#asks. ⇢ hello? hello? i can hear you breathing!

[gingersxng]

Call A Friend

Pairing: f!reader x Mingi

Genre: smut 18+

Summary: when you’ve tried everything to make yourself satisfied and nothing helps, the only thing left to try is to call a friend, who is more than happy to help you.

Notes: freaky friendship??, reader is very horny, so is Mingi, mentioning sex toys, phone sex, dirty talk, horndog! Mingi, lots of teasing, fingering, stripping, nipple/breast play, praising, jerking off, edging, mingi cums on himself, pet names (baby & beautiful), Mingi wanna fuck you!!

Words: 1.4k

You were alone in your apartment, you had a rough day at work and your whole body was aching. It was aching to be touched. This feeling had been going on for at least three days, a constant ache between your thighs that begged for release.

Playing with yourself wasn’t enough to make you completely satisfied, using the vibrator or the big dildo was much but nothing could fix your horniness.

Laying on your bed, you looked up at the ceiling and thought about what to do. Then suddenly, you remembered something in the back of your head. Maybe you should call Mingi? He was a horny freak too, ofc he was a much bigger freak than you but he if someone would understand your needs.

With your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, you reached for your phone, your fingers trembled with anticipation. You scrolled through your contacts. Your eyes landed on the picture with a pink haired guy biting his sunglasses.

Without hesitation, you clicked on his number. The phone rang, and with each signal, you got hornier.

“Fuck, can’t he answer” you muttered.

"Hello?" His voice echoed through the phone, deep and rich.

"Mingi, it's Y/n" you purred, you sure sounded needy. "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

"Y/n" he rumbled. "It's been a while. What a pleasant surprise. I was just about to start my evening workout, but I can make an exception for you."

His words sent a rush of heat to your core. You bit your lip, your mind already spinning with naughty thoughts. "Oh, I'd love to join you for your workout, Mingi. I could use a good... stretch." You said seductively.

Mingi let out a low chuckle, the sound resonating in your ear. "I can tell you're up to something. What's on your mind, beautiful?"

"I was feeling a little... restless tonight" you confessed. "And I thought of you. I wanted to hear your voice again, and maybe... do something a little naughty together."

"Oh, Y/n" he said, his voice dropping an octave. "You know how to tempt me don’t you? I'm all ears. Tell me what you want."

You took a deep breath, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. "I want you to talk to me, Mingi. I want to hear your voice as I touch myself."

There was a moment of silence, and you could almost feel the intensity of his gaze through the phone. "Fuck. I forgot you’re just a horny freak like me." He chuckled. You closed your eyes, picturing his handsome face, imagining his strong hands on your body.

"Now, Y/n" he began, his voice taking on a seductive tone. "I want you to take off your clothes. Slowly. Let your fingers glide over your skin, feel every inch of your beautiful body."

Obeying his command, you stood up and began to undress. Your fingers fumbled with the buttons on your top. You let the fabric slide off the shoulders, exposing your lace bra. Your breasts heaved with each breath, the nipples already filled with arousal.

"That's it, Y/n" Mingi whispered. "Let me see you. Show me how beautiful you are."

You unhooked your bra, letting it fall to the floor, revealing your big tits. Your hands cupped them, squeezing gently, as if offering them to him. "Like what you see, Mingi?" You teased.

"God, yes" he groaned. "Your tits are perfect. Pinch your nipples for me, Y/n. Make them harden."

You did as he asked, you rolled your sensitive buds between your fingers, moaning softly at the sensation. "They're so sensitive, Mingi. I can't wait to feel your mouth on them."

"I'll suck them so hard, you'll scream my name" he purred. "Now, slide your hands down your body, tease yourself for me."

Your fingers trailed down your stomach, the skin tingled at his words. Your slipped your fingers beneath the waistband of your skirt, feeling the heat radiating from your aching core. With a slow, deliberate motion, you pushed your skirt down, revealing your lacy panties.

Mingi’s mind almost went 404, thinking about you all naked on the bed for him. "Now, touch yourself. Let me hear how wet you are."

Your fingers dipped beneath the silk fabric, finding your slick folds. You let out a gasp as you touched yourself. "I'm so wet, Mingi. I can't remember the last time I felt this aroused."

"Good girl" he encouraged. "Now, slide a finger inside. Feel how tight you are."

You did as he instructed, your breath hitched as you penetrated yourself. "Oh, Mingi, I'm so tight. I need more. Please, tell me what to do."

"Tease your clit, Y/n" he commanded. "Circle it with your fingers, but don't touch it directly. Not yet."

Your fingers danced around the swollen bud, your hips thrusted eagerly as you wanted relief. "I need more, Mingi. Please, I'm so close."

"Not yet baby" he said, his voice firm yet gentle. "I want you to edge. Tease yourself until you're right on the brink, and then stop. I want to hear you beg for release."

You whimpered, your body trembled with need. Mingi's voice was like a drug, pushing you further into the depths of pleasure. You complied, your fingers worked your clit with expert precision, bringing yourself to the very edge of orgasm before pulling away.

"Please, Mingi" you begged. "I need to cum. Please, let me finish."

"Not yet" he said. "I want to hear you beg some more. Tell me how much you want it."

Your body was on fire, your juices were flowing freely. "I want it so bad, Mingi. I'm so close. Please, please let me cum."

"That's it, Y/n" he urged. "Beg for it. Tell me how good it will feel when you finally let go."

"Fuck Mingi!" you panted. "Fuck me!!."

"Now, Y/n" he growled. "Let go. Cum for me, beautiful."

His words were like a trigger, you came on the spot. Your body shook as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you. You cried out his name with your fingers still working your clit.

"Fuck Y/n" Mingi breathed, his voice filled with satisfaction. "That was incredible. I so wish I could fuck you right now."

Your eyes widened at his sudden words. “Uhmm…” you suddenly went quiet. You heard a low groan on the other side of the phone.

"I'm hard as a rock right now" he purred. "Listening to you pleasuring yourself made me so horny, could you help me?."

A wicked smile spread across your face. "Oh, I'd love to help you, Mingi. What do you have in mind?"

"I want you to talk to me, Y/n" he said, his voice low and husky. "Tell me how you'd suck my cock. Describe it to me in detail, and make me cum with your words."

You almost choked, you knew Mingi were a horndog but you two never actually got to bed together. You tried to picture what his dick would look like, it had to be big, thick, veiny… you imagined the feel of it in your mouth. "I'd start by licking the tip, Mingi. Tasting your precum, letting it tease my tongue. Then, I'd take you deep, as deep as I could, until my lips touched the base."

"Fuck, Y/n" he groaned. "That's exactly what I need to hear. Keep going, baby."

"I'd suck you hard" you continued, your voice growing bolder. "My lips are tight around your shaft, my tongue swirling, teasing the underside. I'd look up at you with lust filled eyes, watching your pleasure."

"Yes" he hissed. "I'm so fucking close. Tell me how you'd swallow it."

"I'd take every drop" you purred. "I'd suck you dry, feeling your cock twitch in my mouth as you cum. I'd savor the taste of you, wanting more."

His breathing was ragged now, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. His low moan echoed through the phone, followed by a series of guttural grunts. "Oh, Y/n... fuck I'm... cumming!"

You listened as he climaxed, his voice could make you cum again. The thought of him stroking his hard cock, imagining your mouth on him, was enough to make you ache for more.

His hoodie was stained in white thick cum.

"That was incredible, Y/n" he breathed. "I've never had a phone call like that before. Thank you."

"The pleasure was all mine" you replied. "What about doing this more often? You shyly asked.

"I don’t know about that.. phone sex was good but I’d rather fuck you next time”

[minnietrys]

Determination

◯ Cho Hyun-ju x Fem! Reader

△ Alt!Universe— Setting her determination as first she manages to call in hopes of your promise

▢ just a cute phone call :p (give me date ideas)

Cherish

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Thank you for all the support on cherish so here is the longer await part two ^^

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Deep breath, you’ve got this. Hyunju thought as she stared at your phone number, she can call you she can definitely do it. But what stopping her? Is it the thought you of not answering? Or what if you’re busy and she calls at the wrong time? What if you think she is a scam caller and block her?

Groaning in frustration she buries in face into her hands rethinking the wonderful moment you shared yesterday. Bringing a smile to her face she peeks though her fingers and get one more good look at your number but while scanning the paper her eyes land on the heart again.

Blushing and biting back her smile she sighs in delight. This is a good thing your finally coming out of your shell she thought to herself while she reaches out for her phone yet again.

Pushing in your digits she decides to put her determination first. Her determination of cherishing you. Her determination of finally and hopefully being happy.

Press call…it’s ringing…

“Hello?” A tried but delicate voice answers. It’s the voice she remembers from the coffee shop that said she was going to keep her sugar hostage if she didn’t text.

Trying to form words she lets the most embarrassing thing come out.. “Your sugar right?.”

