#apologizing when it's done but still taking it with him. feels really bad for ripping it out of rhys' face but not enough to give it back

[harrysangel23]

Floaty

A/N: Hi guys! I've returned with a new fic that I hope y'all enjoy. I apologize for the long wait for a new fic, unfortunately life has not been kind but I finally got around to this (yay!) Anyway, hope you guys enjoy! (this has not been proofread yet either, wanted to get something out asap)

Pairing: Mean dom H x sub reader

Warnings: fingering (F recieving), spanking, use of safe word, degrading, mean H (don't worry he redeems himself), p in v, and I think thats all?

WC: 3,058

Summary: After feeling floaty all day and having enough, Angel decides to touch herself while Harry is at work... but her actions have consequences.

18+

Angel felt floaty all day. 

It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, she had it mostly under control…

But it was hard when Harry was at work all day, leaving her with hardly any attention before he left. Just a soft kiss on the lips before he exited the bedroom, where she laid on their bed, still dazed from the previous night. He’d probably be too tired by the time he got home to attend to her anyway.

She tried focusing on other things as an attempt to keep her mind at ease, but it was hard okay?

Especially when her thoughts would continuously drift back to last night. His cock ruthlessly pounding into her, soft grunts pouring from his mouth, and his hands harshly gripping her hips to stabilize her. 

He really fucked her good. Too good. 

She was distracted all day, even only minutes ago she had burned her hand. Her mind was on dirty thoughts crowded her mind, when she snapped out of it, she brought her hand up to rub over her eyes, in an attempt to shake the memories. However, when she thinks of the fact that her hand is on her face, soon her mind is on how his hand tightly gripped her face, forcing her mouth open as he spat on her tongue and made her swallow it. In frustration at herself, (how hard was it to not think filthy thoughts for at least 5 minutes?!) she slapped her hand down on the countertop. But instead of it being their kitchen countertop, it was the stove top, that she had turned on as she was on her way to grab a pan to make a nice dinner for Harry. Now that was blown to shit. 

She let out a string of curses -which she never does- and immediately rips her hand away and turns toward the direction of the sink. Quickly she turns the knob for the cold water to run and places her hand under it while she feels bad for herself. 

She couldn’t even have enough self control of her thoughts, how floaty her mind is, and she winds up burning her hand. She turns the water off, and makes her way towards their bathroom off of their bedroom. She searches through their cabinet, finding the ointment they had, quickly applying it and applying a wrap to keep it covered. 

She whimpered, still feeling sorry for herself, as she made her way towards the bed to lay down. With her back on the mattress, she glared at the ceiling as her hands rest at her side. Despite only wallowing for a couple minutes -she had an epiphany. 

She could just touch herself.

There was nothing wrong with it. She was, simply put, horny. Hence explaining her unusual floatiness. In her mind, she if she made herself cum, and surely it’d go away. 

However, if Harry found out, he would not be happy. Obviously, if she called and asked, explained how she was feeling, of course he’d understand. He’d let her touch himself, if he was feeling really generous, he might’ve driven home and help take care of her. 

But that was just her being selfish, she wouldn’t want to disturb him while hes working, he’d probably be annoyed with that too! Plus, with how worked up she was, she figured she’d be done and satisfied by the time he got home.

Unfortunately for her, she was way wrong on that one. Thats what she figured anyway as Harry stood in the doorway, arms crossed with an scowl on his face and he watched her peel her fingers from her pussy as she avioded eye contact with him. 

“And just what do you think you’re doing puppy?” He still sharply glared at her. She sat up, grabbing the duvet to cover herself as her head hung in embarrassment. “I asked you a question and I expect you to answer me.” 

She tried to speak, she really did! But it was hard, she was so embarrassed and it seemed no matter the situation she thought of, she’s still be in trouble, no matter what she told him. Her floaty head cloouding her mind, even worse now that she wasn’t able to finish. She had just been on the brink of her orgasm as Harry cleared his throat from their doorway. 

She could hear his sigh as he moved towards the bed, she slightly turned her head to try and look at him and she noticed him unbuttoning his shirt. His glorious tattoos becoming more visible as he stripped from it. More of them becoming visible, especially the yummy tiger on his thighs as his belt and pants joined the floor. 

“Get up,” His voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument, so she followed his orders as he sat on the side of the bed, peeling his boxers off, allowing his cock to be on full display. He sat on the side of the bed and she knew without him telling her where she was expected to go. She got on her knees between his legs and sat before leaning forward to mouth at the member. She was excited, although he seemed mad, this was going to help with how worked up she was… until he spoke up. “Nuh uh puppy, no touching, no mouthing.”

“But-” She looked up at him with pleading eyes. 

“Mm, now she can speak?” She opened her mouth to respond but no words came out. “Since my naughty puppy wants to disobey me and play with herself, I’ll play with myself, and she can watch the whole thing,” Her eyes felt watery as she watch him reach his hand reach down in front of her mouth. “Spit.” 

She shamefully did as she was told and watched as his hand began to stroke up and down on his cock. His muscles flexed as he began grunting at how good it felt, especially when he looked at her and noticed her fixated at his hand stroking his dick, her eyes watery. He felt himself getting more worked up by the second, he was hard enough walking in and seeing her plunge her fingers relentlessly working into her cunt, her juices clinging to her fingers. His pants growing heavy as she watched his precum leak from his tip, and finally his own cum spurting onto his stomach. 

“Wanna lick me up puppy hm?” She eagerly nodded before she started to lean forward once again to lick up all his salty release before he tutted at her. “Sorry pet, I just don’t know if you deserve it, do you?” Her tears leaked as she kept nodding. “Mmm, I don’t think you do, get up on the bed, hands and knees.” 

She sat there for a moment in disbelief. He was being so mean, her tears still falling and her mind getting floatier with each moment he wasn’t taking care of her. 

“You not hearing me today pet? I said up, now.” he tapped her cheek before he raised from the bed to grab a tissue and clean himself up. She figured she was in no position to disobey him (again), and climbed on the bed. She got where he wanted her, resting her head on the pillow and sliding her hands under it as well, she didn’t want him to see her injury and be displeased with how careless she had been. 

Soon enough, she felt him climb on the bed behind her, pushing her legs farther apart so he could see her puffy pussy fully. With watching him get himself off, constant dirty thoughts all day, and almost making herself cum, she was messy. Without warning, his own fingers plunged into her cunt. She yelped in surprise as he kept working into her. His fingers hitting the right spot after needing him, it felt blissful. She easily began moaning, and clenching around his fingers, her own orgasm coming quick. 

“I’m gonna cum, daddy.” She felt so happy, finally after needing this all day, he finally wasn’t going to be cruel and she was going to end satisfied. 

That was until his fingers were pulled from her right as she was at the very brink of cumming. 

“Now that’s too bad, isn’t it pup?” She felt her tears leak and soak into the pillow below her as she whimpered. 

“Please?” She whimpered out softly. 

He laid a hard smack on her ass, then another one, and another one. 

“I decide what my naughtly little puppy gets. You disobeyed me, and then you disobeyed me again. You don’t touch yourself without permission, and you certainly need to speak when I’m talking to you. I gotta teach you a lesson, otherwise how will I train my pet, hm?” 

“I’m sorry daddy.” She cried out to him, her own self-pitying returned. 

“Too late for that angel, you need to learn your lesson.” He growled at her as he laid yet another slap to her ass before he thrusted roughly into her. 

She gasped at the abrupt intrusion. Her whole body thrusted forward, similar to last night. She was so worked up and needed this more than anything. His hands gribbed her hips, thrusting her to meet his movements. She felt the familiar feeling in her tummy creep up and she whined once again. Sure, she loved feeling her all over her, his hands and his cock, but the feeling of coming undone from them was like no other. 

He must’ve felt her constantly clenching around him, he pulled out again before slapping her in the ass once again. 

She wept as she her orgasm was ripped away from her for the third time. She felt hopeless and her floaty mind was not doing anything to help her. She needed him so bad, why couldn’t he see that? 

“So close, aren’t you angel?” His condescending tone was hurting her feelings. She was in a soft spot, her whole day she just wanted him, she didn’t mean to go against him, she really just needed him that badly. 

Maybe he read her mind, she wasn’t sure but she did know how good it felt when his cock was plunging into her once again. His constant thrusts, satisfying her and she moaned into the pillow. She whimpered from her own neediness of him. He felt so good, his own grunts making her wetter. 

Her orgasm was reaching her again, she couldn’t believe how quick it approach, she’d feel embarrassed if it hadn’t felt so good. She loved every bit of him, especially how he could make her cum and make it an out-of-this-world experience. He’d always make her see stars. She loved how he also took care of her, despite him being mean he was so loving. 

He was being so cruel, constantly pulling her from an orgasm when all she wanted was him, all of him. She whimpered at the thought of him taking another orgasm from her again.

 So, to help her case, she reached her non-injured hand from the pillow to hold his hand. She just wanted to feel closer to him. Sure his cock plunging into her was as close as it gets, but the intimacy of holding his hand was something she needed right now. She needed a softer part of him- Yes, he was being mean and it turned her on, but he was reaching a breaking point for her. She missed him, and he left her alone when she was not in the right state. Not that he knew that! She didn’t get a chance to tell him, he held her close to him all night, got up before she did, and left before she had even gotten out of bed, how could he of known? He had even done what he normally does to make she sure isn’t feeling floaty like this. But, did that really mean he should be this cruel to her? 

While he was busy pounding into her, watching the way her ass jiggled with each movement, he hadn’t noticed her hand reaching back. However, he did notice when her fingers had lightly grazed his fingers. He immediately snached her wrist before holding it behind her. 

“No touching,” He squeezed her wrist to emphasize him point before releasing her hand. 

She whimpered, it was beginning to be too much. 

“C-can I please hold your hand daddy?” She let out softly. 

“What is it with you huh? Why can’t you listen, I said no touching.” His voice completely stern. 

She was pushed past her limits. She was sad to say the least. She just wanted to hold his hand, she understood he was upset she disobeyed him but he was being too mean. She just wanted him to coddle her, make her feel safe and warm, and of course have the blissful feeling of cuming. Or the very least if she couldn’t hold his hand, to be able to look at him. It wasn’t possible with her face being pushed into the pillow. But it was too much for her now, not being able to have any of that.

“Yellow. Yellow daddy.” Tears leaked down her face, she didn’t want him to stop fucking her, she wanted to cum and she could finally be at ease. But, he was being too mean and with all this thoughts swarming her and how he’s acting, she wasn’t sure it would ever happen. 

His thrusts immediately stopped, his grip on her lessoned as he heard her loud and clear at the word they use as a signal to slow down. He flipped her around and thats when he noticed her teary spaced out eyes. They were red from how much she had been crying. His heart clenched and he felt absolutely gutted. His hand reached to hold to her face, thumb swiping away her tears that kept falling. 

“M’so sorry sweetheart, was I hurting you? Whats going on?” His held his breath, expecting the worse. He hoped to god he hadn’t hurt her, he wasn’t as rough as he normally is, sure he was mean, but that was normally how they played. Then again, he wasn’t sure what was going on as she kept trying to talk while sobbing. “I know you’re upset right now angel, but I need y’to talk to me so I know how to fix it, okay?” He looked at her with such fondness so she knew he wasn’t mad at her anymore. 

“I just- It’s been too much,” She kept sucking in deep breaths as she tried to calm herself a little more and he waited patiently, still softly rubbing her cheek. “I have been feeling a little floaty today, It just got so bad I ended up burning my hand. A-and then I tried playing with myself to make my thoughts go away. I would’ve called you, I just d-didn’t want to annoy you at work. And I thought I could get it over quick and then I haven’t been able to cum. A-and I just needed to hold your hand when it got to much, I’m s-sorry I just am being needier than normal.” She took another deep breath, awaiting his response. 

