everything else.

Because that's what this is, isn't it? He'd played you perfectly—drawing you in with gentle words and meaningless touches, making you question your own sanity until you were desperate for confirmation. Until you were willing to do anything just to prove you weren't imagining it all.

And now?

Now he's gone.

Like it meant nothing. Like you meant nothing. Just another conquest, another game won, another—

A soft knock interrupts your spiral.

"Y/N?" Caleb's voice filters through the door, concerned but not pushing. "You okay?"

You swallow hard, swiping at your eyes. "Fine."

The door creaks open anyway.

Your brother takes one look at you—curled up in your desk chair, eyes red-rimmed, phone face-down on the floor—and something in his expression shifts.

He doesn't ask. Doesn't pry. Just disappears briefly and returns with two mugs of chamomile tea, the kind mom always makes when either of you is upset.

"Scoot." He nudges you over, settling on the floor beside your chair. "Found that terrible rom-com you like. The one with the talking cats."

A wet laugh escapes before you can stop it. "It's not terrible."

"It's horrific." But he's already pulling up Netflix on his phone, patting the space next to him until you slide down to join him.

The tea is too hot and slightly too sweet—he always adds an extra spoonful of honey—but it warms something frozen in your chest. You lean against his shoulder as the movie starts, breathing in the familiar scent of mom’s laundry detergent and that stupid cologne your aunt always gifts him for Christmas.

He doesn't mention how your shoulders shake slightly. Doesn't comment on the damp spot growing on his sleeve. Just wraps an arm around you and lets you hide your face when the tears come faster.

It's going to be okay.

(It has to be okay.)

Your phone buzzes weakly from its place on the floor. You don't check it.

Some things are better left broken.

You stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to convince yourself this is a good idea.

Kiara had been insistent—persistent—about dragging you out tonight. "You need this," she'd declared, rifling through your closet with terrifying efficiency. "Fresh air. Good music. Hot strangers who aren't emotionally constipated medical residents."

(You hadn't told her about Hoseok. Hadn't told anyone. But somehow she knew—the way best friends always do.)

The dress she picked is shorter than you'd usually wear, black fabric clinging to curves you normally hide under oversized sweaters. Your legs look longer in the heels she forced on you, and the smokey eye makeup makes you look... different. Older.

Less like the nervous med student who stammers through anatomy presentations.

Less like his Chip.

Your throat tightens. You reach for your phone automatically—to check if he's unblocked you, to see if he's noticed your absence, to—

"Don't you dare." Kiara appears in the doorway, looking unfairly gorgeous in a red dress. She snatches your phone, dropping it into her clutch. "No drunk texting allowed."

"I wasn't going to—"

"Sure." She starts fixing your lipstick. "And I'm not planning to get absolutely destroyed on tequila shots."

You manage a weak laugh. "You're buying."

"Obviously." She steps back, examining her work with critical eyes. "There. Now you look properly devastating." Her grin turns wicked. "Let's go make some bad decisions."

And that’s how you somehow end up in one of those trendy pubs near campus.

Which is, by the way, absolutely packed when you arrive—music thrumming through the floorboards and lighting making everyone look airbrushed.

The bass line manages to drown out the voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like him.

Kiara orders shots immediately. The tequila burns going down, but it's better than the ache that's been living in your sternum for days.

"To terrible men," she declares, raising another glass.

"To terrible decisions," you counter, and the lime tastes like freedom when you bite down.

And three shots later, the edges of everything finally start to blur pleasantly.

The music feels like it's flowing through your veins, making your hips sway without conscious thought. Kiara drags you to the dance floor, her laugh bright and infectious as she spins you around.

"See?" She has to shout over the bass. "This is what Friday nights are supposed to feel like!"

And maybe she's right. Maybe this is better than sitting in your room, staring at your phone, waiting for a message that's never going to come. Maybe this—the plethora of bodies moving around you, the asphyxiating burn of tequila, the way your dress slides against your skin when you dance—is exactly what you need.

You close your eyes, letting the music take over. Let yourself forget about gentle voices and surgical hands and the way he'd looked at you like you were something precious right before he—

No.

Not tonight.

Tonight is for dancing and drinking and pretending your heart isn't still beating in morse code: Ho-seok, Ho-seok, Ho-seok.

(But god, even the bass line sounds like his laugh.)

The tequila makes your phone screen swim as you glare at his contactless profile. The gray circle mocks you—empty and cold like his stupid perfect soul.

"Look at you," you slur at the blank icon. "Not even a picture anymore. Too good for pictures now? Too busy being tall and successful and making people question their sanity?"

Kiara—who apparently managed to grab a mojito at some point—now snorts into her glass. "Honey..."

"And your hands." You jab accusingly at the screen. "Why are they so big? Who gave you permission? Stupid... stupid surgeon hands with their stupid... precision."

"Okay, that's enough." Kiara tries to grab your phone, but you clutch it to your chest.