“Huh?!?!” Hyunju immediately slaps herself on the forehead upon hearing your shock…what did she just say..?How can she mix up your name with sugar? How do you feel? Because basically someone you probably don’t remember just called you sugar…

“Umm…did you maybe get my phone number from a hooker called sugar?” She could hear your giggles but she won’t steep that low to get a hooker’s number.

“I’m so sorry..it just you told me to text you if not your going to keep the sugar hostage but then I asked if I can call you and you yes if I did I can buy you coffee but then the sugar stayed in my mind so I called you sugar.. I’m so sorry I didn’t mean that.” Hyunju rapping that out of mouth with a cry of embarrassment in her voice. She wanted to bury herself six feet under right now.

“Ohh Hyunju Unnie!” You said with excitement and relief wait did she just say she didn’t mean it…

You hear a hum on the other line but you quickly cut it off “So I’m not sugar..?” You asked in a teasing tone in hopes of getting the reaction you want.

“Yes ofc your sweet and kind like sugar but It’s just that I didn’t—” you can hear her panicking over the other line but she stops once she hears you laughing… smacking her lips she asks “are you teasing me?” You could almost hear her expression drop.

“Oh of couseee NOT! “ she can basically she your nose grow like Pinocchio though the call, though she may not know much about you. You’re not a good liar, you’re by far one of the worst and that makes her happy. Because everything that went down yesterday seems to not be a lie.

“Hmm if you say so, but say your the best kind of sugar” Hyunju couldn’t help but bite her lip as she tested the water with that tho you couldn’t help but smile and giggle “You are way more flirtatious than I thought” you had to admit.

“So you been thinking about me?” She couldn’t help but smile while holding but a small screech.

“Oh…I guess it’s my turn to be embarrassed.” you couldn’t help but feel the blood rush to your cheek but continued “Though your one of my best thoughts I do have to say.”

It’s was now Hyunju turn to feel the blood rush to her cheeks and she just froze meanwhile you screamed into your pillow scaring your roommate.

“Y/N! What happened” youngmi came running in with a broom looking like she was go attack if needed but she just saw you yelling into your pillow about admitting something.

Trying to catch your breath “I just admitted to someone very very pretty that’s she my best thought” you whined out “isn’t that a good thing?” She questioned while her face scrunched up. “I don’t know maybe! I mean I just met her a few days ago.. and I don’t wanna be pushy you know?” she saw your lip trembling again so she just threw the broom at you tried of your shit and snatching your phone.

“Hello, I’m so sorry my roommate y/n is stupid when it comes to people her type. Though I should mention please take her away, you can keep her.” wait ‘her type’ does that mean Hyunju is your type? Is that why you’re thinking about her?

Trying her hardest to not overreact Hyunju thinks fast for a reply “Um I can’t promise you that? What if she doesn’t want to?” Like come on Hyunju just can’t keep you because someone told her though she won’t mind. What is it that you want I mean if you want her to keep you she will.

“Oh trust me, she does…” youngmi says while side eyeing your overreaction. “You would be supporting a great cause!”

“What cause?” Hyunju said with curiosity like what in the world can that benefit. “The youngmi stress free cause!” She said out loud aimed at you to hear but all that happened was more screaming from you.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of that cause but I can for sure take her out for coffee, lunch, or dinner.” She might have been too scared to mention “date” cause who knows if it’s too early for that word.

“YOU HEARD THAT STUPID YOU GOT A DATE!” Well so much for too early. But what Hyunju heard next bought a big smile to her face.

“What!! Really?!?! All that manifesting work!”

“Hey stupid, guess what” youngmi said with an evil smirk causing your smile to drop.

“Is this another joke..?”

“Nope, you still on call with your soon to be girlfriend and you yelled all that” youngmi couldn’t contain her laughter anymore and passed you back your phone as she left your room.

“So um..about that date? This weekend?” You asked with hope of her not canceling after that whole ordeal. But all you heard was a beautiful giggle “you’re so cute, but yea this weekend.”

You both spent the next few hours getting to know each other bit better before your big date but when it was time to say goodbye the only thing you both could do was pout and promise to text each other till the weekend once you see each other again.

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Pass me those date ideas >.< did I proof read no… so if you saw any mistakes I’m not sorry I was enjoying watching hyunju edits

[na0koz]

can you pls write more toxic vi🤤

yes i Can!

the moment vi realised she actually likes you, your relationship instantly became impossibly more difficult. she avoids you even more and if you do hang out, she tries her best to keep your interactions to a minimum (fucking then leaving your apartment while you’re asleep).

after a couple of weeks of her acting up - somehow even more than she already had been - you called her about a thousand times until she picked up.

“the fuck do you want? christ…” she practically barked, running her hands through her hair as she leant on the front door of her apartment.

“i want you to hang out with me, violet! you’re acting even more like you hate me than usual recently, and i do not like it. if you want this to be over, just say it ‘cus i’ve had enough of you honestly,” you gush, sitting up in your bed and waving your hands around as if she was really in front of you.

there was a beat of silence, and you briefly thought she hung up on you when you brought your phone away from your ear. surprisingly, her contact was still displayed on the screen with the call still running.

“don’t call me violet,” her voice sounded softer than when she first answered your call. she sounded upset.

you scoffed loudly, “are you fucking kidding me? that’s all you have to say?”

more silence followed, and your patience was running thin.

“hello? i asked you a question.”

“don’t really know what you want me to say.”

you groaned at her tone of voice, bored and uninterested. “well for starters-“

vi was quick to interrupt you. “i don’t really have the energy for this. see you,” she hung up before you could even get a breath in.

in the following two weeks, you only saw vi once. even that was a result of her physically running into you by accident on a street near your apartment.

her eyes widened as she realised it was you who she’d bumped into, quickly changing her ‘watch where you’re fucking going’ to an ‘oh sorry’. she grimaced slightly at the way you gave her a horribly dirty look, clearly not too pleased to see her.

she swiftly made her way around you and hurried away. you could’ve sworn you heard her mumbling ‘fucking idiot’ to herself as she walked away.

about a week after that, you heard some loud knocking at your front door. groggily grabbing for your phone, you see that the time reads 4:23am. who the hell is at your door at this hour? you whine as you drag yourself up to answer.

swinging the door upon while rubbing sleep from your eyes, you’re faced with a slightly drunk vi leaning on your door frame.

“um?” you rasp, sleep clouding your voice.

“hey…” vi mumbles. “i.. i need you, [name].”

she slumped forward into your shoulder as she babbled, you trying your absolute hardest to hold her muscular form upright, hearing her whining out a ‘please’ as you reluctantly shut the door behind her.

“you can’t just show up asking to fuck after barely speaking to me for three weeks, vi.”

“what-? no no. i’m not here to fuck you. i need you, please.” she squeezed her eyes shut and groaned at the sudden brightness as you flicked the light on.

you couldn’t even muster anything to say, pushing her to sit down while you stand opposite her. she squints up at you in return, looking completely helpless. sighing at her messed up state, you decide to join her on the sofa.

“what?��� you question, trying your best not to get annoyed with her for showing up unannounced like this for the millionth time.

“just-“ she interrupted herself with a burp. “just like… hold me. please.”

before you can react, she leans herself onto you, resting her head in the space between your shoulder and chest. her weight pushed you to lie down on your sofa and she took the chance to make herself more comfortable.

her leg wrapped around you as she clutched your waist with one hand, using her free arm to push you to put your arms around her. she sighed shakily as your hand relaxed onto her back.

“sorry princess, i jus’ need this, okay?” she said quietly, her eyes drooping in time with the rise and fall of your chest.

you don’t say anything in return. you know she’s drunk, you can smell it on her, but a small part of yourself feels like she’s serious. drunk words are sober thoughts, right?

but of course, you wake up cold and with vi nowhere to be found. the only proof you have of her even being there was a faint smudge of her black eye makeup on your shirt.

she got scared and bailed in the middle of the night. again. she’s embarrassed, and toys between the ideas of either blocking you, changing her number or going back to your apartment and telling you how she really feels.

in the end, she doesn’t choose any of them. she can’t lose you completely, but she’s way too much of a coward to express her true feelings towards you. shocker.

[sonarspace]

hello!!! i love love love your writing but am not sure if you are taking requests (if it says on your blog somewhere, i apologize for missing it!).

i was wondering if you could write something for husband or boyfriend gojo taking care of sick reader 🥲, as i myself have a cold and am not feeling well at all ☹️. thank you so much!

an. nooo get well soon anony 😞🫂 i already had a similar idea in my drafts, so enjoy this drabble, i hope it makes you feel a tad bit better <3 ✶ content. established relationship. soft + suggestive

gojo wasn’t exactly known for his self-restraint—especially when it came to you.