“Sweetheart, you tell me these things as soon as you feel like this okay?” He lightly scolded her but he needed to make sure it wouldn’t happen again. “You call me when you feel floaty so we don’t end up like this alright? I hate to see you so sad angel, if I had known, I would never of punished you like this. And what's this about you hurting your hand?” She sniffled before showing him the lightly bandaged hand he failed to notice. He softly grabbed her hand before placing a light kiss to the center of the bandage. “My poor baby, M’so sorry honey. You need me to take care of you now? Promise I won’t be mean anymore.” 

“Yes please.” She let out softly before he moved her to lay fully on her back, spreading her legs. His cock in hand before sliding it up and down her slit. 

“You tell me if it’s too much puppy. J’wanna make you feel good.” As soon as she uttered a soft ‘okay’ he cock was plunged into her once again. 

His thrusts worked continuously, loving how she felt so tight around him. She loved how he continuously kept hitting her sweet spot. With his hand on her hip, he moved it to intertwine their fingers, holding her hand sweetly as he squeezed it reassuringly. 

Her moans where making it easy for him to get more worked up. He pounded into her leaking cunt as he leaned down to finally kiss his angel. She let out a breath of relief of how good it kept to have his cock wrapped around her, his lips on hers, and his hand tightly clenched into his. Their mouths moved eagerly together, tongues tracing the others as they become more and more close together. 

“Can I please cum daddy? It feels so good.” She panted aginst his lips. With chaste kiss left to her lips he responded. 

“Of course baby, cum f’me angel.” Their lips moved pastionately against each other, it was messy as their spit mixed together. He felt her clenching around him before she finally came with a loud moan. 

It only took him a couple more thrusts before he reached his own peak, coating her walls. Their kiss becoming more messy as he harshly panted from his peak. 

All too soon for her liking, he pulled out and collapsed beside her. He pulled her to lay on his chest as he kissed her temple, rubbing her back in soothing motions. 

“M’sorry I was so mean to you sweetheart, promise if I had known, I never would have been so cruel to my angel.”

“It’s okay Harry, I know you wouldn’t of, I don’t blame you, you didn’t know honey.” She placed a reassuring kiss on his chest before closing her eyes and attempting to control her breathing. 

“How ‘bout we lay here for a bit, and later I’ll clean ya up and we can order some food, hm?”

“Sounds good to me H, thank you.” He squeezed her tightly before closing his own eyes. 

“Of course baby, anything for you.”  Harry responded.

[americaninferno]

ao3s down time to post drabbles here

crooked

pairing: vandermatthews

rating: m

wc: 544

a/n: thus was one of the very first things i ever wrote for them and i still Like it, even if it's not the quality i try for normally but hey ho

With more force than necessary, he jams the half-empty whiskey bottle into Dutch's chest.

“Here. Drink.”

Dutch has never given him such a hateful glare before.

He obeys though, after a moment, holding his nose gingerly with one hand and slugging the booze with the other.

“When you've finished it, I'll fix your nose.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Dutch mumbles with a wince, stuffy and slurred, “I'll do it myself.”

“No, you won't, you big pussy,” Hosea snaps back, still irritable. “You'll bitch and moan all night until I end up doing it anyway.”

“Well, it's your fuckin’ fault!”

“You swung at me first.”

“You was messin’ with me,” Dutch says blearily.

He was, but the fist lobbed at his face was uncalled for.

Really, Hosea hadn't done anything at all. Just watched idly as Dutch had gone on one of his rambles, something about freedom and buying land together, the two of them, to raise some kind of family that he wasn't sure how two men would acquire. In fact, when Dutch had realized he wasn't listening, Hosea'd been absently staring at the slope of his nose, admiring it, enjoying how his eyelashes that caught the firelight framed the bridge of it on either side.

And about twenty seconds later, he'd broken it.

It wasn't Hosea's fault that the big idiot hadn't expected him to swing back to his shove.

“Lemme see it,” he murmurs, and for the second time in one night, hallelujah, heavens be, Dutch listens.

It's honestly not bad. Not that bad, anyway. There'll be a bump there, probably, one he'll carry for the rest of his life but Dutch has always had a strong nose, and it'll suit his features just fine. It'll heal alright too, and Hosea says as much, but Dutch only scoffs.

“Then hurry up n' do it.”

He tries. The second he touches it, swollen and bloodied, Dutch yelps so loud his voice cracks. His own hand flies to Hosea's wrist, clammy but strong.

“You want it fixed or not?”

“Yes!” Dutch barks, knitting his brows together in agony. “Goddamn you, Hosea, I could kill you right now.”

“Lemme fix it, then you can load as many bullets into me as you like,” Hosea spits back in return. At the moment, the bullets sound preferable to another minute of listening to a grown man whine. He picks off Dutch's hand and moves it to his thigh, figuring it'd be better to squeeze anyway, and squeeze he does, God.

With Dutch's nails digging so hard he can feel each individual slice through his jeans, Hosea gets to work.

It's a quick job, made longer by the way Dutch keeps flinching away from him and swearing. Once it's reset, bone cracking under the slope of his fingers as Hosea draws them down, he takes off his own neckerchief and rips it into strips. One goes in either nostril, an action that makes Dutch audibly groan and draw away–

Hosea chases him with a kiss, holds him still with two hands, and swallows the pained grunt of protest Dutch emits when their noses bump.

“Hurts,” he whines against Hosea’s mouth.

“I know,” Hosea says, and kisses him again.

It's as good of an apology as Hosea will give, and Dutch takes it.

[fairysylveon]

Directionless Tim idea. Tim would have to know about the Jack AI first. He personally doesn't know any of the Tftbl new protagonists. The Jack AI is not public knowledge. Employees at Helios saw it but most died during the crash, the children of Helios died before bl3 ( which I still think was a stupid idea). The most logical choice would be Athena seeing as she was in both tps and tftbl. But did she ever learn about its existence?

Even if she did and for some reason told Tim, how would Tim learn that Rhys had the AI in his head, kept it and stored it at Atlas?

hm good point... I don't remember if I've ever considered that before or not (I FEEL like I've thought 'how would he know ' before but this au is so old in my head that I truly don't remember) but unfortunately if I did I just... never found an answer

I'M SORRYYY that's such an unsatisfying answer to give you and that sucks because I want to give good answers to asks, but unfortunately the answer is ultimately "I don't know" )':

[bronzealchemy]

just keep falling, part 2

⋆. 𐙚˚ you don’t want to feel the pain of calebs loss, so gideon takes your mind off it

a year has passed since the explosion. gideon and you went to the flower shop to get a bouquet and stood at calebs grave, side by side. your throat closed up at the sight of his name, engraved in the grey stone. and as his name burned into your mind, all of the memories the two of you shared rose up inside you. you let out a stifled sob, to which gideon immediately put an arm around you. you shook your head and took a step to the side. immense guilt washed over you, while you looked at the grave of the man you loved so deeply, that a part of your soul died with him in that explosion. gideon seemed to know what was going on, even though he was tense beside you. you kneeled in front of calebs grave, putting the flowers down. soft pink and white camellias, which stood for love and devotion. how utterly hypocritical of you. just a few nights ago, calebs best friend made you whimper until you completely fell apart under him. and now? you cried in front of his grave, as if you weren’t the most shameful, stupid …

„stop it.“ gideons voice sounded stern. 

you looked up at him. his body was shielding the sun; it looked as if a halo was around his dark head of hair. „stop what?“

he crouched down next to you. „you’re talking bad to yourself again and I don’t like it. so stop.“ 

there was a lump in your throat that kept you from answering him. but it wasn’t necessary anyway – gideon cupped your face and softly grazed your skin with his thumb. suddenly your cheeks felt flush, even though they were still wet from the tears. „come on now“, he said. „lets go home.“ 

back at his apartment, gideon never left your side. he stayed with you, ordered food and even tried to feed you. „open up“, he said in his deep voice, while holding the spoon full of rice and steamed veggies in front of your mouth. just a few nights ago, he said the exact same words to you, but in a different context entirely. you were on your knees then, looking up at him, while he opened his belt ever so slowly. his eyes were so dark in that moment, they almost seemed black. with heat creeping into your cheeks at the sinful memory, you opened your mouth and took the food he offered. „good girl“, he murmured. 

„are you doing this on purpose?“, you inquired. 

his brows rose. „what exactly?“

„talking to me like when you fucked me.“ 

now he was the one blushing. „I … sorry.“

„don’t apologize.“ you took the spoon out of his hand and laid it on the table. then you scooched closer to him. „it reminds me how easily you can make me forget. and at the moment, I really don’t want to feel this pain.“

gideons hands gripped your hips as you straddled him. his face was tormented, even though he held you close. „are you sure?“

you nod. „we can eat afterwards. you won’t even have to feed me.“

that made him smile a little. before you knew what was happening, he ripped your dress open, revealing your lace-trimmed bra underneath. there, between your breasts, rested calebs dog tags. the only thing that was left of him and the one thing, you never let go of. gideon raised his hand, softly grazing the cool metal with his fingers. you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. he leaned forward, pushing the dog tags to the side, kissing your skin, kneading your breasts with his hands, making a whimper escape your lips. when he kissed you, all your dark thoughts were silenced – there was only room for gideon and the fire that rose between the two of you. it didn’t take long for him to be inside you. you moved on top of him, riding him hard and fast, enjoying the soft stings of pain when he went in too deep. 

„give it to me“, he said between sharp breaths. „just like that, baby. just like that …“ 

when you came, you bit his shoulder hard enough to cause a bruise. but gideon didn’t mind. in fact, he gripped you so forceful that his fingerprints lingered on your ass long after the two of you were done. you could feel him on you until the next morning when you woke up, stretching your aching arms over your head. you blinked. then you froze, your heart stumbling in your chest. 

there were petals scattered all over the bed and gideons bedroom floor. soft pink and white petals, that looked exactly like the ones you had left at calebs grave. 

[alchemistc]

favors

Tommy's the kind of asshole who checks his phone at the table in the middle of a first date, now.

In his defence, it hasn't been a great first date. And not in any sort of charming way, either.

In his defence, he's been waiting on this text for what feels like longer than it actually has been (four weeks, three days - he feels stupid admitting he's got a rough estimate of the hours too, but the point is he's been waiting. Hoping. Took this invitation to dinner as an attempt to remind himself he was the one who walked out.)

Tommy is absolutely the kind of asshole who glances up from his lap to find his date staring at him with his jaw clenched and doesn't bother to make more of an excuse than "Sorry, family thing, I gotta go."

Tommy's the kind of asshole who drops three twenties on the table and doesn't bother to say goodbye as he winds his way through tables - this place was pretentious as fuck, anyway - and pushes through the rotating door.

He's not even halfway to his truck when his phone displays an incoming call.

The last time he'd seen that name flash across his screen he'd been - well, he'd been a ball of nerves for all of five seconds before a winded voice had asked him to commit some light treason and Tommy had hopped to.

"Evan. Hey."

He remembers Evan had always thought he was so cool, and he sort of wishes Evan could see him now, with sweaty palms and a nervous hitch to his step as he twists around the wire fencing that will lead him to the truck he'd dropped thirty-five bucks to park, in this stupid downtown lot for this stupid date that hadn't distracted him for a minute at the stupid restaurant that only served tapas and hipster whiskey.

His voice is a little tremulous, a little off. "Hi Tommy."

Tommy doesn't waste time. He's done enough of that, and Evan sounds - Jesus he sounds awful. Sad, deep in his bones. Tired. A little out of it. "Everything okay?"

"I did have feelings for you. When I said that. I - It was such a shitty thing to say and I realized I never apologized for it even though I meant to and...and I did. I do, still, really."

It's the kind of opening Tommy couldn't have dreamt up in a million years. It's solid proof that Evan has worked it over in his mind at least half as many times as Tommy, trying to figure out where it all went wrong, how he'd ruined it so quickly when everything he'd been a sad sack about pretending he didn't want had been right there, ready for the taking. When he'd done that devastating bambi-eyed, through the lashes glance up, even though they were the same fucking height, and Tommy had stuck his foot in his mouth so badly he'd knocked out a couple teeth.