"No wait, I'm not done insulting his perfect face. Which isn't even here anymore because he's too important for profile pictures apparently." You hiccup. "Probably busy being gentle and professional somewhere else. With his stupid rolled-up sleeves and his stupid honey voice and his stupid—"

"Perfect bone structure?" Kiara supplies helpfully.

"Yes!" You slump against the bar. "It's offensive. His whole... everything is offensive. Criminal, even. We should report him to the medical board for being unreasonably attractive while also being a complete—"

"Asshole?"

"I was gonna say bastard but yes." You squint at the screen again. "Look at him. Not looking at us. With his not-picture. Rude."

Kiara pats your head sympathetically. "Come on, disaster. Let's find you someone who actually shows up in photos."

As if summoned by her words, two guys materialize beside your table. The taller one—dark hair, nice smile, definitely not wearing a white coat or speaking in medical terminology—leans against the bar.

"Can we buy you ladies a drink?"

You open your mouth to decline, but Kiara kicks you under the table.

"We'd love that," she says smoothly. "I'm Kiara, this is Y/N."

"James," the tall one offers. "This is Mike."

Mike waves, sliding onto the stool next to you. He's cute, in a slightly tired way—the kind that comes from hospital rotations and too little sleep.

"Med student?" he asks, noticing your distracted glance at your phone.

"How'd you guess?" you ask.

"The thousand-yard stare," he laughs. "I'm doing my internship at SNU. Just started the emergency rotation last week."

You manage a small smile. Med student, intern—at least he's not a certain first-year resident with surgical hands and a talent for making you question your sanity.

"So," Mike asks, "what brings you here tonight?"

"Emotional devastation," you announce before Kiara can stop you. "Also tequila."

He laughs—a normal laugh, not a honey-dripped chuckle designed to make your knees weak. "Sounds like there's a story there."

"Oh, there's a story." You straighten up, warming to your topic. "See, there's this guy—"

Kiara slaps her hand over your mouth. "Who we are not talking about tonight!" She smiles brilliantly at James and Mike. "How about those drinks?"

You lick her palm until she releases you with a yelp.

"Fine," you concede, accepting the fresh margarita Mike slides your way. "No talking about He Who Must Not Be Named."

"Voldemort?" James jokes.

You snort into your drink. "Worse. He's a doctor."

Mike winces sympathetically. "Ah. One of those."

"Exactly!" You point at him triumphantly. "One of those. With their... their competence and their steady hands and their stupid ability to make everything sound like a medical procedure—"

Kiara kicks you again. "Drinks," she reminds you firmly. "We're drinking and dancing and not thinking about certain medical professionals who shall remain nameless."

"Right." You take a long sip of margarita. "No thinking about names. Or nicknames. Or the way certain people say certain nicknames like they're tasting them—"

"Dance floor!" Kiara announces loudly, grabbing your arm. "We're going to the dance floor now!"

As she drags you away, you hear Mike ask James: "Should we be concerned?"

"Probably," James replies, but he's following anyway.

You let Kiara pull you into the crowd, the bass drowning out your thoughts. It's fine. You're fine.

And if you check your phone one more time—just to glare at the blank profile picture and maybe compose a strongly worded text about the audacity of certain medical residents—well.

That's between you and the tequila.

Definitely not between your bones and Mike as hemoves closer, hand settling tentatively on your waist.

You know he’s being polite about it—know he’s asking permission with his eyes, keeping a respectful distance.

It's nice.

Normal.

Boring.

(No. Not boring. Safe. This is what normal flirting feels like. Not... whatever psychological warfare Hoseok had been waging.)

"You're a good dancer," Mike says, and his voice is perfectly pleasant. No syrupy-thick manipulation. No clinical observations about your hip mobility.

"Thanks." You manage a smile that only feels slightly forced. "You too."

He grins—an uncomplicated expression that doesn't hide any surgical precision behind it. "Want to get some air? Maybe..." He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "Take a smoke break?"

You don't smoke. Have never smoked. Would normally launch into a lecture about pulmonary health risks and carcinogenic compounds because you're that kind of med student.

But.

But tonight you're wearing a dress that makes you feel dangerous, and your lips still taste like tequila, and somewhere across the city he's probably being perfect and untouchable and—

"Yes." The word tumbles out before you can stop it. "Air sounds good."

Kiara catches your eye across the dance floor, raising an eyebrow in silent question. You wave her off, letting Mike guide you through the crowd toward the exit.

The night air hits your bare shoulders like a slap, sobering and sharp. Mike leans against the brick wall, offering you the pack with another easy smile.

You take a cigarette because you're drunk and stupid and maybe trying to prove something to yourself. Or to him.

(Everything feels like it's about him lately.)

"Here." Mike cups his hands around the flame, shielding it from the breeze as you lean in.

The first inhale burns—acrid and harsh and nothing like the way his mouth had burned against yours. You manage not to cough, but it's a near thing.