“you know,” you mumbled, voice scratchy and thick with the weight of your cold, “hovering over me isn’t going to magically make me better.”

gojo perched at the edge of the bed, cross-legged, arms folded, watching you like he had nowhere else to be—like watching you was his favorite pastime. his eyes practically glittered with mischief as he grinned.

“hovering? i’m not hovering,” he shot back, leaning down until his forehead gently knocked against yours. “this is called… being attentive. loving. the perfect boyfriend, even.”

you groaned, shifting beneath the weight of the blanket, tugging it higher to escape the heat of his stare. “you’re breathing too loud to be the perfect anything.”

he hummed softly, entirely unbothered by your weak protests. if anything, it only encouraged him. his hand slipped beneath the blanket, finding your thigh with practiced ease.

“you’re hot,” he said, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “not in the fever way, though that’s definitely there too.”

you shoved at his chest weakly, but he barely budged, letting out an exaggerated gasp as if you’d wounded him. “you’re impossible.”

“big words for someone sniffling into my hoodie,” he teased, fingers trailing along your leg, inching closer to dangerous territory.

“satoru,” you warned, though even you could hear the lack of conviction in your voice.

he tilted his head, lips barely brushing your cheek now. “what? i’m just making sure you stay warm. gotta keep your circulation going, you know?”

“that’s not how circulation works,” you shot back, squirming when his hand slid further up your thigh, just beneath the hem of your shorts.

“sure it is. i read it somewhere,” he replied easily, shifting closer so his chest pressed against your back. his nose nuzzled into your hair, voice dropping to something smoother, deeper. “besides… if i get sick too, we can stay in bed all week.”

“you’ll regret that when you can’t breathe through your nose.”

“mmm. worth it.”

his palm settled low on your stomach now, thumb drawing lazy circles against your skin. every touch, every subtle shift of his fingers felt intentional, but not rushed—like he was more focused on teasing you than anything else.

“stop trying to seduce me while i’m sick,” you grumbled, though the way your body instinctively curled into him gave you away.

“oh, i’m not trying,” he murmured, lips grazing along the curve of your shoulder. “if i was trying, you’d already be sweating for reasons other than the fever.”

you rolled your eyes, but the heat blooming in your stomach had nothing to do with the illness.

“besides,” he continued, hand slipping beneath your hoodie now, his palm warm against your bare skin, “you’re the one cuddling up to me. i’m just a victim in all this.”

“victim, sure,” you muttered.

gojo shifted again, and suddenly you were in his lap, your back pressed against his chest, blanket tangled somewhere between you. his legs caged yours easily, and his arms wrapped snugly around your waist, anchoring you to him.

“better?” he asked, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“it’s too hot for this,” you groaned, squirming.

“you can take it off,” he whispered, tugging at the edge of your hoodie playfully.

you let out a soft laugh despite yourself. “you’re ridiculous.”

“i know,” he replied, voice light but with that familiar edge of affection. his lips brushed the side of your neck, and you could feel the smirk tugging at them.

his hands, large and steady, rested low on your stomach, but he didn’t push further. instead, he held you there, content to simply feel the steady rise and fall of your breath against him.

“i’ll be good,” he whispered, lips curling into a soft smile against your skin. “just let me stay like this a little longer.”

and maybe you were too tired to argue, or maybe you just liked the way his hands felt on you—either way, you let him.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: swearing, trauma, therapy, unprotected piv, oral sex (female receiving)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Part Twenty-Eight of Ink & Needle

The aftermath of Kit’s actions influences your daily life. You proposition Simon with the hope of moving forward.

Chapter Twenty-Seven // Chapter Twenty-Nine

ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

Three Months Later

Healing isn’t linear. It is not kind or forgiving. The strangeness of therapy is how it resembles a spiderweb, beautiful at a glance but a lie. There is nothing beautiful in facing what you wish to leave behind. Sticky and lethal and pure carnage rehashed over and over again until talking it out becomes a numbing dullness.

Hope therapy goes well today. Love you.

Evie’s text stares up at you from the phone screen. She’s been a good friend through all of this, giving you space yet standing by your side. How the roles have reversed, become opposite from where it all started.

Bravo’s wet nose pushes into your palm, forcing your attention away from the phone screen.

“Hello, Bravo,” you croon softly, scratching the underside of his chin. “You good boy. Best boy!” His tail whips around in a circle, kicking up a breeze.

Simon’s dog has attended every therapy session with you. At first, you thought is strange that Simon insisted on it, but now you can’t imagine not having the German Shepherd there. Nearly all of your appointments occur during 141 Ink’s business hours. Simon cannot join you in person, but he can send a piece of himself along.

“Where’s your dad?” you tease. “Do you see him?”

Bravo stretches his neck, glancing around for Simon. It lasts only a moment. He is clearly far more interested in the attention you’re giving him.

“He is right here.”

Simon’s voice wraps around like a warm hug. You went without it for so long that now it’s a treat every time you hear him speak.

Bravo pivots out of your touch, taking a step forward to situate himself between you and Simon.

Simon’s eyebrows rise slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest. The body language stands in stark contrast to his massive grin. “Protecting her, are you? Even from me?” Bravo half-whines, half-barks. Simon chuckles. “That’s my boy.”

He gives Bravo a quick pat on the head before stepping around the dog. You immediately lean into Simon, one hand pressing into his chest as he cups the side of your neck, his thumb resting on the front of your throat. There is a protective, nearly primal quality to the way Simon’s features shift as his attention turns to you

“Am I late?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No.” Presenting your mouth, Simon descends slowly, meeting you with a serenely sensual kiss.

All the quiet, simmering anxiety that sits in the back of your mind melts away like a last snow, leaving behind a plethora of green grass that reaches for the sun. Simon is your beacon in the dark, the candle flame that lights your way.

One kiss is not enough. You need a second. A third.

The old flame of desire snakes upward, slithering between your bones to settle in your chest. It is asking for the thing you’ve denied yourself the last three months—an intimacy you had with Simon before everything happened.

A fourth kiss. A fifth. Desire tightens its languid body, constricting until your breath catches.

“Get a room!”

The voice of a passing stranger breaks the enchantment, the building desire retreating to hide amongst brown leaves and sticks.

Your cheeks grow hot just as a scowl appears on Simon’s face. Shoulder’s straightening, Simon is gearing to tell the interloper off, but you grab at Simon’s hand the second he begins to turn. A light tug is all it takes. Just your touch, and Simon’s scowl recedes to a soft smile that he only ever gives to you.

With a quick shrug of his shoulders, Simon clears his throat and takes Bravo’s offered leash, wrapping it around his tattooed knuckles. He places his hand low on your back, ushering you toward his parked car.

“How was therapy?”

Simon asks every time—a loaded question.

You exhale through your nostrils, briefly glancing away from him because telling the truth is fucking hard, especially when it involves him. You settle on a half-lie.

“Fine,” you reply. “Productive.”

Fine? Yes. Productive? No.

Simon’s head tilts slightly, gaze assessing like he doesn’t entirely believe you. “Up for company today?”

This you can appreciate it. Simon may always ask how therapy went but he never pushes further than you’re willing to give.

“Not really,” you answer, this time truthfully.

Evie’s unanswered text is as much a reminder as Simon’s questions. Things are different now. Normal cannot be what it once was. There are fractures you hold in your heart, memories that you wish you could erase with a quick snap of the fingers.

Simon nods, apparently content with your answer. “Then we’ll go home.”

It’s a short walk to the car, but you savor every second, leaning against Simon with each step. He talks your ear off about nothing, filling the air with what he did at the shop today, and the customers he had even as he helps you into the car.

It’s a lovely distraction. Which is why Simon is doing it at all. He knows. He understands. Simon is not a chatty person, he’s usually blunt with his words, more to the point than anything else. He prefers fewer words than long-winded nothings, and him keeping you distracted like this goes against everything he’s comfortable with.

But Simon doesn’t know what you talk about in those sessions with the therapist, and you refuse to share it with him. He also doesn’t ask, and for that, you’re fucking grateful. You’re still coming to terms with it yourself, shuffling through the two and a half months you were gone.

Sometimes, you think things would be easier if Kit had just hurt you. That’s the expected thing, to be mutilated in unforgiveable ways. You think about his choices often, what was going through his head, and why he never raised a single hand to you. The silence you received instead is almost worse somehow. Kit refused to speak with you, and the only other person who saw was the man that brought you your meal. He refused to say anything to you—refused to even glance in your direction. It wasn’t until the coffin that you heard the first human voice other than your own in two months.

And the voice was Simon’s. Not Kit’s. Simon’s.

Today, you talked about the coffin.

Not that you actually remember it. You only saw it after you were released from the hospital. Simon took you to some military base because Captain Price thought that seeing it in person might trigger a memory. He was firmly against it, insisted that you didn’t have to do this, but you pushed back, wanting to see what that monster put you in. Simon backed down, but setting your gaze on the thing that you nearly died in turned your limbs to stone and your mind to smeared jelly.