"Okay. I -."

Whatever he'd have come up with in that moment escapes his brain a second later when Evan continues.

"Which is why what I wanted to ask you may be, like, super awkward."

Tommy's a little grateful to find his truck is only two spaces from where he is at the moment. Has to bite back the sharp deprecating laugh when he realizes this is another fucking favor, not a goddamn reconciliation. He left a date for this.

A bad one.

But still.

"Okay." Clipped is a good term for the way the word comes out of his mouth. He's already wincing before he's even finished saying it, because if he can tell Evan's hurting from his voice alone, surely Evan can tell from his own tone that he's...annoyed. In pain. Wishing he could rip the memory of Evan Buckley from the spot it's nestled beneath his ribcage, where he can't shake it loose.

Evan's quiet for a long, long moment. They'd been great at getting immediately horny any time there was even a hint of strife. Not so easy to do when they haven't been together now for longer than they ever were. "I was wondering if I could borrow your truck on Tuesday."

And that's - that's a fairly reasonable request, as far as the 118 standard goes. Still makes him want to cry, a little.

"Can I ask why?"

"It's... Uh...?" The pause lasts long enough that Tommy has to check and make sure Evan's still on the line. His next words are quieter, but he can hear the tremble in them. Has to bite down the urge to make himself a shield against whatever it is that has him so emotional. Not his job, anymore. If it ever even had been.

The farther removed he is from all of this, the more he wonders if he really had imagined the connection between them. How the intimate moments felt charged with more than a desire to rip each other's clothes off, how the silly moments had felt like the prologue of a long and happy story.

"It's fine, Evan. I'll, uh - have to check my schedule but I think I can make it work."

He's free Tuesday. He and his truck both are. But maybe... Maybe this has run its course. Maybe Tommy will have to make more of an effort, his next bad first date.

"Eddie's moving back," Evan says, and there's a weird twist to his voice, a quirk around the name Tommy doesn't recognize. He'd always said "Eddie" with the kind of reverence Tommy couldn't fully grasp, a superhero and a confidante all rolled up in the lazy smirk and cow-brown eyes of a man Tommy had no hope of beating out on the Important To Evan Buckley scale. But if Tommy had to put a description to it, Evan kind of spits the name, now. "And until I can figure out a place to stay I need to get a few things in storage quickly. I just thought - it was stupid. Obviously it's short notice, and you shouldn't feel obligated to -."

"My spare room is empty," Tommy says. Tommy lies, more accurately. It's currently storing all the renovation shit he's been accumulating since the breakup turned him into an insane person pretending he knows a damn thing about fixing up a house.

This pause seems to hold a little more weight to it.

"...okay?" And there's - there's something there, in his voice, sun warm and yellow, bacon cooling on a paper towel and eggs still not plated while Evan swallowed and asked the one question Tommy had been hoping he wouldn't ask.

"I just meant - why spend the money on a storage unit, right?"

"Tommy."

"Let me check my schedule. I can get back to you. If Tuesday works, we can just - we can figure it out from there."

"Tommy."

And that's his "you're spiralling" voice. Tommy hadn't heard it often. Too busy trying to be as cool as his shiny new boyfriend thought he was. Too busy choking down the urge to sink a knife into his ribcage and carve out his heart to hand it over.

"I'll let you know by tomorrow morning," Tommy promises, and before he lets his words get away from him he ends the call.

Jesus fuck.

Hell.

What the fuck?

---

Tommy's so frayed with nerves he spends the entire drive slowly wearing a groove into the side of his cheek. By the time he makes it to the quiet street and sees Evan's Jeep parked on the curb, gate open and already stuffed full of boxes Tetris-style, he feels like he might just fucking explode.

It makes the terse, perfunctory head nod from Eddie on his way up the paved path just that much more confusing. That much more frustrating. He's got a set of keys swinging from his fingers, and doesn't even glance behind him as Evan pops the door open with a hip and stacks a box on top of two others already sitting in the porch.

There's clearly more going on here than Tommy is privy to.

"You aren't helping?" It's an innocent question. He doesn't even mean anything by it. Across the yard, Evan goes tense. Halfway down the drive, Eddie goes still, and swivels his gaze to Tommy.

"No one asked me to." By the stoop, Evan tips his gaze down, suddenly incredibly interested in whatever the label on the box he just set down says. He seems small. Not the man who'd guided him backwards up the lawn with so much tongue Tommy hadn't realized where he was until they were already inside. Not the man who'd confidently held a funeral for a long dead cowboy and roped Tommy into it without a care in the world that Tommy didn't believe in ghosts.

"Well, if anyone else was subletting you'd probably have had to give them more than a weeks notice to pack up their shit and leave, so I figured you'd be helping," Tommy says, because whatever the hell is going on with Eddie's face right now has him ready to raise locked wrists to chin height.

Eddie's tongue rolls along the inside of his cheek. "Buck says he's got it."

Knife, meet tension.

Tommy's always been more of a blunt instrument.

"Right."

"Didn't realize 'got it' meant calling in a favor with his ex, but hey, I haven't been around, in a while."

"Do we have a problem, Diaz?"

Eddie levers himself into the driver's seat of a vehicle that very distinctly isn't his truck. "Lot of that going around, at the moment."

That stone-faced look from the funeral is back on Evan's face.

Tommy's fist are clenched. He doesn't have a clue when that happened, or why it takes quite so much effort to shake his fingers loose.

Eddie clocks it. Stares for a long, long moment. Slams the door closed and backs out of the drive a little quicker than advisable, if the glare from the neighbor watering her hydrangeas is anything to go by.

He doesn't quite peel off down the street, but it seems like it takes him some effort to drive like a responsible adult.

Evan doesn't meet his gaze when he lopes across the lawn to meet him at the door.

He's gotta break the silence somehow. "So. Diaz seems pissed at me."

"It's not you."

"Uhuh."

"It's - I said something he -." Evan frowns. Twists a finger up into the slack of the tape along the top of one box. "Same old story. Buck makes it all about himself."

Tommy's missing something.

Tommy absolutely doesn't have the right to pry.

"What the hell does that mean?" Tommy asks, and watches the marble crumble.

---

It takes a day and a half to get everything out of Eddie's. Another half a day to stuff whatever they can into Tommy's bare spare room.

He'd bought a shed and stuffed the contents of his reno-supplies into it indiscriminately two nights earlier, at the ass end of three 24's from hell, and throws up an ironic thanks that Evan hadn't come by nearly often enough to be surprised by the new shed, or the dozen half-finished projects littering the house.

Tommy learns a lot of things that make him want to scream, over the course of the four-day span they squeeze that moving timeframe into.

It takes everything in him not to shoulder-check Eddie on the way out, once the final box is loaded into the bed of Tommy's truck.

He'd given them some privacy, before they left. Hopeful that Eddie would back down from this escalating argument of theirs, hopeful that he'd remember that his best fucking friend had sacrificed a hell of a lot, to allow him to move to El Paso. That he'd lost more since.

Evan hadn't spoken, the entire drive back to Tommy's.

He asks Evan out to coffee a moment before he offers to let him sleep on the couch until he finds something more permanent.

He should be less surprised than he is when they end up naked and sweaty and panting in his bed an hour later.

"We have to stop doing this."

Evan bites a nipple, and Tommy hisses.

"I'm serious, Evan. I can't do casual with you."

That gives him Evan's full attention. "What does that mean?"

"It means when I sleep with you I'm definitely having feelings for you."

He regrets the comment. Evan blows a raspberry into his sternum, and rolls onto his side to take in Tommy's expression. It's gotta be - well, it's gotta be a fucking mess. Just an absolute shit show of terror at having revealed too much. "I deserved that one."

Tommy smooths a hand over his shoulder. "You didn't, actually." After what he's been hearing about his friends and family, lately, Tommy's suddenly very aware of the words coming out of his mouth. "What I was trying to dance around is telling you I want to try again, and I don't want to fuck it up by falling into bed without actually...talking about it."

Evan snorts. Hitches his leg a little higher across Tommy's thigh. Yeah. Too late for that.

"I baked, to stop thinking about you. I baked cookies, and brownies, and three kinds of bread, and a Baked Alaska, and twelve different banana bread recipes, and - and it didn't change the fact that all I wanted to do was talk to you. See your face when you pull that stupidly bitchy look every time I don't know one of your references. Hold your hand and - and just be somewhere with you. Didn't matter where, I just...wanted. And I couldn't have it. So I baked."

"You made a Baked Alaska?"

"Tommy," Evan chides, but there are tears springing to the corner of Tommy's eyes and -

God he'd fucked this up so royally.

"Move in with me," Tommy says, the hysteria bubbling up in his throat, and he swallows it down, and down, and down again, because as the words settle under his skin, he realizes they feel right. What Evan had wanted, all those months ago, he'd wanted it too. He'd just been so fucking sure it would destroy him, in the end.

He's so goddamn tired of denying that what he really wants is for the rest of his life to be storied by memories of the man at his side, right here in this moment.

It's terrible timing. The worst idea. They're both rung out emotionally, grief and anger and insecurities bubbling just under the surface, ready to rise and make their lives miserable the moment they leave this bubble.

They haven't talked about any of it, not really.

"I'm serious. Why be apart, and all that?"

"Tommy."

The way his name curls out of Evan Buckley's mouth is like a favorite song. He never gets tired of hearing it.

Even when it's exasperated and confused. "I'm in love with you," Tommy murmurs, because his streak of insanity clearly hasn't passed. Evan's breath hitches. The worst part is that it's true. In a way he doesn't know how to quantify. He'd do a hell of a lot more than steal government property, for this man. He'd stay, for this man, at the risk of destroying his entire soul.

"Don't ask me because you feel sorry I'm technically homeless." It's an out. Teed up and ready for Tommy to swing. Tommy goes for the bunt.

"Pretty sure that was more of a demand than a question. You can say no."

Evan peeks through his lashes, chin tipped against Tommy's chest. "What if you change your mind?"

Well. That's a sore subject. Should have expected that.

Tommy slips a hand down his side. Gathers up his hand to slide their fingers together. "I won't. Believe me, at this point I've tried."

There's a quirk to Evans smile he hasn't seen in a long time. He's missed it. God, he's missed it.

This doesn't fix anything. Not a damn thing.

But Tommy doesn't want him to spend a single night going forward wondering whether or not he's worth all the trouble the rest of his family seems to have made him feel he is.

They'd been there, before. Right on the edge of something serious. Something permanent.

They can get it back.

"You're being serious," Evan comments, like he needs the confirmation just to make sure he's not hallucinating. Tommy hooks one of his legs, rolls until Evan is half under him.

"Baked Alaska serious," he intones, just to see Evan laugh.

"Where am I gonna put my bike rack?" he asks, after a serious, weighty pause, and Tommy presses in to suck Evans lower lip between his teeth in retaliation.