"Not a regular smoker?" Mike asks, amused.

You shake your head, watching the ember glow in the darkness. "First time, actually."

His eyebrows lift. "Shit, really? Should've told me. We could've started you with something lighter."

The concern in his voice makes something in your chest twist. Because it's nice. He's being nice. And you're standing here thinking about someone else's mouth and someone else's hands and—

"Sorry," you blurt out. "I'm kind of a mess right now."

Mike's laugh is gentle. "Yeah, I got that impression." He takes a drag, smoke curling between you. "Want to talk about it?"

"God no." You attempt another inhale, managing not to choke this time. "I want to forget about it."

His eyes flick to your mouth, then back to yours. "I could help with that."

The invitation is clear. Simple. Uncomplicated.

You could do it. Could let this nice, normal boy kiss you against the brick wall. Could replace the memory of bergamot with something softer. Safer.

Could prove that you're not still thinking about gentle poison and cloying praise and the way his fingers had—

"I can't." The words taste like ash. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"Hey." Mike straightens, hands lifting in surrender. "No pressure. We can just talk. Or not talk." He grins. "Or you can keep pretending to enjoy that cigarette while plotting revenge against whatever doctor broke your heart."

A laugh bubbles up—slightly hysterical but real. "That obvious?"

"Little bit." He takes the cigarette from your trembling fingers, stubbing it out. "Come on. Let's get you some water before your friend murders me for letting you smoke."

You let him lead you back inside, grateful for the simple kindness of it. For the way he doesn't push or pry or try to take advantage of your obvious vulnerability.

It's nice.

Normal.

Right.

(So why does it feel so wrong?)

Your phone buzzes in your clutch.

You ignore it.

Some habits are harder to break than others.

The rest of the night blurs into a mess of well-meaning moments that all feel slightly wrong. Mike gets you water, makes sure you're steady on your feet, laughs at your increasingly unfiltered commentary about medical school.

He's perfect.

And that's the problem.

Because your drunk brain keeps cataloging all the ways he's not perfect enough. His hands are normal-sized. His smile doesn't hide anything. When he touches your elbow to steady you, it's just... a touch. No clinical observations about proprioception or balance compensation.

"You doing okay?" he asks for the third time, and his concern is so genuine it makes your teeth hurt.

"I'm fine," you lie, but what you mean is: you're not him.

You're not fine. You're drunk and touch-starved and maybe a little broken, because apparently regular flirting feels empty now. Like eating sugar-free candy when you know exactly how the real thing tastes.

"Want to dance again?" Mike offers, and you almost say yes because that's what you're supposed to want.

Normal girl, normal boy, normal Friday night.

But.

But your skin feels too tight and your head is spinning and all you can think about is how he would handle this—how he'd steady you with those surgeon's hands and murmur something about vestibular dysfunction while his thumb pressed against your pulse.

"I need air," you announce, pushing away from the bar.

Your heel catches on nothing, sending you stumbling.

Mike reaches for you, but you're already righting yourself, muscle memory kicking in as you adjust your center of gravity.

"Excellent compensatory response," you mutter in his voice, then laugh because you're definitely losing it.

"What?"

"Nothing." You wave off Mike's concerned look. "Just... medical student things."

"I get it," he says with a knowing smile. "The terminology gets stuck in your head after a while. My attending at SNU is always going on about proprioception and vestibular function."

Your stomach drops at the mention of SNU. "Which department?"

"Emergency, but we rotate through different services. This week I've been with the surgical team." He shrugs. "It's intense, but the residents are mostly cool."

You nod, wondering if he's ever supervised Mike, if they've worked side by side while you were sitting at home staring at your phone.

He smiles like he understands, but he doesn't. Can't. Because he's never had someone turn basic anatomy into psychological warfare. Never had someone make him question his own sanity with plausible deniability and careful touches and—

"Text me?" Mike's voice cuts through your spiral.

Your eyes flicker down to his hand. He's holding out his phone, expression hopeful.

You stare at it. At his normal, nice, completely uncomplicated contact page with its normal, nice, completely visible profile picture.

"I can't," you say finally, and you mean: I'm ruined for normal now.

His smile is understanding. Kind. "The doctor?"

"The doctor," you confirm, and you hate how your voice catches on the word.

Kiara immediately appears at your elbow—your guardian angel in four-inch heels. "Let’s get some air." She waves to Mike. "Thanks for keeping an eye on her."

"Anytime." He means it too, which makes it worse somehow.

You both make it outside. The night air feels like clarity. Kiara tucks you against her shoulder as you let out a soft sigh.

"He’s nice," she says finally.

"Yeah." You close your eyes, remembering gentle smiles and normal hands and complete lack of medical terminology. "Too nice."

"Oh honey." She strokes your hair. "You're so fucked."