Simon was fucking furious. You’ve seen him upset—and you thought you knew what anger looked like on him. How wrong you were. Kyle stepped in and escorted you out of the room. You might have been on the other side of the wall but it only damped the screaming match that happened. Their words were heated, the exchange loud, and though you didn’t catch all of it, you picked up pieces.

Don’t involve her again.

This is my price to pay.

She’s suffered enough.

Kyle, while leaning against the wall next to you and fidgeting with his watch, had given you a solemn smile, an attempt to reassure but only left you feeling hollow.

“Don’t fret over it,” he had said. “Simon loves you is all. Price knows that.”

“They’re screaming at each other,” you murmured.

Kyle shrugged, the smile becoming more sincere and genuine. “Price will hug him after he’s done yelling. Simon will grunt.” He winked. “All good, love. Promise.”

Simon never brought you to another military base or anything to do with what happened again. If anyone reached out to him to insist, you never heard about it.

But of what you do remember, it’s of what happened before the coffin, how Kit smiled when he brought you your meal. You didn’t know it was drugged then. He hid it well, disguising the taste and texture. You should have known something was wrong when Kit sat on the floor across from you and watched you gobble up every bite. But you had been hungry, and having another person near felt so comforting in the moment.

“Movie sound good?”

You inhale sharply, turning toward Simon’s voice. He’s standing next to you, passenger door open, the middle of the brow creased with concern by your reaction. The two of you are already home.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. “What did you ask?”

The corners of his lips turn downward. You’ve slipped off again—left reality for a bit.

“A movie,” repeats Simon. “After dinner. Thought we could stay in tonight.”

Bravo shoves his face between the front passenger seat and the interior of the car. His dark eyes dart between the two of you, impatience clear in the way his tail thump thump thumps against the backseat.

“Great,” you reply, slipping out of the car.

Simon’s gaze remains impassive, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes your hand, Bravo trotting along behind the two of you.

Inside, Simon takes your coat, hanging it up next to his before heading into the kitchen to start the kettle. It’s April now, but the weather is still chilly on occasion, and you could go for a tea.

“The new visa should arrive soon,” says Simon, flipping the tap on the electric kettle. “Price made a few calls.” Grabbing two mugs from the cupboard, he sets them down on the counter before turning around to face you. “Could get you a different one. A longer stay.” He pauses, a hopefulness twinkling in his eye. “Citizenship even.”

With everything that’s happened, Simon still wants you here, with him. Hands clasped in front of you, you meander into the kitchen, almost sauntering in the way you approach him. Simon’s eyelids grow heavy, that earlier desire forming in his gaze. The two of you have touched and kissed, but the few times any further intimacy has been initiated, it’s been by Simon. You weren’t committed then, still confused and dripping with a sense of being unclean.

When you’re ready. No rush.

Respect for you outweighs his desire. Simon made you aware in other ways—subtle glances and touches, gentle compliments—but never pushed, never made you feel like sex is an expectation. He handed you the ball and bat with the only request that you swing when ready.

“Is that what you want, Simon? For me to stay?”

As you draw closer, Simon’s hands instinctually reach out to you. You do not shy away but step into his embrace. Those large, tattooed hands of his clutch your waist, pulling you closer until you’re nearly flush against him.

“There are few things I want more.”

“Only a few?” you tease, and you’re greeted with a warm smile.

“Nothing, then.”

The kettle starts to boil, but Simon ignores his, all of his attention focused on you.

“I don’t want to watch a movie. Think I’d like to do something else.”

Simon shrugs. “Course, love. Whatever you want.” He shifts slightly to plop a teabag into each mug and then carefully pours the water over the top. “We can watch the next episode of that show—”

“No,” you interject, and Simon sets the kettle down. “I mean—” You lick your lips, unsure of how you want to approach this. “I want to…try.”

Simon blinks. “Try,” he says slowly. “Try…what?”

It takes every ounce of control to not laugh at Simon’s confusion. Placing your hand on his chest, you slide it lower, and lower still until the confusion on his face melts away and realization dawns. Without breaking eye contact, Simon grasps your wrist and draws your hand away as it falls dangerously close to brushing against his groin.

“Only if you’re ready,” he murmurs, though you hear the hunger. “Don’t do it on my account.”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here, love.”

As you press into him, Simon’s resolve splinters. Your face is upturned, lips slightly parted in offer, and Simon’s mouth is just shy of connection. You breathe him in just as he does you. There is nothing you want more, to be consumed by him, to reconnect in the one way you’ve been without.

Simon lightly grasps the bottom-half of your face. “After dinner,” he says, and the curling need pooling low in your belly squirms with discontent.

“Now,” you breathe, a demand.

Simon’s eyelids flutter. Close. He takes a deep, steadying breath before opening them again. “If I sink inside you right now, I won’t last.”

The admission only enflames the already burning embers. You desperately need to cross this hurdle, to find this intimacy with Simon again. With one hand free, you gently cup him through his jeans, rubbing, finding him hard and wanton.

Simon growls, and then you’re being lifted. He shoves everything out of the way, hot water spilling into the sink and onto the floor. The tea is forgotten, the bags briefly floating in the sink before the water disappears down the drain.

“I’m not taking you like this,” says Simon, forehead pressing against yours. “We’re having tea. Dinner. And only after will I indulge you.”

“Think the tea is ruined, Simon.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, closing the distance to seize you in a fierce kiss.

Everything about it is honey-drenched. Sticky. Slightly sweet. You open for him, and he goes for a taste, his hand on your throat like a collar. This is the passion you remember; the wanton need you crave.

It is not gone. Only buried.

As your hands roam, the kissing only becomes more desperate. Your thighs trap his waist, but he makes no move to retreat. Not like you could stop him. He’s far stronger than you, and even in that strength he’s aware of it, not grasping too tightly.

Fingers delve, and in seconds you have the front of Simon’s jeans open, slipping your hand inside to find his warmth. As your fingers brush his skin, Simon breaks the kiss, nearly choking on his next breath as he draws back.

“Dinner first,” he groans, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand from his pants. “Food first.”

“You’re a tease, Simon Riley,” you whimper.

He chuckles, low and knowing. “Like making you squirm.”

Dinner is a much longer affair than you’d like, as if Simon has an eternity to feed you. Every time you try to help, he shoos you off, telling you to relax and enjoy your cuppa. You eventually give up, curling up with Bravo on the sofa watching reality television as Simon putters about.

When he finally hands you your plate, you scarf it down in record time, promptly setting it aside to stare at Simon longingly.

“After,” he repeats.

“Buzzkill.”

Simon reaches over and squeezes your thigh, returning to his meal, gaze locked on the television. You try to refocus, but your mind is locked on a singular goal like you’re a man thinking with his dick and not his brain.

With a final scrape of his fork across his plate, Simon clears it, sighing with contentment. Reaching for your plate, he starts cleaning up, still insisting that you don’t move from the couch at all. This time, you don’t put up a fight, deciding it is better to snuggle with Bravo.

“Bed, Bravo,” snaps Simon. The German Shepherd grumbles as he lifts his head from your lap and dramatically slides off the couch. “To think you used to sniff out bombs,” mutters Simon, shaking his head. “Off with you.”

Bravo disappears down the hall, and then Simon is turning to you, holding out a hand in offering. “Come here to me.”

The delivery in his voice leaves no room for denial. Pushing off from the couch and reaching for his hand is easy. You want this—need this.

Simon’s arms go around you, holding you close. That soft smile returns and you answer it with one of your own.

“Still want to do this?”

“I’m sure.”

Simon’s thumb lightly grazes the line of your jaw. “Tell me if you want to stop. Promise me.”

“Promise,” you murmur.

“That’s my girl.”

With your hand in his, Simon walks backward into the bedroom. He pulls you in as he shuts the door, teasing a kiss but not giving it to you. You try to steal one anyway, but Simon knows you too well, leaning away at the last second as he slips his hand from yours.

There is no mask. No anymore. Haven’t seen it at all unless he’s at the shop, working. His sweatshirt goes, followed by his shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up. Even in the dark with a just a hint of moonlight, you can glimpse him.

Corded muscle. Endless tattoos.

Your hands copy his movements, removing an article of clothing one at a time. All this time you’ve been rushing, and now that you’re here, the undressing is slow. Languid. Simon is done before you, and even in the dark you notice the way his hands clench and unclench with the anticipation of touching you.

You barely have your socks and pants off before Simon is grasping for you, hands groping ass and hip, mouth coming down on yours with desperation. In this, you feel utterly wanted, as if there is nothing he requires more than to be one with you.

Simon’s erection presses into your lower stomach, an insistent thing that both of you ignore. His kisses are your favorite, you want them forever, and that is all you can focus on even as your grow slicker between the thighs.