[heavenbarnes]

older bf!simon is always the one in control so sometimes i need to write him pathetic! (afab!reader described as wearing a dress and heels)

there’s an alternative universe out there where you make older bf!simon work for it

“i’m sorry i didn’t come back w’you that night”

he was embarrassed, his cheeks were pink and he was missing the balaclava that usually hid all changes in expression

but he’d managed to turn up on your doorstep to ply you with apologies and he looked so sweet dwarfing your lounge suite

“it’s alright, simon - i don’t mind the wait”

“it’s not that i didn’t want ye’, promise, i just-”

he cut himself off, let the words hang like ripe fruit that you didn’t even have to pick to know how sweet they taste

instead, you bridged the small gap across the couch and let your hand fall on his shoulder

“it’s okay, i know it can be a bit overwhelming”

he sighed a shaky wee exhale like it felt really nice to be understood, if not totally terrifying all the same

“ye’ don’t know how bad i wanted to, ye’ looked so bloody good”

you snorted a little breath through your nose, running your fingernails along the top of his shoulder

“i know”

he let the silence take over the room, you knew good and well there was something he wanted so badly to say

and you’d wait a lifetime just to hear him beg

“can ye’ please tell me”

it was so quiet, you could’ve missed it

but you didn’t

“tell you what?”

wait a lifetime

“tell me what’d you’d have done if we’d gone back there”

your lips curled in a smile, something wicked and heady

something that said you’d struck gold

ease him in

slow and steady

“i’d sit you back in the chair, put you right where i wanted you”

even through his shirt, you could feel his skin prickle as you ran your nails towards his chest

“i’d take off those heels, the ones you’d been staring at all night”

as much as you’d expected him to go rigid, you could feel him melting beside you

“i’d reach for the back of my dress, undo it so it just slips off my shoulders and let it pool on the floor around my ankles”

“run my hands up my chest, over my perfect tits, the ones you’d also been staring at”

simon’s breath caught him in his chest, your fingers running over his pec where you lightly traced the smallest lines

“pinch my nipples, show you how hard they were, how hard they’d been since i first saw you”

his eyes screwed closed, a deep breath expanding his in chest under your touch

“really, since i first knew you’d be there that night”

“then i’d turn around, put my back to you, and slip my fingers under the band of my little panties”

simon fought to pry his eyes open, darting straight to your fingers

he knew a look in your eyes was a death wish

“they’re so little, simon, honestly i could’ve probably torn them with a fingernail”

and you might just kill him anway

“you definitely could’ve”

there it was

like he’d tried to keep it in, a broken moan slipped from his throat- between the lips he was worrying with his teeth

“but i’d slide them down my legs, bend over so you could see them fall, and i’d turn around so you could get a good look, see my perfect little cunt”

“soft, warm, tight, and wet”

simon had been half hard since you’d opened the door

now? he thought the rush of blood might knock him out

“wet since you first placed your hand on my back when you were being all polite”

it was like he could still feel where his hand had been, like he’d never had the chance to hold something so soft

“you’d be able to smell it on my panties, so i’d hand them to you”

simon was acutely aware of the way your hand was slowly drifting down the firm lines of his stomach

“tell you to keep those, you could sniff them, lay them on your face when you’re tugging that thick cock and thinking of me”

in his lap, you ran your fingers along his thigh until they wrapped around his cock

“maybe taste them a little, or even wrap them around your cock”

his hips shot up, straight into your hand as he tipped his head back onto the couch

a pathetic whine ripped straight from his chest

“cum all over them, ruin them and give them back to me when you inevitably see me again”

you slowly ran your fingers along the length of him

rock fucking solid

“and i could give you your next pair”

you slowed down, gently stroking him through his trousers as his breathing evened out

couldn’t have you stopping his poor heart

he was the first to break

“then what?”

that smile crept back onto your face, catching the sight of his strained expression

it’s the devil you know

“hmm, i think i’d sit in your lap”

his thighs tensed, involuntarily but bordering on inviting

“feel that hard cock that’s been straining in your briefs”

squeezing it again, through two layers you could feel the small patch of wetness spreading under your thumb

“you might be older than me but you’re not too old, are you?”

he could hear the teasing in your voice, running a large hand down his face

dirty old bastard

“rub my hot wet little cunt all over your trousers, make a mess all over them”

simon’s hips were rolling under your hand, pushing the length of his cock up into your palm

clipped breath and tight chest

you didn’t have to be a genius to know what comes next

“got to ease you into it, know it’s been a long time since you got yourself into something this tight, don’t want you blowing your top”

his breaths became vocal, the quietest little whimpers told you exactly where you had him

right on the precipice

his hand wrapped tight around your wrist as he all but humped your hand

you let go

“just yet”

[goquokka00]

SKZ vs Shark Week (Minho ver.)

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

BANGCHAN | MINHO | CHANGBIN | HYUNJIN JISUNG | FELIX | SEUNGMIN | JEONGIN

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 When your period is close to arriving, it's very safe to say that you become an absolute nightmare. Even Minho thinks so. Your mood swings are seriously no joke, and so when you woke up crying only to yell at Minho for no reason, Minho knew that your period was close. Oh, joy.

The issue with this is that one itty bitty slip up from Minho would just send wave after wave of emotion, and Minho barely had time to recover before the next switch. If he accidentally brushes his hand against your chest, it's game over. He's getting chewed out about how he's always trying to have sex, and then the next minute your in tears because you feel bad about yelling at him.

So, how does Minho help you? He can't. There's no saving you. All he can do is just take blow after blow, apologize for something that really wasn't a big deal, listen, and comfort you. Carefully. He knew it wasn't you and it was just hormones. He could just pick at you after your period was done.

THE BLOOD God, you think your mood swings are bad? Your flow is worse. You only bleed for 3 days, but holy hell, you bled and you bled HARD. A lot of times, you were on the toilet for the majority of the day because your flow was so bad. And when you weren't, you had to wear a heavy duty pad and a heavy duty tampon. Fucking sucks.

Minho, understanding this, usually does his best to support you. Sometimes, if you're in the bathroom on the toilet just to let blood drain, he'll come in and play games with you. If you don't want him in the bathroom, you and him will do local play video games so you aren't completely alone. And if you're walking around, he'll set up small dates for you both to do at home since you'd rather die than go out in public when your uterus is ripping itself to shreds and making a tidal wave of blood.

THE PAIN Thankfully, you don't deal with too much pain. God decided to have some mercy. Key word? Some. While you didn't deal with pain, you did deal with constipation, bloating, and extreme nausea. It...it was bad.

So what does Minho do? First, he makes sure you're drinking enough. He'll also make sure you eat at least something. He knows that you genuinely don't feel good and are really queasy until your period eases it's choke hold on you, and so he doesn't force you to eat a bunch. But he'll still give you some rice and eggs or foods that'll stick in you instead of making you feel like throwing up.

And once your nausea and bloating is gone, he'll make you whatever you're craving, making sure that the food will also help your intestines loosen up so you aren't uncomfortable when you sit down or move around.

THE PRODUCT There's not a whole lot that Minho can do for you on your period. It kills him every single time, and so he'll always help wherever he can. And if that means running to the store to get you what you need? He's on it.

He knows exactly what you prefer and use, and so he will make sure to buy a lot of it since you go through it quickly. There's zero complaining, zero whining, zero teasing. He's doing whatever he can so you suffer less.

And of course, he's getting anything else that you ask for as well. You want a coffee from a place that's 30 minutes away? Bet, he'll happily go and get it for you. You want croissants? He'll make them from scratch. You want Felix's brownies? Well, Felix is coming over to bake them right here for you. Simple as that.

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

[magic-shop-stories]

how would bts react to reader taking off their ring after an argument?

💌 Reply:

first (as always)... THANK YOU for this achingly human request. I hope these headcanons carried what you wanted 🥺 And I am so so sorry for the late reply!  Life decided to get wildly ironic... because I wrote this while sittin in our vacation house bedroom on bf's parents’ 25th wedding anniversary trip 😭 If this resonated (or hurt just right), my DMs are open. Always.... — c —🌙

BTS Reacting to You Taking Off Your Ring After an Argument

Pairings: BTS(solo) x reader Rating: PG (13) up to R (emotionally heavy conflict, marital strife, swearing) Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, romance, fluff Warnings: marital conflict, emotional breakdowns, abandonment fears, (self-harm implications), manipulative behavior, panic attacks/anxiety

KIM NAMJOON

HOW IT HAPPENS

after a brutal fight

= one of those rare but seismic clashes where your words land like stones

his rebuttals are too measured, too logical

that only fuels your frustration

you storm out to cool off

when you return hours later, you slip off your ring and leave it on the kitchen counter like a surrender

Namjoon notices immediately

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

his breath hitches

his fingers, which had been flipping through a book, still

the air in the room shifts (thick, charged)

Verbal

he doesn’t yell

he doesn’t even speak

just stares at the ring like it’s a puzzle he can’t solve

“You took it off.” 

his voice is low

frayed at the edges

it's not accusatory

just hollow

HIS THOUGHTS

First “Did I push her to this? Was I too cold? Too rational?”

Second “Is this it? Is she leaving?”

his chest tightens at the thought

Third “No. No, we can fix this. We have to.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Retreats to His Study

tho not to ignore you

it's to process

he journals frantically

= pages filled with half-formed thoughts:

“Love isn’t a debate. Why did I treat it like one?” “I can’t lose her. Not like this.”

Leaves You Space

doesn’t chase

doesn’t bombard you with texts

doesn’t leave the house either

just lingers in the periphery

like a quiet presence

Note

slides a handwritten letter under your door

not as an apology

as a promise:

“I don’t know how to fight for you with words that don’t sound like lectures. But I know this: I’d rather lose every argument than lose you. The ring is just metal. You’re the treasure. — Joon”

HOW HE MAKES AMENDS

Ring’s Return

finds you curled on the couch at dawn

kneels in front of you

ring pinched between his fingers

“Let me?”

his voice cracks

if you let him, he’ll slide it back on

his thumb brushing your knuckle like a prayer

Changed Behavior

starts asking how you feel before diving into logic

leaves his debates for the bookshelf

Symbolic Gesture

buys a chain and wears his own ring around his neck

“So I never forget what matters.”

KIM SEOKJIN (JIN)

HOW IT HAPPENS

it starts over something stupid

maybe you accused him of forgetting your anniversary

plot: he didn’t; he’s just bad at hiding surprises, or maybe really good

his sarcasm escalates it

before you know it, you’re yelling

“You never take anything seriously!” 

he fires back

“Oh, I’m deadly serious... about how ridiculous you’re being!”

you rip off your ring mid-sentence and slam it on the coffee table

the metallic clink cuts through the room like a gunshot

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

his smirk freeze

his hands, which had been gesturing dramatically, drop to his sides

Verbal

sharp, humorless laugh

“Wow. Okay. Dramatic.” 

his voice is too tight, his jaw clenched

HIS THOUGHTS

First “Shit. Did I push too far?”

Second “She actually took it off. Is she… done?” 

his stomach lurches

Third “Nope. Nope. We’re fixing this.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Deflection Mode

turns on the TV too loud

pretending to watch a drama

“Oh, this is a good part... look, the main couple is fighting too! See? Normal!”

Late-Night Surrender

at 3 AM

he barges into the bedroom

you’re pretending to sleep

flicks on the light

“Yah. Look at me.” 

his eyes are red-rimmed

his hair a mess

“You win. Just… put the damn ring back on.”

Peace Offering

drops a velvet box on the nightstand

inside a new ring

this one with a tiny diamond

“The old one was ‘pre-argument’ jewelry. This one’s post-argument. Upgraded.”

WHAT HE SAYS

Defensive “You’re really gonna let one fight undo years of my flawless husbandry?”

Vulnerable (Rare) “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll… I’ll be less me.” 

he doesn’t mean it

Playful (Recovery) “Also, the new ring is non-refundable. So. Legally, you have to stay.”

HOW HE MAKES AMENDS

Overcompensates

plans a ridiculous “re-anniversary” date

= horse-drawn carriage, rose petals,

“Happy Not-The-Day-I-Pissed-You-Off!”

Learns to Listen

starts asking stuff

“Wait... are we actually fighting, or are you just moody?” 

Secret Insecurity

starts wearing his ring even in public

MIN YOONGI (SUGA)

HOW IT HAPPENS

early in your marriage

maybe six months in

the honeymoon phase crashes into reality

Yoongi’s been buried in the studio for days

he is ignoring texts, forgetting anniversaries

even snapping when you ask for one dinner together

he came home at 3 AM to find you waiting

hurt simmering into anger

the fight is ugly

You: “You care more about your songs than me!” Him: “I’m working! Why can’t you understand that?” 

voice like gravel

eyes blazing

you yank off your expensive ring mid-sentence

slamming it onto the coffee table

the clink echoes like a gunshot

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

his whole body locks up

his hands curl into fists

veins stark against his pale skin

studio-light glare from his laptop paints his face in harsh shadows

Verbal

a sharp, wounded noise escapes him

speaks coldly

“Fine. Do that.”

turns away

his shoulders are rigid

HIS THOUGHTS

White-Hot Fury “She’s giving up? Just like that?” 

mad at you, at himself, at the damn ring for existing

Self-Loathing “I knew I’d fuck this up. Knew it.”