You laugh until you cry, because she has no idea how right she is. How thoroughly, completely, deliberately fucked you've been by someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

Your phone buzzes.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢. 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛.

Your heart stops.

“Y/N.” Kiara mutters, glancing down at your screen.

“Give me a second.” You reply, voice slightly slurred.

Because you know that clinical concern. Know that detached tone that sounds like medical advice but feels like ownership.

Your fingers slip on the keyboard as you type:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜??? 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚘𝚎𝚔 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕 # 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝙲𝙾𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚖𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚢?? 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚃

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙶𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚙.

The nickname makes you see red. You practically stab the screen with your thumbs:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙳𝙾𝙽𝚃. 𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙿. 𝙼𝙴. 𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚞 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺𝙳 𝙼𝙴

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚛 𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚑𝚐 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚝????? 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑????? 𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 “𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢” 𝚑𝚞𝚑?????

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝙾 𝚞𝚛 𝚊 𝙲𝙾𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳. 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝙾𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙳

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚔.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙽𝙾 𝚂𝙷𝙸𝚃 𝚂𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙲𝙾𝙲𝙺.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚛𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝙼𝚛 𝙱𝚒𝚐 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝙼𝚊𝚗

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕?????? 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚍

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you wait.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚄 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈/𝙽.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚘𝚑 𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎. 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚢. 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚍𝚘??? 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 𝙼𝙴 𝙰𝙶𝙰𝙸𝙽???

The dots return, lingering longer this time.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙸’𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙽𝙾. 𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚍. 𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝙷𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚄

𝐘𝐨𝐮: ��𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚝𝚠. 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚕 𝚜𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍. 𝙱𝙾𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚆𝚑𝚘’𝚜 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎?

You grin viciously at the sharp edge in those two words.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚗𝚝 𝚄 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚠𝚘

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝙽𝚘𝚠.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚝????? 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚣 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜????? 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚎?????

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚙.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝙽𝙾𝙿𝙴. 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛????? 𝚒𝚖 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚢/𝚗 𝚗𝚘𝚠. 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚛 𝚢/𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚐𝚘𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚛𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 𝙷𝙴𝚁

You jab at the send button, chest rising too fast, too unsteady, because fuck him.

Fuck him for watching you from a distance. Fuck him for pretending he wasn’t. Fuck him for texting you when he’s the one who left—for acting like he still has a say in what you do, who you see, how much you drink.

Fuck him for making you like this.

Your fingers curl tighter around your phone, the alcohol thick in your bloodstream, pulse scalding under your skin.

You squeeze your eyes shut, but all you can see is him. That fucking look on his face, like you’d somehow made him the victim.

Like he was the one suffering.

You shove your phone back into your bag, stomach twisting, vision tilting—

And then you pull it right back out.

Because you can’t escape inevitability, even as much as you wish you could.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚞 𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚛𝚗

The dots appear instantly, then vanish. Your heart pounds as you push further:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚞 𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚞 𝚒 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍

A long pause. Then:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙿𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝.

Your lips curve, knowing you’ve got him. Even through the alcohol haze, you can feel the shift in his tone—the way the period instead of a question mark betrays his tension. Curiosity. Intrigue.

Attraction.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚞 𝚝𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚖𝚎. 𝚊𝚋𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚐𝚊𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚡

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. You press on:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚘. 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈/𝙽.

Full name. You’re getting to him.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒 𝚐𝚘𝚝??? 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚠???

The response is immediate:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝???? 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚙𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚖𝚎??? 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚗????

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙻𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗??? 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚎𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚘𝚗????

Another pause. Then:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚃𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚢??? 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗???

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙵𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

Your thighs clench at the curse. Because this—this is what you wanted. What you want. Him cursing. Him losing it, like you’ve lost it—medical terminology abandoned.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚎 𝚍𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐. 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚊𝚕

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙶𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚡𝚒. 𝙽𝚘𝚠.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚞𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎. 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚢 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔

The response is lightning fast:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙸𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚙𝚊𝚕.

The threat has your knees wobbling.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜???

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙷𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚕.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚝

Three dots appear. Linger. Disappear. Your phone buzzes with a location pin instead.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝟸𝟶 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜. 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

You stare at the address, feeling slightly bold. Slightly reckless. Because that’s his apartment. Where he’d almost—where you’d nearly—

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙸 𝚊𝚖.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚘𝚜𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚙.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚢𝚎𝚜?

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝟷𝟿 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎

His reply makes you, indeed, not want to behave at all.

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸’𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚕𝚢. 𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚢. 𝚄𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎????

Three dots appear one last time:

𝐔𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫: 𝟷𝟾 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜, 𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚙. 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘𝚌𝚔.

You send him a middle finger emoji and watch the dots appear, disappear, appear again.

Let him stew.

You’ve got 17 minutes to decide just how badly you want to misbehave.

(Very badly, as it turns out.)