You drape your arms over his shoulders and then connect them behind his neck, clinging like he’ll disappear if you don’t. Simon’s hands slide over your back and down to your ass, filling his hands as squeezing. Angling your hips up a bit, he rubs himself against you, a low groan leaving him as the base of his erection brushes the side of your clit.

Forget slow. Forget the fact that Simon admitted he wouldn’t last.

Unlocking your arms from around his neck, you reach back and grab one of Simon’s groping hands. Bringing it between your bodies, you guide his fingers to your pussy, desperately needing him to touch you. His thick fingers slide easily over your sex, your arousal apparent.

You shiver from the contact, but Simon? Simon growls, low and feral, and utterly primal. Flattening three fingers against your sex, Simon parts you, the middle finger teasing your entrance with a soft caress. It hovers, and then starts to slide in.

Simon’s lips move away from your mouth and to your chin, then to your jaw, and then your throat. More of his finger enters.

“I missed you,” you whimper as he settles to the knuckle. Simon’s teeth graze your neck as his finger begins to slide back out. “Every. Day.”

Simon adds a second finger, pumping both in perfect rhythm. “I’m here now, love. Right here. Not going anywhere.”

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp as Simon’s palm rubs against your clit. “I—love—”

“Love, what?” coaxes Simon.

“You. I love you.”

Simon’s teeth no longer graze but they don’t bite down. They trace a line up your throat before taking a nip at your bottom lip. His fingers begin to retreat again but you grasp the back of his hand, pressing, urging him back inside.

“Don’t be gentle with me,” you murmur, rocking your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers. “Fuck me the way you want to. Please.”

Simon’s head tilts to the side. “You sure about that, love?”

You whimper, nodding, pussy clenching around his fingers as his palm lightly rubs against your clit again. It’s lovely—slowly building that orgasm you so desperately crave. But then Simon’s fingers are gone and in his mouth, sucking them clean.

Your brain short circuits, unable to comprehend the change until Simon is guiding you onto all fours on the bed. He places a hand on your upper back, urging your front into the mattress as your ass stays up in the air. Guiding your legs apart, you expect him to settle between, to mount you and rut.

His mouth finds you instead, tongue parting your pussy from clit to opening then back again. You press back against his mouth and Simon makes a feast of you. The orgasm is a slap in the face. It doesn’t arrive slowly but as a thunderous force, nearly smashing you over the head with its intensity.

Thighs quiver. Legs shake. You cry out so loud you think Simon might stop. He doesn’t. He only continues through the ordeal, urging toward another and yet another until there are tears in your eyes. Only then does he draw back, wettened lips kissing the backs of your thighs and the curve of your ass.

His strong hands rub up and down the length of your back. Soothing and comforting at first, but then demanding, helping you turn until you’re facing him. Limbs like jelly, you allow Simon to draw you into his lap, to ease your legs to fall on either side of him, to help guide you to and then onto his cock.

“Want me to stop?” he asks, voice gruff.

You vehemently shake your head. “No. Want you. Always.”

With a final effort, Simon rocks his hips up just as he presses down on your hips. Every inch is inside of you, stretching, filling. You’re full of him, but it’s not enough. You need him to move.

“Simon,” you beg.

Shifting his arms, he supports you with his hands and forearms as well as his thighs. It forces your legs up and open, ankles and feet dangling. A slice of moonlight cuts through the room, highlighting the space where your bodies meet. With your forehead resting against his cheek, you watch as Simon guides you up and down his length, disappearing and then reappearing with a shine.

Keeping one arm hooked behind his neck, you reach between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. You create a v with index and middle finger, parting your pussy to open you up more, to capture the place where Simon’s cock penetrates you.

He’s hardly keeping it together as you tease the base of his cock with a fingernail Simon’s whimper instinctually has your pussy tightening around him.

“I want you to come inside me,” you whisper, breath brushing over his cheek. Simon’s hands tighten, fingers digging into your flesh as he ceases sliding and starts thrusting. “Please,” you add with a hint of longing.

He cannot say no. Simon never does.

In seconds, Simon has you on your back, flattening you against the bed. With one hand above your head, fisting the sheets, he rests the other on the inner thigh of your left leg, holding it wide and open for a better angle.

Simon’s first thrust is brutal. He buries his face against your neck, and doesn’t fucking stop. Every time your bodies connect, he grunts loudly. The muscles in his back bulge beneath your palms.

This is not healing. This is carnage. This is a burial.

Simon is digging your grave but not to leave you to rot. You are to be wholly submerged, wholly undone in the dark, to be thread unspooled. You will linger in this grave, in Simon’s arm, to know only of him. And then, only then, will you be unearthed from the dirt.

In the morning, with the light, there will be a calmness that smothers all. A closing of a door that will never be reopened. There is no definition in past, only a resounding future, and you must take it—seek it.

“I love you,” groans Simon.

His words are what does it, that breaks the flood, and shows you the way forward.

“You’re mine.”

These words are not a groan, more a plea. You’re mine because he wants it so, and all you need to do is agree.

Mine.

Mine.

“Love you.”

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[cjlouwho]

Hello my love ❤️

How about "board game dispute" for a Bucktommy drabble

anything for you, love! Although it went a little long... oops 😬

"Well-"

"Don't say it."

"I really don't see a way around it, Tommy."

"We're not-"

"We have to get a divorce."

Tommy sighed. "We've talked about this before, Evan. You're not hearing me out. Relationships are about compromise."

"I compromised when we named our last daughter Jade. I don't understand why you won't just give me this."

"Because I am not sending our child to school and letting her be bullied over having the name Ambrosia. It's a fruit salad, Evan! She'll be walking into kindergarten with her two dads and telling everyone she's a fruit salad!"

Tommy took a breath, reaching over to take Buck's hand. The second he touched him, Buck jerked his hand away and crossed his arms. "I don't think you're giving kids today enough credit. It's not the way-"

"It's exactly the way it used to be! Sometimes it's worse than it used to be and-

"I really think you-"

"you should listen to-"

"Guys!" Maddie yelled from across the table.

They went silent, both turning to her. That's when they noticed she was the only other one at the table.

"Where... Where'd everyone go?" Buck asked.

"Hen and Karen left ten minutes ago, and Howie headed to bed five minutes after that. This isn't even how Life is played, you guys! You don't have to name the children at all." She picked up one of the pegs and tapped it on the table, causing both Tommy and Buck to gasp at their "child" being potentially harmed. "See," she said. "Not real."

Tommy pursed his lips and Buck unfolded his arms. Maddie was hopeful she got through to them, until-

"What about Amber?" Buck asked.

"That's fin- Wait, how are you spelling Amber? Please tell me there isn't a y, Ev-"

"Just two, I promise!"

"No!"

"You're being stubborn!"

"You're being unreasonable!"

"You know what," Maddie stood, backing away from the table, "I'm going to bed. You two can see yourselves out. Don't forget to lock up."

Buck waved her off, keeping his focus on Tommy. "One y?"

"No!"

"Tommy!"

"Evan!"

[kiemiu]

𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄: 𝓦𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝓣𝐨 𝓒𝐚𝐟𝐞́ 𝓖𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐮𝐦

pairing kang sae-byeok x reader | wc: 1.5k

summary -> being called in to work an empty shift with your best friend gia at Café Gippeum led to gossip, reminders, and a sudden revelation that you might not be ready to face yet. warnings -> mentions of toxic relationship, hints of possible physical abuse. ⚠️ deeper dive into reader as a character so, only a minuscule mention of Sae-Byeok this chapter.

( beneath the quiet masterlist )

12:56PM

𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐃 down the panes of your window in waves. The harsh thuds create a comforting rhythm that kept you lulling in and out of sleep. You laid lazily in bed, half of your body covered by the blanket as you laid on your stomach. Your face squished against your pillow, facing your bedroom window as one of your legs peeked out of the blanket, haphazardly dangling off the edge of the bed.

You let out a small sigh, enjoying the time you had to just be without any worries even if it was for a split second. Your ears switching back and forth from the rain to the sound of your tv playing a game show you couldn't quite remember the name of, always mumbling out the answers to the questions before the contestant and surprisingly getting them right. "If this show was still around I'd be a millionaire." you murmured to no one in particular.

The euphoric feeling of boredom interrupted by the intense sound of your ringtone cutting through the tranquil atmosphere. You merely groaned in response, turning away from your phone that buzzed insistently on your nightstand and covering your head with the plushness of your pillow.

Your hands loosen your grip on the side of your head when the buzzing stopped, only to let out another much louder frustrated groan at the sudden continuation of the ringing. You pulled yourself up, swiping your phone off of your nightstand to answer the call, having to take a deep breath before responding.

"Hello?"

A sing-song call of your name unknowingly had a grin grown on your face. "Yes, Gia?" you asked, your eyebrows raising as you shifted to lay on your back, already being prepared for her to ask her infamous question. "Can you come in today? I don't wanna work alone." she asked, you mouthed her words in a mocking way, able to hear the pout in her voice through the phone.