Panic

“Is this over? Is she leaving?” 

his stomach drops

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Storm-Out

grabs his keys

heads for the door

stops halfway, slamming his palm into the wall

“Fuck.”

Studio Meltdown

drives to HYBE

trashes a demo out of sheer frustration

leter sits on the floor, head in hands

texts you: “Come get me. Please.” 

deletes it

sends instead thet he is at the studio

Breaking Point

when you do show up (because you always do)

he’s a mess

red-eyed, hair wild, voice raw.

“I don’t know how to do this. The… the marriage thing.”

HOW YOU BOTH COME BACK TOGETHER

you stand in the doorway

arms crossed

ring still absent

“You don’t get to run. Ever.”

he chokes out a laugh, wet and broken

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

he reaches for you

fingers trembling

“I’m trying. But I need you to... fuck...” 

his voice cracks

“Just. Don’t take it off again.”

you cry

he cries... YES

it’s messy and real and therapeutic

AFTERMATH

New Rules

he sets alarms for “Wife Time” on his phone

you agree to “No Ring Removal” as a nuclear option

The Ring’s Return

he slides it back onto your finger himself

lips brushing your knuckle

“Mine, even when I’m an idiot.”

Growth

starts leaving the studio at midnight no matter what

texts you lyrics instead of apologies

“You’re my bridge. Without you, the song falls apart.”

JUNG HOSEOK (J-HOPE)

HOW IT HAPPENS

fight starts over something stupid

maybe he canceled plans for work again

or you snapped about his relentless optimism when you just needed to vent

it escalates

for once, his sunshine dims

he shouts

you shout back

when the dust settles, you twist off your ring and set it on the nightstand with a quiet clink

he freezes mid-sentence

his expression drops like a stone

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

his hands fly to his mouth

muffling a noise that’s half-gasp, half-sob

tears well up instantly

= big, glistening ones that spill over before he can stop them

“Y-You… you took it off?”

Verbal

voice cracking

high-pitched with panic

“No, no, no... hey, hey, we can fix this! Please!”

HIS THOUGHTS

First “I broke us. I did this.” 

cue internal screaming

Second “How do I fix it? What do I do?”

his brain is short-circuiting into overdrive

Third “Anything. I’ll do anything.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Breakdown

sobs into his hands for a solid minute

shoulders shaking

like a switch flips

he springs into action

Grand Gesture

floods the room with roses

like, obscenely many

every color

bed looks like a florist exploded

orders your favorite food

even if it’s 3 AM

he has to beg a restaurant to reopen

“Extra spicy, extra cheese... whatever she wants!”

spa mode

draws a bubble bath with excessive petals

lights every candle in the house

plays his “Chill Vibes” playlist

“Just... just relax! I’ll massage your feet! Your back! Your soul!”

Pleading

kneels by the tub

eyes red-rimmed

holding the ring out like a sacred offering

“I’ll be better. I promise. Just… put it back on. Please.”

WHAT HE SAYS:

Desperate “I’ll quit the tour. I’ll... I’ll retire! Just talk to me!”

he doesn’t mean it

he thinks he does in the moment

Raw “You’re my person. Without you, I’m just… noise.”

Hopeful “Let’s start over. Right now. Hi, I’m Jung Hoseok. Will you marry me? Again?”

AFTERMATH

Clingy for Days

fllows you around like a puppy 

“Do you need water? A hug? A song?”

Overcompensates

turns into a mind reader

brings you coffee before you wake up

texts hourly “I love you” updates

Real Change

starts asking things

“Do you need me to listen or fix it?” 

then diving into cheerleader mode

PARK JIMIN

HOW IT HAPPENS

the fight is ugly

you both say words like "You never listen!" and "I can’t do this anymore!" 

throwinf them like knives

he is usually so gentle

matches your intensity with his own

his voice cracking with frustration

you storm out

he doesn’t follow

you return hours later

you slide off your ring, leaving it on the nightstand like a white flag

Jimin sees it immediately

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

his breath stutters

tears well up instantly

he doesn’t wipe them away

just stares at the ring like it’s a grenade

"You... you took it off?" 

his voice is small, shattered

Emotional

whirlwind of guilt and fear

"Did I push too hard? Did I break us?"

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Silent Breakdown

sinks to the floor beside the bed

knees pulled to his chest

presses his palms to his eyes

shoulders shaking

"Fuck. Fuck."

Relentless Texts (If You Left)

"Please come home." "I didn’t mean any of it. None of it." "I’ll wait all night."

Raw Apology (If You Stayed)

crawls into bed beside you

not touching, just to be there

voice raw

"I hate myself for making you feel like you had to do that."

HOW HE MAKES AMENDS

Ring’s Return

when you finally face each other

he cradles your hand

pressing the ring into your palm

"Put it back when you’re ready. Or don’t. But I’m not going anywhere."

Touch as Truce

brushes your tears away with his thumbs

"I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

if you let him, he’ll pull you into his lap

arms locked around you like a vow

"We’re okay. We’re always okay."

Changed Behavior

starts asking "Are we good?" after minor spats

needs reassurance

leaves sticky notes: "Today’s reminder: I adore you. Even when I’m stupid."

KIM TAEHYUNG (V)

HOW IT HAPPENS

fight starts over something trivial

maybe you criticized his impulsive plan to road-trip to Busan at 2 AM

or he forgot (again) to tell you about a last-minute photoshoot

it escalates

words sharpening like knives.

he hates confrontation, especially with you

deflects with humor until you snap

“You don’t take anything seriously!”

that’s when you yank off your ring and toss it onto the dresser with a clatter

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

his entire body freezes

his playful smirk drops like a stone

he looks scared

Verbal

sharp, wounded laugh

“Wow. Okay. So we’re here now.” 

his voice is light

his hands are fists at his sides

HIS THOUGHTS

First “She’s really doing this. After everything?”

his mind flashes to lazy Sundays

to the way he always kisses that ring before leaving for work

Second “Fine. If she wants to play that game...”

it's his anger

= theatrical, all-or-nothing

Third  “…Wait. No. This isn’t a game.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Grand Exit

grabs his keys and stalks out

slamming the door

drives to Han River and screams into the sunset like a K-drama hero

Symbolic Gesture

texts you a photo of his ring in his palm

captioned: “Should I throw it in the water? Be dramatic like you?” 

he won’t

he wants you to panic a little

Return:

comes home with two new rings

thicker, engraved with “Yours, Idiot” and “Mine, Dummy”

drops them on the bed

“Pick one. Or don’t. But I’m not going anywhere.”

HOW HE MAKES AMENDS

Apology

doesn’t say “I’m sorry.” 

he cooks your favorite meal (burning half of it)

plays your song on saxophone off-key

“Happy fake anniversary.”

= it’s not your anniversary; that’s the point

Promise

wears both rings on a chain for a week

“So you see I mean it.”

Growth

starts leaving Post-its with “I’ll be back at 8” or “Don’t wait up"

his little ways to say “I’m trying.”

JEON JUNGKOOK

HOW IT HAPPENS

the fight was bad, like ugly bad

= the kind that’s been brewing for months

maybe the marriage was rushed

= fans’ backlash, his chaotic schedule, your quiet resentment

when you finally snap and fling your ring onto the hotel bathroom counter

the clink echoes like a gunshot, even worse

Jungkook freezes mid-pace

muscles coiled

“What the fuck was that?”

HIS IMMEDIATE REACTION

Physical

he’s across the room in two strides

snatching the ring like it’s a lifeline

his knuckles whiten around it

“No. No. You don’t get to do this.”

Emotional

anger flares first

always, because fear wears his rage like armor

“You promised! We fought for this!” 

his voice is raw

HIS THOUGHTS

First “Was it the fans? The hate comments? Did I fail her?”

Second “I’ll delete everythinf. I’ll quit the group. Fuck it all.”

Third “Please. Not like this.”

WHAT HE DOES NEXT

Meltdown

kicks a chair (regrets it instantly)

texts his manager: “Cancel everything.”

Silence

disappears for hours

returns with red-rimmed eyes and a plan

Grand Gesture:

RE-PROPOSAL

Setting

rooftop of your first apartment together

fairy lights

no cameras

just him, shaking

What He Says

“I was an idiot. I thought marrying you was enough. But love’s not a ring, it’s every damn day choosing us.” 

kneels, holding out a new ring

= simple, sturdy, no flash, just forever

 “Marry me again. Slower. Louder. Better.”

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

❤ Yandere Police Officer ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Manipulation/Power Abuse.

--

◾ Yandere!Officer who has his eyes on you the moment you step foot in his town.

You’re different from all the girls he’s known all his life, maybe because you’re a city girl. But that doesn’t mean you’re bad, no.

On the contrary, he likes you very much.

You’re not arrogant, arms crossed with a disgusted expression at the small variety of entertainment that the town offers, like many other city people have done before while visiting his town.

You came with a wide smile, the smell of hope and new beginnings incrusted in your figure. He likes that. 

◾ Yandere!Officer who immediately strikes a friendship with you. He’s nice and friendly, offering you all the help you need as you settle in the town and his heart beats faster when you inform him that you plan on staying there permanently. 

He immediately starts daydreaming about you, about the cute perfect couple you two would make. You could take care of the house - and whatever small bundles of joys that came along the way - while he’d work and provide for the family.

Coming home to the happy shrieks of children, a sweet wife and a hot meal sounded like a dream. 

◾ Yandere!Officer that will be there for you as you slowly start to organize your life, helping you find a job at a local coffee shop.

He’d stop by multiple times a day, a charming smile on his face as he’d place his order, asking you about how everything was going. 

His white and blue friends would laugh and throw indiscreet clues about someone having a crush on the waitress, but he’d ignore them, his eyes following you as you work, a smile on your face as you served customers. 

He’d start spending more time in your workplace, even during his off-duty days. His easy going personality making it easy to form a connection with you.

You seem to appreciate his concern and interest in your wellbeing and repay him by bringing him a few pastries for free. 

◾ Yandere!Officer who’ll ask you out when he gives you a ride back to your home, and despite feeling so flattered, you refuse him.

You’re not looking for relationships, still trying to achieve some normalcy in your life before jumping into the dating scenario. 

Besides, he’s not exactly your type. He’s tall and slender, firm muscles stretching out the clothes he wears. Not ripped and bulky, as you like.

But he’s not bad though, having really handsome features and you’ve heard your female coworkers whisper about him, their comments horny enough to make you blush. 

He smiles and assures you it’s fine and that he's okay being friends for now, but you have a bad feeling at the way his expression drops into a sinister frown when he thinks you’re not seeing. 

◾ Yandere!Officer who’ll keep his friendly demeanor, despite the new awkwardness between you two. He still likes you, even if you rejected him like he was an annoying bug.

Maybe you just need a bit of time before accepting him. He’ll wait as long as he can, but can’t stop himself from quickly getting irked when he sees some local guys flirting with you while you’re serving them food. 

Fingers tightly gripping his gun as jealousy burns in his chest. He should teach those guys a lesson for attempting to swoon you, don’t they know you’re his?

Fucking idiots. 

◾ Yandere!Officer who’ll ask you out a second time soon after that.

Your rejection leaves a sour taste in his mouth and this time he doesn’t bother pretending that he’s fine as he angrily storms out of your coffee shop, slamming the door behind him. 

◾ Yandere!Officer who’ll realize that he needs to move fast, otherwise you’ll end up choosing someone else. But knowing how stubborn you were, he’ll have to play dirty to get you in his arms. 

He apologizes for his previous behavior, genuine regret all over his face and of course you end up accepting it, alongside the flowers he offers you. 

But shortly after, you realize that it was all a big mistake. 