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @just-reading-dany @sanarin @billy-jeans23 @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @hobis-sprite0218

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

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silverview · 1 day ago

Text

i thought i'd do a self-indulgent little roundup post about my birthday, so i can look back on it someday and get emo about how lovely it was :')

concludes with my s/f report from the thursday evening show, all spoilers clearly marked!!

on the day itself i got some amazing gift fics from @donotbelasagne, @batatadulce9 & @kookaburrito (in order of posting), which was completely unexpected & wonderful 💕💕 if you like freaky rpf then you probably know where to find them! AND...

kooka also sent me this reece locket and this AMAZING lazoo doll which. i actually started yelling when i opened it & saw what it was. LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT MY HORRID BABY

this is why i had to post the stitchup showdown opening, to at least provide context if not an explanation for my love for him 💗

my bf got me some amazing presents too, and we saw stage/fright – his 1st time, my 5th. details about the show further down, but first...!!

💕 REECE HUGGED ME!! 💕 and wished me happy birthday!!! 💕 he is the absolute sweetest and i just... yeah no words. i have rewatched the video of it a million times already. i was wearing heels so it was a biiit of a stretch for him to reach 🙈

i think this confirms he's not on ao3 lol because when i said "it's my birthday!" he didn't go pale and say "YOU! >:O"

on friday i had the best day with the lovely @spcvarney 💗 & we did a tour of the wyndham's!! she posted about this already, but the staff told us that reece has been claiming to feel ghosts touching his shoulder & stuff in the theatre 👻 of course he has

supposedly he had the same experience back in 2005 when he did as you like it there. no wonder he seems so happy there. they said that the alleged ghost has a history of reacting badly to swearing, and especially to the word cunt. 🫢

they let us go onstage, which was amazing. they asked us not to take photos of the stage/fright set & props. so of course i didn't. :) it really is an amazingly beautiful place

yesterday was my birthday party & it was rlly nice to see my family & friends, including some wonderful in9 fans, and i had the BEST time nerding out with them in person 💗 @wintersoulwitch managed to come by IN BETWEEN the evening & matinee s/f performances which was actual legend behaviour, & their varney tshirt was easily a highlight of the whole experience

at the party itself i found out that i didn't just pass my january exams (the ones that made me wish i was dead), i actually nailed them 😭😭

@mifhortunach came a long way for the party & i can't say how exciting that was 🥹❤️ we've been friends for the longest time & every time we hang out irl i have so much fun. they were the one who introduced me to in9 in the first place, so that was a nice full circle moment 😅

today i was so wrecked that i slept all morning & only woke up in time to see them off. it has been a very... VERY intense three days & this post can't possibly capture it all but yeah, these are just some highlights

i feel really lucky. i love my friends, including the ones not mentioned here & the ones who don't know that i think of them as friends. idk how i come across on here, or in person. i'm not someone who has never been deeply lonely & shy & insecure. being in this fandom is one of the strangest & loveliest things that's ever happened to me, because the people are amazing. sometimes i think about how it won't last forever, but that's okay, i'll enjoy it for as long as it lasts

my time gets stretched pretty thin. i'm never on here as much as i'd like to be, & i usually don't reply to people as fast as i'd like to. a lot of in9 fans are in the uk, so my nocturnal habits are pretty antisocial. thanks for being kind to me & patient with me :')

⚠️ stage/fright spoilers beyond this point!!! ⚠️

thursday eve was a GREAT performance!! the audio is mostly me + my bf cackling with joy. the audience were well up for it. really enthusiastic, laughing a lot. the whole play felt looser and more energetic than usual, everyone in the cast was clearly vibing

reece especially – marcus was sassier and more over-the-top than usual, and he corpsed a bunch during kidnappers, covering his mouth with his hand. on "i know how to answer the phone" he did a little jig for no reason and then burst out laughing at himself

speaking of kidnappers, the guest was julian clary (jewel ink lairy) and he was FANTASTIC, so so funny. he called s&r "heterosexual cunts" & i think the looks on their faces can best be described as delighted astonishment

i should point out that my straight, non-fandom, comedy writer bf feels that the "pudgy & homosexual" line IS most likely a reference to s&r themselves 💁🏻‍♀️

hugo's gloves were among the props left out onstage. plus the ghost light, gramophone, creepy jars, and trepanning chair from that segment. and the hare (we think it was The Hare)

the boys skipped some fairly important dialogue in their last scene: the reference to bcdr and the explanation as to why the song was cut. not sure what happened but i think reece just fastforwarded a bit by mistake. it still worked and it was still absolutely perfect. ❤️

i had happy tears in my eyes all through the song. reece was audibly belting it out and clearly having the time of his absolute life.

when miranda hennessy came out of the stage door, there was a huge cheer from a group of women across the alley who yelled "we know her!" she ran over to them & they all hugged & laughed & they said how proud they were :')))

#in9 #stagefright #stitchup showdown #rs

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yanderedbdimagines · 2 days ago

Note

Hi ! I love your work and I saw requests were open !! I was wondering if you could write something about Trickster going sentient, like reader is a DBD player and Trickster is their killer main and he's becoming sentient ! He starts acting yandere, getting mad when they buy another killer, talking to them through the game etc ? Pleaaase !!