"You never wanna work alone." you murmur back, already swinging your legs off the edge of your bed to get ready. "This coffee shop is so borinnng." she whined. You could picture her now, leaning against the countertop with her head thrown back, phone to ear as if she wasn't at work. "Then why don't you quit, hm? You have plenty of sugar daddies." you joke, sifting through piles of clean, yet unfolded laundry on your window seat.

"They're only for the moment. I get whatever I can out of them for a week or whatever and leave. You can never get too dependent on a sugar daddy." She murmured. "And why's that?" you asked, placing your phone on speaker to change out of your sleepwear.

"Because- they start to get comfortable, yknow? they wanna start asking you for stuff when you're the recipient. like, dude— I'm just here so I can get a Hermès bag, I don't wanna eat lunch with you and talk about stocks and shit." she drones on and on, chewing and smacking noises heard on the other end.

"Don't you think you kinda owe it to them since you're taking their-" "Fuck no!"

A laugh erupts from you as you gather the rest of your belongings, slinging your purse over your shoulder. "Well, okay, if you say so. That's why you're stuck at Café Gippeum working with me and not on a private jet in Cabo." you reiterated. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. Now get your ass over here before I die of boredom." Beep.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"There's my favorite girl." Gia shouts, arms thrown in the air with a wide grin as she walks over to engulf you in a hug. You smiled, leaning into her hug, even with both of your arms being filled.

"Hi, gigi." you murmur quietly, placing a quick peck on her cheek before separating yourself from her hug. "So, what's new?" she asked, trailing behind you. "Besides the fight you got into with your hairbrush this morning." she added on, jumping onto the counter with a growing smirk.

You drop your items on an unoccupied table, uncaring of where your belongings laid considering the deserted coffee shop. "Ha-ha. So funny." you deadpan.

"But if you're really interested, we got a new kid at the orphanage." you added on, hoisting yourself onto the countertop across from her.

"And?" "Annnd, funnily enough, his older sister pick-pocketed me to pay for the kid to stay there for the first month."

A long silence followed your sentence, you almost felt like you were in the Adam Sandler movie 'Click' with how she paused all of her movements. "Come again."

"Yeah, I mean-I know I should be mad but..I don't know I just felt kinda bad for them instead." "SHE PICK-POCKETED YOU?!" Gia added, suddenly hoisting herself from the countertop across from you, shaking your figure back and forth to try and regain some type of sense in you.

"I know, I know." You mutter, leaning into her. There was more you wanted to say to Gia, more you could've said but you didn't. Deciding to bite your tongue on your recent thoughts about Sae-Byeok.

"Anyway, the 1st is coming up soon. Are you excited?" She suddenly asked, her hands sliding down your arms to engulf your hands. Your head tilted in confusion, eyebrows furrowing as you looked at her for any hint of what she might be talking about. "Excited—for what exactly?"

"Your boyfriend is coming back from Australia, remember? You know his whole 3 month summer program that he went to for his English paper?...Don't tell me you have short term memory loss."

You could hear the ringing in your ears get louder as Gia's voice faded into the distance. How could you have forgotten?

The reminder of his return suddenly crashing a heavy weight down onto your chest, each breath becoming more shallow than the last. You were afraid to see him again. Your last departure still sat heavy on your mind like a fresh wound. The unresolved argument, the remnants of glass sitting around your bedroom, the cuts on your fingertips that stung just as much as his words did that night.

The distance was a relief, not having to be suffocated by the dark cloud that followed him everywhere he went. You never told anyone about what happened that night, not even your own Mother despite her questioning you non-stop so, you couldn't quite place the blame on Gia for being excited for you.

Noticing your hesitance, Gia tapped one of her manicured fingers on the tip of your nose. "You okay? Did I say something wrong."

"No, no. I just completely forgot he was coming back so soon." you replied, a weak smile making its way on your face, unknowingly starting to shift on your feet. The smile on Gia's face fell completely. "What's wrong, hun?"

"Nothing, it's just we left on a bad note, so I'm a bit nervous to see him again." You answered, eyes drifting off to look out of the window.

Gia 'tsked' at your nervousness, a careless wave thrown over her shoulder before saying "Oh, please. David is obsessed with you, he won't hold any grudges."

You wanted to tell her that him holding a grudge was the least of your worries, it was more so him existing in your space at all that made you worry. Not to mention your lack of physical and sexual attraction to him, or more so people of the same sex as him. Your feelings starting to deter away from men and focus more on the women you had been avoiding for years. Women like Gia.

Gia was one of those people who didn't need to announce their presence, you could feel the atmosphere shift the moment she made her way into any room. Standing with her chin held high as if she could oversee the stars and galaxies combined, even at the mere height of 157cm.

She was loud, outgoing, something directly from a magazine, in a way she was everything you weren't. Red lipstick stained lips, and long black hair that cascaded down her shoulders like the deep depths of the river.

Recent discoveries and confusing thoughts lead you to believe that it wasn't envy that you felt for Gia like you thought. Nor was it admiration, but possibly a confusing want. A desperate desire to be or to be with her, you couldn't decide. You didn't know if that was simply the effect Gia had on people or if your conscience had turned a glaring mirror towards you, showcasing that your faulty mask was starting to crack and you couldn't hide behind your carefully calculated facade anymore to fit in, not like it worked for you anyway.

Before your thoughts could drift off too far into the reality of your sexuality, the glowing clock on the wall showcased your need to be somewhere else. "It's movie night at the orphanage so I have to go." you announced, a quick farewell being sent to Gia before you gather your things to leave, a burning question resting on your conscience.

" Who Am I? "

NEW ENTRY ! NEW ENTRY ! NEW ENTRY ! NEW ENTRY !

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

SEO SOOJIN as HAN GIA

" every girls best friend. "

' 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ' 📷 : @miabcuzz @twicesuuui @kissyslut @kritkalhit @st4rcs @dumbbellxo @theforestchoseme3 @wlvlurvsfimmia @genshinenjoyer @theweirdanimation @ch-3-rry @nenukkjhj @giaqnn @crack240 @pookalicious-hq @laurenkenss @sheinhamood @pooksterrr @bbynai @diorzs @beaaluv @colorfulkittenperfection @yourl0caltrash @kidicaruslover911 @sherryuki-callmeyuki @i0nic02 @knfthxv @mina-has-been-here

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: hello again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Andy comes up the stairs and you back up. Your adrenaline continues to pound in your skull. You inhale sharply and cough. He slows as he gets to the top. 

“How are you doing?” He asks cautiously. 

You nod and gulp, “fine. I’m... fine.” 

He closes his eyes and nods. When he opens them again, the intensity behind his blue irises makes you wince. “I’m sorry if I scared you.” 

“It’s okay,” you grasp the handle of the oxygen tank with both hands, keeping it in front of you like a shield. 

“It’s not okay. Your mom is wrong, you know that, right?” 

Your eyes dart back and forth, “she’s--” 

“I know she’s your mom and you love her, because you’re a good girl, but I don’t want to hear excuses for her.” 

You frown and flicks away a shell of tears with your lashes. “Sorry, Andy.” 

“Don’t apologise to me, okay?” He sighs and pushes his head back as he grips his hips. “Look,” he looks down the hallway. “We’re gonna figure this out, together. Alright, sweetheart?” 

You lower your gaze. You still can’t accept that your mom is just gone. That you’re here with just Andy. 

“She won’t stay mad--” 

“You can’t be serious? You can’t go back to her. Sweetheart, you’re sick and she’s not making it any better.” 

“It wasn’t that hard,” you murmur. 

His face flashes with concern and hurt, “that doesn’t matter.” His jaw ticks, “let me see your arm.” 

“What?” 

“Where she hit you, let me see it.” 

You pull your arm back and put it behind you, “it’s not--” 

He shakes his head, “I know it hurts. Even if you don’t show me, it doesn’t undo what she did or what I saw.” He sniffs and rubs his nose, “besides, I’m a lawyer, I kind of have to report that sort of thing.” 

“Report? Oh,” you whimper. “Please, don’t.” 

“Sweetheart,” he exhales. 

“Please, Andy. I won’t go back but I don’t her to be in trouble.” 

You look at him, the irritation stitched into his forehead. He purses his lips and drops his hand form his hip. He lets out a resigned breath. 

“Alright, for now. We’ll just do one thing at a time,” he girds. “Let’s go pick up that mess.” 

He steps past you and heads down the hall. You follow him, the wheels on the tank squeaking. He enters the guest room and kneels to gather the mess spilled from the belt bag. You near and bend to help. He glances up. 

“Sweetie, please, you should sit down,” he says. 

“I can help,” you insist as you grab your lip balm. At the same time, he reaches for it and clutches your hand by accident. You flinch away and recoil.  