He playfully suggests you go out with him in return for him forgetting about the speeding tickets you didn’t even know you had accumulated. His goofy behavior almost makes it look like a harmless proposition.

But when he playfully implies that if you don’t, he may be forced to arrest and book you because of safety issues - that’s when you realize that maybe he’s not as innocent as you think him to be. 

◾ Yandere!Officer who points out that there’s nowhere for you to hide or run from him.

He’s a cop and that means access to a lot of information. Where you came from, your parents, their workplaces, their addresses, everything. 

So how about you play good girl for him? He’d hate anything bad happening to his future in-laws. 

[changetyre]

Heyyyy I just read something with Lando and he says “I wasn’t asking” and I’m going to need moreeee please & thank you 😍

F*ck you!!! || Lando Norris x Reader ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: You absolutely despise the way Lando can having you screaming in anger and then pleasure in a matter of seconds…right? Part 1 Here

WARNINGS: **18+**, hate sex

A/N: I love me some hate sex, denying your feelings kinda fics

It was the worse feeling in the world, no doubt. Your first victory was right there, your hands ready to grasp it you could touch it with the tip of your fingers only for it to be ripped away from you.

The race had gone perfectly, exactly as you’d planned both you and your team had done an excellent job in what was undeniably one if the not the best race of your career, making your way up from P12 after a bad qualifying.

No further action

You read and re read the text ready to waltz into that damned stewards office and give them a piece of mind right before lighting the damn building on fire. That’s the amount of rage you felt right now.

Some part of you was absolutely ready to spend the rest of your life behind bars if it weren’t for that idiot of a man you so very much loved to fuck showed up in your drivers room.

“What the fuck do you want?” You scoffed, right about ready to slap him too.

He’d been the cause of it, happily taking the victory for himself without a care that he’d cost you your race and first and well deserved victory completely.

“I came to apologize.” Lando spoke, a smirk on his face that you wanted to wipe off but a fucked up part of you still enjoyed.

“Fuck off.” You shoved him out of the way as you continued grabbing your things scattered around the room to pack them.

“I am really sorry.” Lando repeated.

“Right you really did look sorry when you were happily spraying champagne up on the podium posing for any camera that pointed your way.” You bit back.

“Let me make it up to you then.” Lando grabbed your waist stoping you from moving around the room.

“Don’t touch me.” Lando almost believed you meant it if it weren’t for the fact you made no attempt whatsoever to get his hands off you.

“Wanna touch me instead baby?” That stupid confident smirk appeared on his face again.

“Fuck you!” You huffed angrily looking up at him.

“I bet you do.” Lando laughed before pushing his lip on yours.

You moaned in annoyance but once again didn’t try hard to push him away. Lando basked in the way you accepted it and tried fighting for dominance with your lips which only for today he’d be okay with giving you.

“I hate you.” You whispered as you yanked Lando’s hair back allowing you to trail your lips down his neck.

“I bet you do baby.” Lando only spurred you on as he felt you leaving marks across his skin.

“I do…so fucking much.” You almost moaned the words this time as you ripped Lando’s shirt off him letting your lips continue their journey downwards before yanking his pants down too.

“Show me how much darling.” Lando knew he had to be quiet, despite the fact that your little adventures weren’t secret to many anymore being victims of your loud ventures around the paddock after a day like today it didn’t seem wise to give people more to talk about.

You didn’t feel like prepping him, you quite frankly didn’t care for anything other than taking out your frustration on him, to make him whine and ache at your hands.

So as you began harshly sucking on his length you basked in the way his knees buckled from under him forcing him to find the nearest support to keep himself upright.

He tried to sit down but you were quick to deny him that luxury.

“You sit down and I’ll stop.” You threatened and you reveled in the way he obeyed, straightening up and his eyes begging for more.

Your own cheeks hurt with how hard you sucked him and you knew he wouldn’t last long, and you watched for the tell tale signs carefully.

“Sh*t that’s so good baby.” Lando panted as he gathered your hair in a ponytail.

His head fell back in pleasure, as he tried his hardest to contain the loud moans that wanted to escape his lips.

“I’m almost there…keep going…ah…ugh!” Lando’s groans got louder.

Just as he was about to release you stopped.

“WHAT THE-“ Lando absolutely hated the feeling, the ache that settled in his core with his pleasure being ripped away right at the last second.

“Feels shit doesn’t it.” You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“You little-“ Lando hated the fact that he for 1 second believed you’d make him feel good and forget about today.

“Have fun taking care of that.” You poked Lando’s rock-hard dick before getting up, grabbing your bags and leaving him.

[airandyeah]

Jealousy Jealousy?

Warnings: Sukuna Ryomen, jealousy sex, rough sex, he loves you though, and you were being a brat so you had it coming. Spankings with bare hands.

Okay.... Maybe provoking Sukuna was a bad idea. You knew your boyfriend could barely stand watching men glance over you, but when they ogled? Oh he couldn't take it. Usually you're good at sticking up for yourself and half the time you shout out that they are perverts and they face public ridicule. But this time... This time you encouraged it.

"Kuna that's enou-", your cut off by another firm slap to your ass as your boyfriends big, warm hands soothe the sting. "How many, Brat?", his voice is clipped and rough, he's still mad but he isn't really hurting you. No, he would never really hurt you.

Your brain was fuzzy to the question and youre pulled out of your haze by his hand gripping your hair, "I asked you a question brat".

"E-eight...", you manage to squeak out and he chuckles at your meekness. Like a predator standing over his prey. "Let's make it to ten and maybe if ya beg pretty I'll give it a rest, yeah?", you can hear the smugness in his voice, if you turned you would find him smirking, all teeth like a true predator.

You shake your head vigorously with a squeak, "Yes Kuna, pleasee".

He takes his time with the last two, making sure to rub at your ass and up your lower back gently almost, before landing a smack down to the fat of your ass. He loves watching it recoil from his touch and soon he was done with his ten.

"Kuna, Kuna pleaseee, I'm sorry I flirted with that guy, sorry I let him touch my shoulder, 'm yours Kuna!", you plead with him, wet slick sliding down the insides of your thighs and he laughs, a low sound that makes your body stiffen up.

"Normally I'd ask what you want but *she's* telling me everything", his fingers trace your slick folds as he said it and you shiver, body jerking for more friction so he slaps your pussy hard.

You feel tears prick your eyes as you babble apologies only for him to push a finger into your spongy entrance. His finger pumps in and out rhythmically before curling and inserting another.

You get close as his thumb massages your clit in circles and right as you hit the boiling point-

He rips his fingers away, laughing at your pathetic whine which turns into a loud moan as his thick cock pressed into you. "kunaaaa~~~", you were drunk off of him and he drank up every moan and whine while he thrusts back and forth, your ass ricocheting from the force of his thrusts.

"Not gonna walk for a fuckin week Brat,-", ngh, "no more letting other guys touch what's mine, understand?", he's feral at this point, hips rutting forward to meet yours. "I promise Kuna, promise I'll be good, 'm yours, 'm yours fuck!", his tip scrapes over your g-spot as he grabs your hair, arching your back all pretty.

He's hitting all the right places as you clench down on him, your voice rising with every thrust, close, so close, you can feel the boiling point of your arousal, feel the slickness of your arousal gathering in a ring at the base of his cock, and then you're cumming with a shout as he growls in your ear, hips snapping hard and fast before he releases with a groan.

---

As you both settle from your love making you set your head on his chest as he kisses your forehead, you're his and you know it. Now and forever.

[juceys]

lemonade jey uso

— he shouldn’t be here. you know that, he knows that. but he shows anyways. the question is, are you gonna stand for yourself or let him back in?

pairing jey uso x fem!reader wc 1.7k+ genre angst warnings explicit language not proofread (when is it ever LMAO) note crashed out monday night and whipped this up… i actually fw this one so bad ugh </3

listened to vanish by givēon, when it hurts so bad by lauryn hill, session 32 by summer walker, all night by beyoncé (lowkey beyoncé’s whole lemonade album)

it’s been a week since you last saw him.

six days since the last time he called.

and five since you blocked a number you thought you never would.

you look out the window from your couch. it’s raining hard. the skies painted dark hues of gray, with the occasional purple flash from lightning.

it’s the kind of rain that makes the city feel like it’s falling apart. thunder cracks throughout your apartment like bones. you sit in the dark, wrapped in a blanket watching the storm brew outside.

you refuse to cry. you’ve done enough of that. you’re fed up with the thought of him. even more fed up at the thought of him controlling your mood.

you’re done.

you’re done with the late night phone calls that end in harsh words and strained silence.

you’re done with his half-assed apologies and gifts that he thinks will make it up to you.

you’re done with hearing “i’m sorry baby, i’ll be better.”

at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

you’re so deep in your thoughts that you barely register the knock at the door.

but then you hear it again. and this time you can’t ignore it. not when you know who’s at the door.

you get up, slowly. like if you move too fast, you’ll break the silence you’ve worked so hard to build.

you open the door, and there he is.

joshua.

drenched. rain clinging to his hair and weighing down the white tee that outlines his broad chest and muscles. his zip-ups halfway zipped, barely even on his body anymore.

and his eyes — those damn eyes — don’t look cocky or confident.

they look wrecked. devastated.

normally, the sight of him alone would’ve brought you to your knees. but not today. today, your brain tells you to slam the door. to tell him to fuck off. but your feet stay planted. and your chest? it aches, hard.

“you shouldn’t be here,” you breathe.

“i know,” his voice gentle, but cracking. “but i can’t do this anymore.”

you grip the door knob tighter. your pulse is loud. loud like when he’d come home and pin you to the wall with nothing but his stare. loud like when he asked for time, distance, space — and you gave it, even when it felt like your heart being ripped out of your chest.

you steady yourself. “you shouldn’t be here,” you say again, voice harsher this time.

“i know,” he steps closer, voice breaking. “but i miss you.”

you’d laugh if those words alone didn’t sting so bad. last time he told you he missed you? he left two days after.

but funnily enough, that’s all it takes. not him standing here in the rain. not the look in his eyes. not the fact his chest is rising and falling like he’s the one whose been putting up with his bullshit the past year.

it’s just those three words.

i miss you.

and you know what’s worse?

you miss him too.

“please,” he says gently. “i just need to talk to you. just give me 5 minutes. if you still hate me and want me out of here, then i’ll go. all i ask is 5 minutes, please baby.”

you scoff.

but you look at him. like, really look at him.

he isn’t jey uso — mr. main event, the larger-than-life name that sells out arenas and shows.

he looks like josh. your josh.

the man who’d fall asleep in your lap, muttering nonsense as you’d run your fingers through his scalp. the man who’d call you every night when he was on the road, because he couldn’t sleep without you. the man who’d look for you first in every crowd. the man who acted like he hated everyone — except you.

you swallow the lump forming in your throat. and you find yourself moving aside and letting him in, just like you always do.

he quietly thanks you as he walks in, leaving wet footprints leading to the living room. his shoulders feel heavy, the weight of the conversation about to happen getting to him.

you grab a towel from your room and throw it over to him. he catches it, pressing it to his face before scrunching his soaked curls.

you stand with your arms crossed. “your 5 minutes have already started so i’d suggest you start soon,” you say sternly, ignoring the way you already feel your resolve melting.

he looks at you. you can tell he’s searching for the right words. you can tell whatever he’ll say next is honest. raw.

“i messed up.”

you blink. okay… or maybe you just can’t tell anything that goes on in his head.

“i know i messed up,” he corrects himself. “i was being stubborn. sayin’ shit i don’t even mean. i asked for space and now that i’ve had it, i’ve never regretted something more. i thought i wanted to be free, or some shit like that. i just didn’t realize that it’s with you when i feel free. without you it just feels… empty.”

he sighs. “without you, it felt like i’m alive, but i just ain’t breathing. felt like i have no purpose. no drive. no reason.”

your breath hitches.

you don’t say anything. you can’t say anything. you know that if you say something, the walls you’ve tried so hard to build up the past week… will come crashing down.

he takes a step closer to you.