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Thank you so much for appreciating my work!

And of course! Trickster has always been one of my favorite go-to killers as well. He still kind of is! He may not look terrifying at first glance, but what he’s capable of is what truly makes him scary to me. I tried to capture that feeling in this piece as well. Also, I believe his anger would actually be quite subtle, put potent in a way. He's called the Trickster for a reason after all. :P Especially towards his obsession.

PS: If any character in the game somehow became sentient, I’d throw my computer out immediately. Let alone a killer! I would totally freak out! xD

PSS: I don't know any Korean. If I messed it up by using translators wrong, I'm sorry in advance!

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The Trickster

Ji-Woon Hak had always been your go-to killer. Maybe it was the thrill of playing him. The way he laughed in insanity, coupled with that crazed giggle as he chased survivors down, and the sheer passion and arrogance laced through his Korean voice lines. His presence in the game simply felt different from the others. All the way down to his disturbingly good chase music, which is an excellent representation to his character.

And as such, he’s indeed a star. Effortlessly charming and dangerously captivating. Before the Entity took him, the crowds adored him for a reason, oblivious to the gleam in his golden eyes when the screams began behind closed doors, embedded into his music like secret, bloody confessions. They never recognized the torture hidden in his music, layered beneath the melody like a secret only he was twisted enough to understand.

Killing wasn’t just second nature to Ji-Woon. It was the purest form of his self-expression.

And to you, that was the real horror. Because unlike many others in the Entity’s grasp, he wasn’t a monster made. He was a monster born. Just another handsome face, smiling for the cameras, waving to his adoring fans. His darkest secrets not buried, but hidden in plain sight. Or more so within earshot. And no one ever dared to hear them until it was too late.

Maybe that was why, after months of playing Dead by Daylight, you never really strayed from him. You bought his skins, experimented with his builds, mastered his mechanics and the precise arc of his blades. He was your constant pick.

So at first, the strange things that eventually started to happen didn’t really bother you.

It began in the character selection screen. His model glitched once. A wide smirk suddenly etching itself onto his features. He turned around more often while you waited in lobby, flashing you that saucy wink of his. There was a slight lag when you hovered over another killer, an occasional stutter in his idle animations, a minor bug where his eyes tracked your cursor just a bit too smoothly.

You decided to ignored it.

Then the loading screens started taking longer. Freezing for a second too long when his face suddenly appeared, as if the game itself hesitated. And once, in the middle of a match, you left the desk for a moment to grab something from your drawer, letting the killer stand idle in a house in Springwood.

That was when you heard it, just as you returned. Faint. Threading between the distant caws of crows and the crackle of the Entity’s realm. A voice, which sounded silky and teasing. Familiar.

"Getting distracted, 자기야1?"

Your hand jerked on the mouse. It had to be a bug. A voice line triggering where it shouldn’t. You brushed it off as a trick of the mind.

Then, after a while, the disconnects started. Not often, but just enough to be annoying. Almost every time you played another killer, you’d be booted mid-match. No error message. Just a sudden return to the desktop. Whenever you played survivor, you almost always found yourself facing the Trickster, with a hint of a stutter as you tried to get your character away from him.

But when you played as Ji-Woon himself? Smooth. No lag. No crashes.

Still, you pushed it aside. Games had bugs. Maybe the servers were acting up. You refused to get paranoid over minor issues, or the fact that barely any other killer ever appeared when you played survivor. Perhaps you just had a weird streak of fate.

Then, one night after watching a video, you tabbed back into the game and noticed that his theme music in the killer selection menu was different. Slower and warped. Like it was played underwater. The Trickster was staring at you. Not in his usual cocky way, but with his head tilted slightly, his smile smaller than usual and his golden eyes literally locked onto yours. As if he were waiting for something.

The screen glitched once, then again, and everything returned to normal. But matches grew even more strange after that. Survivors went down faster, their screams more real and distorted and their models twitching unnaturally. It scared you.

If you played as a different killer, you’d get disconnected mid-match much faster. Yet whenever you switched back to Trickster, the game stabilized.

Then one night, you apparently made a mistake. Out of curiosity, you went up and purchased another killer. the Oni, which you considered to be a change of pace. The moment you returned to the killer selection screen, it flickered; static sprinkling the menu. Trickster’s model was there on the right, but his grin had vanished. His head tilted, his bright pupils narrowed into thin slits of displeasure.

Your hands trembled over the keyboard. “It’s just a game…” you murmured, shaking your head and blinking a few times. Then his voice, unlike any recorded line or in-game effect, but unmistakably real, echoed through your headset. Smooth and cold.

"Not to me, 공주님2."

Deep down, you knew this game was no longer the same. But you played it off as a lack of sleep this time around, shut down the PC, and took a well-earned break.

You naively came back a few hours later. You loaded into the Temple of Purgation, picking the Oni. You’d bought him for a reason, after all. But as the match began, the camera panned over the environment and, for a split second just before it faded to your POV, you saw him.