He doesn’t say a word as he continues to gather everything. He checks a pill bottle before he tucks it away. You peek at his face and notice the red blemish deepening on his cheekbone. The slap was loud, it sounded painful. 

“Are you okay?” You ask. 

“I’m not mad at you,” he assures as he keeps his head down. 

“No, uh, that,” you point at his cheek. "Does it hurt?"

He stops, cradling the belt bag in one hand as he touches his cheek with the other. “Not really,” he says. 

You reach out, “here, I’ll take it.” 

He hands over the bag and you snap it around your waist, careful to keep it from tangling with your oxygen tube. He stands and clears his throat. 

“This room works for you?” He asks. 

You peer around then back at him. 

“You’ll be here for a while so... I could grab you more blankets. A fan?” 

You shake your head, “this is fine.” 

He clicks his tongue and looks past you to the window, “I’m going to make some calls.” 

“To the police? You said--” 

“Not right now,” he shows his palms. “I’m just... I got work, still, and a few other things. Sweetheart,” he steps closer, “you just relax, okay? It’s been a long morning. And if you need anything, my office door will be open, alright?” 

You scrunch up your lips and nod. It’s all you can do. You teeter around and sit on the side of the bed. You brace the oxygen tank to keep yourself upright. 

“You sure you’re okay?” 

“This is... normal for me,” you croak. “My mom’s right. I’m a burden. I’m too sick...” 

“She’s not right,” he insists. “Lay down, sweetheart. Take it easy. I’ll be about an hour and then we can chat a bit more. There’s a lot to go through.” 

You stay as you are. You wait. He lingers before he finally strides out of the room. He leaves the door open as you sniffle at your lap. What does he mean? A lot to go through? 

Oh, this is bad. You’re so lost. What do you do? You’re not Andy’s responsibility. If you do go back to your mom, she’s going to be so mad. Oh no, oh no, oh no. You wipe your nose and gulp. Why do you have to be so worthless? 

🩶

You can’t remember when you slumped onto your side. It doesn’t really matter. Most days you spend like that; dizzy, tired, and sick to your stomach. That day is worse.  

You want to be home. Not with your mother, just in your room, with your figurines and your books. With the familiar. You stare at the wall as you listen to the airiness of the strange house. Cars pass with soft swishing noises and a few voices come from the suburban scene outside. 

Andy’s footsteps precede him up the stairs. You see his shadow as he approaches the guest room and you make yourself sit up. What you don’t expect, is the other set of steps or another figure. You bounce slightly, expecting your mother, but finding only a stranger. A man. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Andy asks. 

You stare at the man then grimace at Andy. He stands just inside the door as the other man lingers at his shoulder. 

“You said you wouldn’t call the cops,” you squeak. 

“Oh,” Andy looks at the other man who gives a grin. “He’s not--” 

“Hi,” the man says your name. “I’m Dr. Kemp. A friend of Andy’s.” 

Your eyes flick between them. “It’s just a bruise.” You cover your forearm where the tenderness thrums. 

“A bruise?” He repeats. “I can look at that too, but I’m just here for a check-up.” 

“A check-up? I have a doctor. I have doctors,” you argue. 

“He’s just making sure everything is normal, sweetheart,” Andy says. 

“I could’ve called Dr. Hawes.” 

“You could but I don’t think he’d be able to see you at short notice, this is just a precaution.” Andy explains. 

“I’ll be quick, okay?” Dr. Kemp says as he nears and puts his leather bag next to you. “We’ll do the standard run through, alright?” 

You pout and shrug, “okay. I’m sorry, sir.” 

“It’s okay.” He assures you, “now, I don’t have your records so just a few questions.” 

You nod and your eyes drift to the wall. Questions. There's always questions. You answer the same ones over and over. It’s just like when you had to sit in court. 

“So, I see you’re on oxygen,” he begins, “is that something you need all the time or is it just now and then?” 

“Always,” you answer. 

“Alright, and have you been diagnosed with a specific condition that requires it?” 

“Several. Cystic fibrosis, asthma, other things...” 

“Hm, okay, you’re doing good. I know the questions can get annoying,” he says. “Do you have dizziness?” You nod. “Nausea?” Another nod. “Muscle spasms? Chest pains?” Yes and yes. 

“Even with the tank?” He prompts. 

“Yes, sir,” you reply bluntly. 

“Right, let’s listen to your heart.” 

He unzips the bag and takes out a stethoscope. You stand up stiffly as he comes closer. He points to the bottom of your shirt. “You mind?” You shake your head and he tugs it up, slipping his arm beneath. You blanch as your eyes meet Andy. You almost forgot about him. 

Kemp puts the cold stethoscope on your chest. He moves it around. Across the top, then beneath, closer to your lungs. He listens intently. He hums and removes it, fixing your shirt for you. 

He then starts with the other tests; temperature, blood pressure, eye response. He gives a thoughtful look then crosses his arms. He considers you for a moment. 

“I want you to try something for me, okay?” 

You nod once more. 

“I need you to take off your oxygen.” 

“What?” You yelp. 

“Just for a few minutes, alright? I’m a doctor, right? You’ll be okay.” 

You bat your lashes and glance at Andy again. He dips his chin. He watches intently. You look at the floor and unhook the tub from around your ears. You drag it off your nose and let it hang. 

“Alright, how are you feeling?” Kemp asks. 

You shrug. He just stands there. You do too. You sway slightly, confused. 

“You having any issues?” He intones. 

You shake your head. 

“Alright, just a small test. Hold your breath for me,” he bends his arm and looks at his wrist watch, “we’re going to see how long you can do it. Tell me when you stop.” He pinches the small golden face, “three, two, one.” 

You hold your breath as your eyes widen. Your lungs are full but not horribly so. You search the room in a panic. What if you pass out? Your panic rises and makes you itch but you keep your breath in. He waits and waits and waits. 

You let it out suddenly, “I can’t--” you gasp. “See, I can’t.” 

“A minute forty-seven,” he taps his watch, “pretty standard. Definitely pretty good for someone with bad lungs.” 

“A minute... no, it wasn’t that long. Was it?” 

Andy shifts as his jaw squares. His brows furrow. He looks angry. Kemp peeks back at him and turns back to you. 

“I’m going to review your records. I’ll put a call in to Hawes.” 

“Why?” You ask. 

“Just to make sure I’m getting a full picture. Right now, you’re doing just fine. I’d say you’re doing rather well,” he squeezes your shoulder. “What I want you to do is to take it easy on this.” He touches the oxygen tube. “If you feel out of breath, by all means, put it on, five to ten minutes, but not 24/7.” 

“But I need it,” you whimper. 

“I know you feel like you do, but I’m the doctor, right? I understand you have a lot going on but your lungs aren’t bad enough to warrant constant oxygen. I’ll be back tomorrow once I get the chart,” he says. “Andy has my number.” 

Your lip quivers. You don’t understand. You need the air. That’s what mom says. And when you forget to put it back on, she gets so mad. 

“You having trouble right now?” He asks. 

You stare at him and take a breath, and another, and another. “No,” you answer. 

“There ya go. You got Andy. He'll keep an eye on you,” he packs away his bag. 

“Thanks, Steve,” Andy says as he holds out his hand. 

“We’re even,” Kemp shakes his hand then looks back at you, “see ya tomorrow.” 

“Oh, okay, sir,” you eke out. 

He leaves and Andy gives you a nod before he follows. You listen as they go downstairs. You sit on the bed and clasp your oxygen tube in your hands. You look at the tank and frown. 

It doesn’t make sense. You don’t feel like you’re struggling. You feel like you’re breathing better, actually. It’s strange. Maybe it’s the adrenaline. 

Andy returns and you push your shoulders back. He enters tentatively, “well?” 

“I won’t...” you reach over and turn the dial to cut the supply. “It’s off.” 

“Maybe he can help. More than the other doctors,” Andy says. “Er, you know, you don’t have to hide up here. I’m done for the day so I’m free and uh, if you’re hungry, we can order?” 

“Not right now,” you say and hang your head. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s a lot,” he says. “You got time, sweetheart. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here, okay?” 

[rustedhearts]

the one where you forget to call boxer!steve when he’s away for a fight and he freaks out (flashback, 1989)…

tags: jealous/possessive!steve (what's new), they're both just egging each other on lol, ending is lame because I just wanted to finish this el oh el.

rolly's blurbs

. • ☆ . ° .• °. *₊ ° . ☆ . • ☆ . ° .• °. *₊ ° . ☆ . • ☆ . ° .• . • ☆ . ° .• °.

“this is libby! sorry, i can’t come to the phone right now—“

“fuck.” steve slams the phone back into the cradle and scrapes his nails over his scalp.

it’s the seventh call he’s made tonight. seventh. when the alarm clock on the motel nightstand flashed 8:00, he eagerly turned toward the phone and watched through pulsing, bloodshot eyes—waiting for it to ring.