“i’ve never been good at shit like this. relationships. vulnerability. feelings. being honest with myself about my feelings. figured that if i push them away first, they’d realize i’m no good for them. that they can find someone better.”

he pauses.

“i thought i could do the same with you.”

well that felt like a slap to the face.

“but i can’t. i can’t fucking act like i can sleep without your head on my chest. i can’t act like i can get up every morning without you pushing me off the bed. i can’t act like i don’t need you.”

then he gets quieter. “because i do. every damn day.”

you feel your heart sink. it aches, blooming like something you swore you buried. your stomach is in knots, you feel nauseous.

“don’t do that,” you whisper, voice somewhat strained. “don’t come in here, this late, saying everything i wanted you to say when i was crying alone in this apartment. saying everything you should have said before deciding to go. you don’t get to hurt me, then miss me.”

your throat swells at the next sentence that comes out of your mouth.

“you don’t get to spend a week without me, and yearn for me the way i yearned for you every single day of our relationship.”

his heart shatters.

his voice dips. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“well, guess what? you did joshua. congratulations.”

he looks down. “fuck, i know i hurt you. and i’m sorry. i hate myself for it. but if there’s any part of you that still wants this… us… me…”

you don’t know if you should scoff and turn him away, or if you should hold him in your arms and forgive him.

probably the first — but you’re not listening to your rational side right now.

“i’m not asking for a clean slate,” he says, looking up at you. “i just need a crack in the door, an opening — anything, and i’ll fight for the rest.”

you look into his eyes.

they’re red. from the rain, you tell yourself. from something else, like crying maybe, is what you wish and hope.

you hate him. you hate that he’s here. you hate that it only took three words to let him back in. you hate that it didn’t take long for him to make you miss him again. you hate that he smells like your favorite hoodie of his that you’ve cuddled every night since. you hate how your voice trembles and shakes as you say —

“you broke me.”

he breathes out, “i know.”

you don’t look at him.

“i don’t trust you,” your voice small.

“i’ll earn it back.”

“and what if you don’t?”

“i’ll still try.”

you look back up at him, tears welling in your eyes. the sight alone makes josh want to run to you, hold you and wipe your tears away.

he hates himself for being the reason you’re so heartbroken. for being the reason of the full trash of used tissues. for being the reason you’re crying.

“why?”

“because.”

he moves closer to you. slowly. cautiously. giving you time to move back if you don’t want him close. you don’t.

“you the only woman on this earth that’ll ever be enough for me. the only one i’d fight for. the only one i’d every burn the world for.”

your stomach twists even further. your jaw unclenched. your arms drop from your chest to your sides. your lips turn into a deep frown.

his hand lifts tentatively, and brushes your cheek. not in a lustful way, not rushed either. just… him longing. yearning.

“can i kiss you?” he whispers.

you shouldn’t.

your mind is telling you no. the little angel and devil on your shoulders finally in agreement for once, telling you to push him off.

but your heart and body betray you.

you nod.

he leans in slowly, almost afraid that you’ll vanish. or push him away at the last second. but when his lips finally press against yours, it’s nothing like the heat — the desire that you’re used to.

it’s soft. sad. desperate. full of longing. like he’s trying to memorize the feeling in case it’s his last.

and when he pulls away, forehead resting against yours, you whisper —

“you still shouldn’t be here.”

“i know,” he breathes. “but that was a crack in the door. and i’m not gonna give up until i have you again.”

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!! how are you?

i recently burned my thigh with my iron curler and it formed a big scar. it started slowly bubbling up and i accidentally popped it like 2 days ago so now i have fresh skin open 🥲 it’s extra sensitive and i have to patch it up. and when i let the wound breath it HURTS 😭

i was wondering if you could write about this with emt!marauders? or maybe just james? idk lol whatever you feel like writing it about.

AND IF YOUVE WRITTEN ABOUT THIS ALREADY, MY BAD 😃😭

Hi lovely, I'm good! I'm really sorry this happened, it sounds awful!! Hope it's feeling a bit better by now <3

cw: severe burn (no details)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 786 words

“I don’t think we should do this.”  

“I mean,” says James, sitting patiently opposite you on the bed, “I don’t love it either.” 

“Then let’s not,” you bargain.

 He gives you a sorry smile. “What do you think we should do instead, angel?” 

You take a deep breath. “Leave it,” you say on the exhale. “It’ll heal eventually. Or it won’t, and the bandage will become my new skin. I could be fine with that.” 

“I’m somewhat attached to your real skin.” 

“We all have to make sacrifices, James.” 

Your boyfriend gives you an amused look, but there’s worry beneath it. You feel guilty for putting him through this. It’s bad enough that he has to change your bandages for you because you’re too squeamish to do it yourself, but now you’re also making him convince you as if it were his idea. 

You blow out a long breath, tilting your face up toward the ceiling. “I can’t see it.” 

“You don’t have to,” he reassures you. “You can close your eyes, baby.”

“How bad is a little infection really?” you ask, but you’re already laying back, succumbing to the plushness of your pillow. 

“I had a dog bite get infected once,” James says, pulling your leg into his lap. Strong, gentle fingers on the underside of your thigh. “I didn’t enjoy it.” 

“You got bitten by a dog?” You turn your head to see him, but he shoots you a look and you sigh, covering your eyes with your hands. “When was that?” 

“When I was little.” One of his hands stays cradling your leg, but you feel the fingers of the other probing carefully at the edges of your bandage. Apprehension climbs up your throat, mingling with the ache of affection that’s already there. You appreciate how delicate James is with you, peeling the bandage up gingerly by one corner instead of ripping it off like some might. “It wasn’t really the dog’s fault, it was just spooked and I didn’t know enough to stay away.” 

You hiss as the bandage sticks to a tender bit of skin, and James coos an apology, stroking the unharmed skin beside it soothingly. Then the whole thing comes off, air hitting the wound and making you tense all over. 

“What happened with the bite?” Your voice is somewhat strained. 

James hesitates. “There was a lot of puss involved,” he says. “You won’t want to hear the details.” 

“Mm, thanks.” 

He chuckles. You can hear him twisting the cap off the antibiotic ointment. Your fingertips press harder into your brow bone. 

“You alright?” he asks softly. 

“Mhm. I’m ready.” 

You still gasp through your teeth when the ointment makes contact with your skin, and James grips your leg more firmly to keep you from flinching away. 

“Sorry,” he hisses, working fast as he can with gentle, caring fingers. “Sorry, baby.” 

“Not your fault,” you squeak out, keeping your own fingers pressed tightly over your eyes. “Thank you for doing this.” 

James doesn’t seem to want to accept your thanks, and you let the silence sit. When he’s done, you both sigh. 

“Thanks,” you say again. For good measure. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Definitely not,” James agrees. “I’ve no idea what we’re going to do when I’m hurt someday and neither of us can look at it.” 

You drop your hands from your eyes and sit up on your elbows, careful to look only at James and not down at your leg. It’s not hard. He’s a lovely sight, even with that sympathetic pinch to his mouth and worry tightening the muscles around his eyes. You reach for his hand, and his expression lightens. He wipes his fingertips off on his jeans before giving it to you. 

“We’ll have to call Remus,” you say, squeezing his fingers. 

A laugh startles out of him. “I thought you were going to say you’d put your squeamishness aside for me. Or that it wouldn’t be gross because you love me, or something.” 

“I would if it were true,” you reply, “but I’m afraid I won’t be much help if I’m gagging over you the entire time. I’ll hold your hand while we both don’t look, though.” 

“Mm, fair enough.” He scoots closer on the bed. His hand finds your opposite hip, rubbing a slow back-and-forth. “And you’ll distract me with kisses while I’m nursed back to health?” 

“If it’ll help.” Your voice is soft. “Though I should point out that I haven’t received any kisses.” 

Twin dimples appear on either side of James mouth as he leans over you, careful to avoid your hurt leg. “Patience, angel,” he murmurs as his lips brush yours. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

[kayharrisons]

Really fucked it up this time, didn't I my dear? [BJORN X FEM!READER] [18+ ONLY] [4 OF?]

Where it all went wrong.

A/N: HELLO I'M BACK AHAHA have chapter 4 :3 we learn why Bjorn and Reader started to fall apart :) this is ANGSTTTT

Series warnings: unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion, eventual childbirth, commitmentphobe Bjorn, possessive Bjorn, talks of morning sickness and other pregnancy symptoms, friends to fwb to something Worse, cheating mentions, nsfw content such as sex and eventual Alien type scenarios

Previous

Next

18 weeks ago

"I'm gonna break it off with him," you murmur, one morning, curled into Bjorn's side and trailing your fingers up and down his chest.

He grunts a sleepy noise, squinting at you through half closed lids. "Why?" he asks, yawning, as he idly brushes his fingers through the ends of your hair. "Wha'sthe twat done?"

"Bjorn," you frown, shifting to sit up a little, searching his face. "I can't... it's not fair on him. He's not done anything wrong-"

"Beyond be a bit shit in bed?" he deflects, and you scowl.

"Bjorn!"

"What?" he huffs, arm flopping back onto the bed, frown firmly in place. "Not wrong, otherwise you wouldn't be coming to me for a shag, now would you?"

You flinch, staring at him with wounded eyes. His jaw sets, but he offers no apologies. "Is that what you think?" You ask, voice wavering. "That's the only reason I...?"

His eyes darken, and he shifts uncomfortably, looking outside of his bedroom window. There's nothing of interest outside of it, of course there isn't. But he's unable to meet your gaze, your hurt eyes.

"What else is there?" he asks, voice cool, exhaling hard as he looks at you again, daring you to say more.

"I can't keep doing this," you laugh, bitterly, as you drop the bedsheets and stand, grabbing your bra, your underwear, furiously tugging them on. Usually you'd relish the feeling of his spend still lingering between your thighs, but now? Now it feels like a mockery, a sham. "You keep fucking- every time we- I can't live with this!"

"What?" he barks out, sitting up and yanking on his t-shirt. "Can't live with what, love? Hm?" He challenges, pulling on his boxers and standing, scowling at you.

"This!" You shriek, gesturing between you both. "You're my best friend and I- fuck, Bjorn, when was the last time we hung out and it wasn't for sex?"

"Y'say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not, it's- I just miss you," you whisper, ducking your head down with a shaky exhale. The Bjorn of before, your best friend, he'd comfort you, would reach out and pull you into a hug. Would settle his hands on your shoulders and look into your eyes, telling you everything would be alright. Would press a kiss to your forehead before shoving you in the direction of the couch so you both could watch a shitty film.

This Bjorn, the one standing before you now? He makes no such moves. His fists clench and unclench by his sides, something flashing across his expression that you can't quite put a name to.

"Right here, aren't I?" he asks, voice hoarse, thick with emotion. His vulnerable eyes meet yours, a look you haven't seen from him in...

You reach out, cupping his cheek in your hand, gently brushing your thumb back and forth along his cheekbone. "Are you?"

He swallows, leaning his cheek into your hand before ripping himself away, back to you, his hand scratching at his scalp. "You should go," he mutters, staring holes into the pictures taped to his wall; years and years with his family and friends, group pictures, silly takes, you in his arms like you belong there. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, hands balling into fists by his sides again. "Y'know, 'fore your boyfriend comes home."

You say nothing. There is the shuffle of clothes being pulled on, the sound of his bedroom door opening and closing and then...

Silence.

"FUCK!" comes his shout, as he slams a balled up fist against the cool metal of his bedroom wall. He leans against it for a moment, ignoring the dull throbbing of his hand as he tries to regain his bearings.

It's impossible, when you've knocked him so off kilter.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Now.

"Fuckin'..." Bjorn slurs, as he leans against your kitchen counter. "Nice... nice dishtowel." he gestures, vaguely, at the pink thing neatly sat on your counter. It wasn't often that you saw a colour that wasn't some shade of brown, grey or beige. So you'd snatched it up at the market, unable to stop smiling that day.