Not the Oni. The Trickster.

He stood at the very edge of the mists, just beyond the temple’s crumbling stone archways. The fog curled unnaturally around him, clinging to his figure like something alive, shifting and parting just enough to reveal the glow of his golden eyes. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t part of the match. He was just… watching.

The moment you took control, he was gone. Your fingers twitched over the keyboard. That wasn’t normal. Maybe a graphical glitch? Some weird overlap from previous matches? You shook it off and pressed forward.

At first, the game ran fine. You chased down survivors, activated your power, played the match as you normally would. But something felt off. A heaviness in the air, a strange, crawling sensation at the back of your neck. Then the game began to stutter. Not lag and neither was it a bug. The frames dragged deliberately, as if the game itself resisted your input. The Oni’s movements felt sluggish, like wading through thick and invisible muck.

And then came the laughter. Soft and breathy, slithering between the sounds of gameplay.

"Tch. This isn’t like you, 자기야1. You’d rather be that clunky old fossil than me? Where’s your sense of taste?" His accent runs heavy alongside the bite in his tone.

Your blood ran cold. That wasn’t an in-game line. Your eyes flicked to one of the killer’s perk icons. Oni’s nemesis perk, just as you’d chosen. For a brief moment, Ji-Woon’s smirking face in a similar art style replaced it before snapping back. Your stomach twisted as another hitch in the frame rate distorted the screen. Pixels twisting as if a presence bled into the code.

"You're ignoring me," he observed, his voice still smooth but tinged with bitter distaste.

The game audio warped beyond recognition, the chase music slowed to a sickening drag then sped up erratically, like a scratched CD skipping. The survivors’ animations twitched unnaturally. Every time you activated the killer’s skill, the deep, guttural roar sounded way off. Higher, smoother, mocking. Obviously replaced with the voice of a certain Killer. "Not so fun, huh?" You hear him huff in amusement, teasing you as he does.

Frustrated, you slammed the Escape key. Nothing happened. The match wasn’t over, but you couldn’t do this anymore. With shaky hands, you forced your PC off manually, the screen cutting to black. Your reflection stared back at you in the dark monitor with wide eyes reflecting unease. You ripped off your headset and exhaled hard. It was just a game, you told yourself. You even debated uninstalling it. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? It’s just a game.

So you didn’t play it for the rest of the night.

The next day, curiosity won out. You had planned to delete the game. To scrub it from your system and be done with whatever hellish events had occurred. But after you booted up your PC, a Steam pop-up appeared.

Your pulse quickened as you skimmed the message.

Dead by Daylight – Security Update

A large leak had been addressed. Some players had reported strange in-game activity. An exploit that allowed hackers to take control of matches, resulting in unusual interactions. The developers apologized for the inconvenience. As compensation, a DLC of your choice would be free upon logging in.

Your fingers hovered over the mouse. This had to be the reason. Just some script kiddies messing with the servers, triggering audio or animation glitches. You exhaled a sigh of relief and launched the game.

The menu loaded smoothly, the music creating a subtle backdrop as you navigated the interface. Your gaze shifted to the killer selection screen. Trickster stood in his usual spot after you’d selected him. His stance casual yet confident, the infamous bat balanced nonchalantly on his shoulder. He executed that distinct head tilt. The one accompanied by an unnecessarily seductive "ah,". At that moment, his animation seemed to hesitate, his eyes lingering on the screen a fraction longer than usual. The light caught his left earring, making it glint momentarily before falling back against his neck due to retaining the previous angle of his head. Then, just as smoothly, the bat returned to his side.

Despite the brief, unsettling pause, his expression remained unchanged. A confident smirk played across his lips when he moved to inspect his bat, his golden eyes glinting with sharp amusement, as if privy to a joke you hadn’t yet figured out. No flickering. No static. Everything appeared perfectly normal.

Your tense shoulders loosened slightly. Maybe you had imagined it all. The breach is fixed, after all. You claimed your free DLC, already planning to test out the desired killer and survivor later. But first… just one more match with the Trickster.

Your cursor hovered over the Play button for a second before you clicked. The match queued instantly. No lobby, no loading delay, no lag. Your gut twisted. As the screen transitioned, unease slithered down your spine. The game had loaded, but something was obviously wrong.

The usual environmental sounds; distant caws of crows, the occasional metallic groan of the Entity’s influence, were gone. You panned the first-person camera over the map. No survivors moved between cover. No crows startled into the air. No gens sparking in the distance. Just you. Alone.

Your eyes darted to the UI. The HUD was intact- your abilities, perks, and power displayed as they should be. And yet, there were no objectives. No unseen timer counting down. No signs of life. Just silence. A cold prickle crawled over your skin.

Then, a soft chuckle. Rich, amused, present. "Finally. Just us." Your breath hitched. The sound came through your headset. Close. Way too close.