"Thanks," you retort, sourly, arms crossed as you lean against your shitty kitchen table. "What do you want, Bjorn?"

"Can't a bloke cum'n'see his best mate?" he asks, giving you a cheeky grin.

Your eye twitches. As if that damn stupid smile was supposed to erase the last few weeks of torment you'd been putting each other through.

"You haven't said a nice word to me in about two months, you know that, right?"

"Oh, like you've been a ray of fuckin' sunshine lately, love." he shoots back, before taking one look at you and sighing, slumping and scrubbing his hands down his face. "I've missed ya, alright?" he mutters, stumbling on over to your couch and sitting down on it. "Fuckin'... Tyler, man, yappin' on boutcha... not his fuckin' best mate..." he crosses his arms, glumly slouching into the comfort of your couch.

"What the fuck has Tyler got to do with anything?" you ask, bewildered, blinking at him. "He's been a good friend, y'know? Actually asking how I'm doing and not telling me to go fuck myself-"

"Look so pretty with ya fingers inside'ya though," he smirks, bouncing his brows at you. Upon seeing your Medusa scowl, he immediately holds up his hands. "Sorry. Fuck, fuck- I promised myself I wouldn't do that-"

"What? Hit on me after weeks of not talking to me?" you snort, sitting down next to him, tentatively.

He nods, eagerly, reminding you of those little bobble head puppies you sometimes saw sitting on desks on offices. "Yeah! That! The fuckin'... deflection shit. I wanted ta... fuck, I'm sorry, love, alright? I just..."

He looks at you, with his hazy, half open eyes. He reaches out, gently clasping the back of your neck and leaning his forehead against yours, bringing you closer to him. Your heart skips.

Be it from the familiar warmth of him, or the glimpse of the old Bjorn, you're not sure.

"I've missed ya," he whispers, nudging his nose against yours. You try not to recoil from him, the smell of Aspen clinging to his breath. You'd always hated the smell of the beer, and with the baby-

It feels surreal, sitting in the presence of your best friend, your baby's father, and him being blissfully unaware of its existence.

"Missed ya so fuckin' much," he whispers, stroking his fingers along the nape of your neck. You fight back a shiver. "Fuckin'... don't feel like m'self these days, y'know? Like 'alf of me's missin' or summit, even though you're right there and- and fuck, why'dya have t'say it?" He slurs, damn near sobbing the last part out. "We were- we were fine 'till y'said it-"

"We weren't," you whisper, shaking your head and lurching back from him, forcing yourself to your feet. "We weren't, Bjorn! Neither of us could've kept going the way we were!"

"But we had each'otha-" he reaches out, grabbing your hands. "That was- was all I ever wanted-"

"It was all I wanted too," you whisper, giving his hand a squeeze. His palms are clammy, his fingers cold. You squeeze a little tighter, hoping to give him some warmth. "But it was killing us Bjorn. It was."

He lets out a choked sound, resting his forehead against your joined hands. "Why'dya hafta say it?"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

10 weeks ago.

You lay side by side, panting, both slick with sweat. The room is silent save for your laboured breaths.

"Should we-"

"No." Bjorn grunts, pulling the sheets over his waist, eyes glued to the ceiling.

"Bjorn-" you protest, pushing yourself up, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Just slipped out, didn't it?" he asks, glancing at you, before flinching and returning his gaze to the ceiling. "Slip of the tongue. Happens to the best of us. Can pretend it never happened."

Silence.

He glances to you again, startled at the sight of tears rolling down your cheeks as you stare back at him.

"Fucksake-" he panics, sitting up, gently taking your face in his hands, wiping the tears from your face. "Y'alright-"

"I said I love you." you whisper, and it may as well be a shout from how hard he flinches as you say it. "I can't just- I can't just ignore that, Bjorn."

"Why?" he asks, desperately, searching your face. "We can just-"

"Go back to the way things were?" you finish, bitterly, and he ducks his head down. "I... I can't. I won't. We need to talk about this-"

"We don't!" he snaps, dropping his hands from your face in favour of carding them through his hair. "We're mates, that's all there is to it, ain't there?"

You shake your head, exhaling shakily. "You know as well as I do that that's not the case, not anymore. I love you and I- you love-"

"Don't fuckin' tell me how I feel!" he interrupts, scowling at you. "Don't you dare- I'm the only person who decides that, alright?!"

"Are-" you give him a once over, another tear streaking down your cheek. "Can you honestly tell me you don't feel the same? That this is just- just physical?"

Bjorn sighs heavily through his nose, not quite meeting your eyes. "Just mates, love." he mutters, picking at a loose piece of skin by one of his nails. "S'all there is to it. Nothing more."

"I love you." you repeat, oh so quietly, but you know he hears it. His flinch gives him away. You wait for him to say something, anything, you wait and wait and-

He says nothing back.

"We're done." you whisper, firmly, as you stand and redress, as he continues to pick at his skin and refuses to look at you. "You and me we're- this is over."

"Fine."

You feel like screaming, like grabbing him by the shoulders and demand he fights for you both, that he drops this bullshit facade he has up, that he just fucking admits it-

You do none of this.

You flee, instead, back to the safety of your own trailer.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Now.

"Because that's how I felt," you say, leaning down, pressing a kiss to his head. "Can't change any of it now, though."

"We were fine," he repeats, eyes damp as he looks up at you. "We..."

"Weren't."

He chokes back a sob, tugging insistently on your hand. You sit back down next to him, watching his face.

His beautiful, handsome face that even now still sends your heart skipping a beat or two.

"I..." he clutches your hand tight. "Fuck- messed up. I ruined-"

"You didn't feel the same, Bjorn," you sigh, giving him a tight smile. It still hurts, even now, after all these weeks. "That's... not a crime. I just think it could've been handled better."

"But I do!" he snaps, squeezing your hand. "I fuckin'- christ, love, I've been mental 'boutcha for years-"

Instead of skipping a beat, your heart stops. Drops to your stomach entirely as you listen to him, as you watch him. He's drunk. So very drunk.

What he's saying, it's everything you'd been hoping for, that you've dreamed of...

You reach out, pressing a finger to his lips.

But it isn't right.

"No," you say softly, shaking your head. "No. Tell me when you sober up, okay? I don't... I don't wanna hear it from you like this."

He blinks at you, oh so confused... before nodding, pecking your finger. "Okay..."

You stand, scrubbing a hand down your face. "Sleep on the couch tonight, okay? I'll talk to you in the morning."

"Okay." He repeats, nodding still. Your lips quirk up a little, as you toss a blanket his way.

"Shoes off."

"Okay."

That gets your snorting. He blinks innocently at you, toeing off his boots.

"Night, Bjorn."

"Okay..." he slurs, already half asleep and tangled with the blanket you'd tossed his way.

Your eyes linger on him a moment before you head to your bedroom, before you curl up on your bed and resist the urge to cry all over him again.

He won't be there in the morning. You know it.

[hypewinter]

3 HC/AU Prompt Thingy (3)

1). Box Ghost hears he was powerful and feared I'm the Dan timeline, gets ripped

2). Jason, as a reverent can hit ectoplasm ghosts

3). Guys Night Out (choose whatever ghosts you want)

(I love making these and your the only one who writes for them, :))

Ok hear me out: Full DILF box ghost. Don't scroll away and just give me a second of your time ok?

Boxy gets swoll. Real swoll. His gimmick might still be dumb but now he's so strong that no one dares to point that out anymore. That being said, he is still the best dad ever to Boxed Lunch. I'm talking about helping her tie her shoes, being a willing participant in her tea parties, tucking her in at night, the works. He's such a good father that when Boxed Lunch asks for a super rare Orphan toy that was only ever distributed in Gotham, he immediately agrees to get it for her.

Johnny 13 hears about Box Ghost's little outing and invites himself along as he wants to get Kitty some new jewelry to make up for their last fight. Thus begins a wild night for Boxy and Johnny as they both have a heart to heart (now that Johnny 13 can't make fun of him for fear of being punted through a wall) plus they even bond over how much they love the women in their lives.

All is going well. The boys have done some fun stuff around the city, gotten up to a little mischief, and even picked up Johnny's apology jewelry. The only thing left is Boxed Lunch's toy. As they're scouring an abandoned warehouse full of discontinued toys that's when Jason drops it. He'd been getting reports of strange occurrences all night from his men and he'd finally been able to track it down to this warehouse. Of all the things Jason anticipated, it was not two weird looking metas going through boxes. But nevertheless he has a job to do.

He aims his gun at the two metas and demands they step away from the boxes. They don't. Why would they? They're ghosts, this human can't hurt them. Sure enough when Jason eventually fires at their knees after a couple of warning shots, the rubber bullets go right through. Jason is shocked to say the least. And now his mind is whirring a mile a minute trying to figure out how those two just did that. Meta powers? Hidden tech? How is he going to deal with this? He doesn't want to go through the embarrassment of calling for backup.

Johnny 13 on the other hand, is pretty peeved this guy won't leave them alone. He's ruining their night out! So he decides to scare him. Maybe that will make him leave. So Johnny gets right up in Jason's fac- er mask and lets out a pretty impressive ghostly howl if he does say so himself. Except instead of running away, Jason instinctively punches him. In the nose. And it hurts. A lot.

So now Johnny is reeling in pain, Jason realizes he can take care of these guys the old fashioned way and Boxy has finally found the Orphan toy. "Oh no!" I hear you say. "The fight of the century between Boxy and Jason is about to go down!" Actually no. Not really.

Box Ghost has been teaching Boxed Lunch about conflict resolution recently and he is not about to let his actions contradict his words. So he explains the situation to Jason. Jason for his part is a little miffed but understanding. You're just trying to be a good father. I get it. Besides these toys are just gonna collect dust in here anyways. Oh but you do have to return the jewelry. *Sad (and pained) Johnny 13 noises*

Jason kinda feels bad for the whole, punching Johnny in the nose thing (even though it was totally his fault) so he offers to take them to find non-stolen jewelry for Kitty instead. Thus the boys night continues! Now with extra shenanigans.

[twopoppies]

i keep seeing your tag, rip liam, and it makes no sense to me. because how could this be, you know? how come we’ve lost a member of one direction so soon? every time i look at it, it just feels surreal. the shock from the first two days has passed, but it still feels like it makes no sense, like it is so alien.

the worst thing is, for a while i’d been having a bad feeling about liam. we could tell he wasn’t okay, and even though i in no way expected this to happen, so suddenly too, i did see the path he was walking wasn’t a healthy one. but i guess now that everyone is sharing their one direction favorite videos, interviews and all (which is so so great, keep doing it, because laughter is a part of grief. grief is also about celebrating the person that was), i keep thinking that the liam who died was that one. the one on the stage, the young one, bright-eyed, full with expectations for the future.

i was never his fan, i never followed his career, but i’m truly so heartbroken that things didn’t work out for him. i saw this video where he broke down in tears after writing something for his album, and it touched me so deeply. deep down, he was still full with emotions and expectations, he was the same kid. he longed for something that always remained just out of reach, and isn’t that heart-shattering?

addiction is so fucked up. i’m actually studying about it for a UNI presentation. man…

and for the last couple of weeks, with everything that was coming to light, i was really angry with him. actually, not really angry, i wasn’t angry. but learning how abusive he’d gotten, i was totally done with him, you know? but this? just… no. he deserved to get better for his own self, to live life lightly. and his victims deserved to hear an apology. it’s a horrible situation all around.

my friend said something and i so agree. if he’d survived the fall, his life would probably change completely. he’d probably come to the realization of how bad it’d gotten and he would probably get better. his life would take new meaning, and everyone would be able see how badly he needed help.

why is reality so harsh. when your other anon said that one direction became this generation’s nirvana, queen… devastating.

all those boys deserved so much better.

I was thinking the same thing this morning. If he'd somehow survived, he'd probably have found the ability to stay clean and sober. And life would take on new meaning for him.

He deserved better. He deserved more time.