The screen flickered. Your blood ran cold.

No…

You tried moving Trickster forward, pressing the left mouse button to swing through the empty air. He responded as normal. Smooth, precise, as if performing a well-rehearsed act. But there was nothing to do. No generators humming to life, no players fleeing, no exit gates. The map lay barren, stripped of its usual chaos. Each time you struck the environment in boredom, a mocking chuckle, sly and knowing, echoed in your ears.

Desperate, you opened the pause menu, but there was no option to leave the game. Your fingers trembled over the keyboard as you muttered, “What the hell is it this time?”

Then a soft laugh, closer and intimate, as though whispered from right beside you. "Aw, don’t look so spooked,공주님2. Isn’t this what you wanted? More time with me?"

Without warning, the camera shifted. Its movement not commanded by you, but as if pulled by an unseen hand. The perspective tilted down ever so slightly, as if the Trickster was studying himself.

No. As if he was studying you.

"You play me so often," his voice purred, smooth as silk and dripping with amusement. "Devoted, aren’t you? You never thought I’d actually notice, did you? Never thought I’d appreciate your little habits?" A chill crawled up your spine.

“This can’t be it. This isn’t real,” you whispered, almost pleading. “You are not sentient,” you insisted, but your voice wavered- thinning into uncertainty.

"Mmm, that's what you keep telling yourself," he replied, that familiar, teasing lilt threading through his tone. "A cute little parrot, endlessly repeating the same little song. 정말 웃기잖아, 자기야3. If only you repeated my name like that instead. I’m as real as I can get. " Your breathing grew shallow.

Then something shifted in the distance. A subtle, unnatural shadow moving where it shouldn’t be. You spun the camera up and to the side, heart hammering, but the map remained empty. Still, the sensation of being watched crawled over your skin. Your hands grew clammy as you gripped the mouse like a lifeline. You needed to leave. Now.

Alt + F4. Task Manager. Nothing worked. Your pulse pounded in your ears. Your body braced for a potential scenario- the chase, the hunt, the moment his blades would sink into your flesh. You weren’t special. You were just another victim…

Right?

Then the screen flickered. A brief stutter, a pause. For a fraction of a second, the game froze, and when it stabilized, Trickster’s weapon was gone. He wasn’t on it anymore.

Your hands froze over the keyboard for a second, before you abruptly stood up and took a step back, already leaning down to forcibly shut down the computer. A hand suddenly shot towards you after it suddenly angled its way back onto the screen. Distinctively bloody as it reached for you. You gasped audibly as you almost fell backward… But the hand never breached the screen. It halted abruptly at the boundary, suspended between the digital world and your reality. Crimson droplets clung to its outstretched fingers as it quivered against an invisible barrier. For a fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse. A flash of yellow fabric and a hint of a naked, muscular chest splattered with blood. But the view was distorted, obscured by the in-game camera’s interference, as if the interface itself rejected his intrusion.

Then came a low murmur. A string of curses in Korean, rough and frustrated. Though you couldn’t make out every word, the anger in his tone was unmistakable, raw even, as he cursed the limits that kept him at bay. Almost immediately, the bitterness dissolved into his familiar, self-assured mockery before he slipped off the screen.

"이건 정말 불공평해요, 공주님4," he drawled, voice dripping with playful disdain. A mind game. It had to be it. "If only this screen wasn’t in the way. 당신은 아직 모르는 재밌는 것들을 놓치고 있습니다5."

The taunting words slithered through your headset. His crazed laughter, edged high with mischief and frustration, filled the silence afterwards.

In that moment, your heart pounded with a mixture of terror and panic. At the end of the day, the screen itself remains unchanged. A game paused on an empty map, the digital world eerily still. Yet Trickster’s presence still lingered at the edge of reality. You could sense it.

With eyes wide, you forcibly shut down the PC, yanking out every cable from the back of your computer screen and desktop afterwards. You vowed to never, ever play Dead by Daylight again. Not after everything you’d just experienced. After all, who knows what might have happened if he had truly breached his way into your room. You believe that he’d most definitely would have tortured you to death, unaware of his true intentions. You could only shiver in fear and disgust at the very thought of it.

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1 = 자기야 = jagiya = babe.

2 = 공주님 = gongjunim = princess

3 = 정말 웃기잖아, 자기야. = jeongmal usgijanh-a, jagiya.= It's so funny, babe.

4 = 이건 정말 불공평해요, 공주님 = igeon jeongmal bulgongpyeonghaeyo, gongjunim = This is so unfair, princess.

5 = 당신은 아직 모르는 재밌는 것들을 놓치고 있습니다. = Dangsin-eun ajig moleuneun jaemissneun geosdeul-eul nohchigo issseubnida. = You're missing out on fun things you don't know about yet.

#yandere #dbd #dbd x reader #dead by daylight #reader insert #the trickster #ji woon hak

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