8:05.

8:10.

8:30.

you never called.

so he called. once, twice, seven fucking times. the third had his blood boiling, but the seventh is sending him up the fucking walls.

steve pushes off the edge of the quilted bed and heads toward the bathroom. the lights are harsh and have an orange hue, and he glares at the bruised and bloodied reflection in the cracked mirror. he didn’t even bother cleaning up after his fight, too excited to speak to you and hear all about your day at the library or about town.

it was the first time you hadn’t called at your agreed time since he left. and now it worried him. did you not want him anymore? did you find someone else while he’s been away? did he do something to upset you? were you with another man right now?

the thought alone has the mirror fogging, and steve blinks hard to clear it. but the anger boiling and bubbling in his chest is harder to make disappear.

the speedstick on the bathroom counter flies across the room and steve barely even remembers throwing it. nor can he recall his knuckles slamming into the tile, but the ache that gathers in them afterwards is enough of a reminder.

his shuddering breaths echo through the bathroom like a cold front.

and then the phone rings. shrilling through the suffocating room at a deafening pitch.

steve’s quick to his feet, snatching the phone from the cradle with fumbling fingers.

“hello—“

“hi, honey. sorry i didn’t—“

he sinks down onto the edge of the bed. “where the fuck have you been?”

a pause buzzes through the phone. in your bedroom back home, you frown down at your knees. still wearing your dress from today, shoes barely shucked off on the carpet.

“sorry, i…holly wanted to grab dinner after work and we…just lost track of time,” you coo. your fingers twist at the ruffled hem of your comforter anxiously.

you hear him huff through his nose. the line buzzes again. your feet are aching beneath you, and as you picture yourself and holly sitting under the dim lighting of the hide away’s sticky, peanut-shelled tables, a warmth comes to your face.

would steve be upset if he knew? if he knew you’d gone to the bar with your friend in only your tiny work dress? you ran your hand over the hem. it was one he likes, at least. pleated, navy blue, buttoned down the front.

“just holly?” he asks.

you nod, nibbling on the skin around your nail. “yeah, just holly. dad’s teaching nick how to drive with my car so holly gave me a ride, and we were hungry so…”

over explaining came easy with steve. it was better to lay it all out at one time than have him question later.

in his motel room, steve bounces his leg so quickly that the bed shrieks.

“okay,” he mumbles, nodding to himself. “okay…was just worried, baby.”

“i’m sorry,” you chirp through the phone. your voice went up real high when you felt bad.

steve scratches at his temple. “s’ okay, baby. uh…is holly there with you?”

he listens to you shuffle for a minute. “um…no? wh—why would she be here?”

he shuffles. a heavy breath crackles through the receiver and you wince.

“i don’t know.”

suspicion hangs heavily between his words. you wrinkle your nose up, the touch on your comforter turning harsh. your nails zip over the pink cotton.

and maybe you're fueled by the vodka cranberries, or the good time with your friend that deflated the moment you picked up the phone. sometimes being with steve felt like turning music off halfway through a song. like reaching to take the next step only to find you're chained back.

"you think i have some guy in my room, steve?" you snarl.

on his hotel bed with the hard springs and faded quilt, steve mirrors your snarling scowl. his teeth scrape the receiver pressed beside his mouth.

"well now i fuckin' do."

"jesus," you scoff. "you're ridiculous—"

"am i?—"

"yeah! you know i'd never do that to you!"

steve grinds his nails into the top of his scalp, buried under the heap of hair. his eyes bounce to the deodorant near the bathroom door, lid cracked off and half broken. another hum fills the silence on the line.

"you really don't trust me?" you're much quieter this time. softer. there's a sleepy defeat in your voice that makes steve squeeze his eyes shut and sigh.

"I don't know," tumbles from his mouth before he can snuff it out with a lie.

you scoff again. "whatever. I went out drinking with holly, is that what you want to hear?"

steve's eyes pop open, narrowed in on the deodorant and the ugly hotel carpet again. "so you lied."

"yeah, so what? so fucking what, steve? you're a thousand miles away, doing god knows what, with god knows who, and i have a life!"

steve rips the phone away from his ear, holding it with a tight fist at his knee. gives it a little shake, veins bulging in his forearm. he can hear you squawking on the line like a peanuts character, muffled and high-pitched. he's seen red many times in his life, but something about this rage is oddly pink. fueled by romance and lust and longing and his ache for you.

love curdles when it intertwines with rage.

"'doing god knows what?'" steve brings the phone back to his ear, pushing to his feet. "then you don't trust me, either! you think I'm out here fuckin' girls like groupies?"

"well, we all knew who you were before me—"

"fuckin—"

steve's first instinct is to throw the phone. but big's already told him they can't afford to replace another one, and then he won't have a way to call you back and finish this. so, he spins sharply on one heel and places a heavy palm against the wallpaper. he doesn't want to break that, either. he can't afford his own anger sometimes.

"i'm glad to hear we have so much faith in each other, sweetheart."

his voice drips with such malice that you actually flinch. back into the pillows, gripping a heart-shaped frilly puff like a teddy bear. some sort of comfort, because despite all your anger-laced words strewn through the telephone, you were throbbing with hurt.

you just missed him. in fact, you spent the whole night whining about it to holly, who plied you with more vodka cranberries in hopes it would fog you up so bad, you'd forget all about steve. it only made you ache for him more.

"well..." you whisper, toying with your bottom lip. if steve were in the room, he'd instantly know what the gesture meant. tears bubbled at your lash line in a warm, stinging assault.

"i'm going to bed, before we both say something we might regret."

"no, don't fuckin' hang up," he groans, collapsing on the corner of the bed again. "you know i'm not fuckin' anyone out here. or anywhere for that matter, jesus."

"well why would you think i am?" the harshness of your voice congeals into something whiny and pathetic.

steve rubs his finger into his eye, leg bouncing again. "i don't know—i-i don't. just...don't even want anyone even lookin' at you. i hate not being right there with you."

his own fist comes sailing down into his thigh. his expression of pain releases with a long huff and a scrunched nose.

"I know. but you know i don't even care about anyone else."

steve bounces his leg a little faster to offset the throbbing in his thigh muscle, swallowing thickly. "y-yeah."

you sigh, sliding down against the pillows. "i'm sorry i lied."

he nods, resting his knuckles on his leg. "I know, baby. just...fuck, you know? want you here."

you smile at that, curling your arm tighter around your pillow. "you miss me, champ?"

steve huffs a chuckle, shaking his head at his lap. "yeah, angel, i miss you."

the statement alone causes you to wriggle and your hand to creep toward the hem of your dress.

"you drive me fuckin' crazy."

that night, you make very good use of the telephone.

[lovedrruunk]

'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part v]

powder finally made it to the hangout stage (good for her!), and guess she never really realized how good talking to you one on one would feel. [part iv]

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮ < banger song inspo!!

Powder shuffled along the stone sidewalk, her head down and her hands buried in her worn jacket pockets. The town square was deafening. The noise of it all was something she just couldn’t seem to get adjusted to. Sure, the undercity was loud, people yelling, arguing, running, sounds she was used to, sounds easy to block out. But this?

Easy laughter, happy chatter, meaningless conversation just for the sake of it. It was like a ringing in her ear, irritating her brain as if she wasn’t meant to hear it, like her ears weren’t developed enough to process it. 

Looking up at the people passing by she noticed how all of their faces were unfamiliar. Either she’d never met them, never looked them in the eye, or had totally forgotten about them. She wanted to feel bad about it but she just… couldn’t. All the faces here seemed so generic, like NPCs in a video game. Every face just seemed like a blur. Every face but one.

“Powder!”

And suddenly the ringing in her ear stopped. Your face wasn’t like the others. It wasn’t part of the background. It was clear, vivid, impossible to ignore. You were smiling at her, waving like you’d been waiting to see her. For a second, she didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just stood there like an idiot, staring back. 

It happened. In less than a week, the interaction she’d dreamed of had… actually happened.

It was a weird feeling, to watch the scene she pictured in her head constantly play out before her in real time. You called her name and waved her hello, because you knew her, because you were here to see her this time, not the baker, not the merchant, not your neighbors. The realization made her lips twitch upward and before she could stop herself, a goofy smile spread across her face. She probably looked ridiculous, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Sorry, did I make you wait long?” You asked, catching your breath.

“No, don't worry, I just got here.” She said quickly, shaking her head.

It was a total lie of course. She had been waiting long, long enough to overthink, to second-guess whether she should’ve shown up at all, and to count the cracks in the sidewalk. But it didn’t matter now. You were here, and somehow, that made the waiting feel insignificant, like it had been worth it.

You smiled, not questioning her answer, and pointed down the street casually. “I was thinking we could head down to the river.” you said, like the thought had just popped into your head. “It’s quieter there. I know the noise here can be a lot sometimes.”

Powder blinked, startled by how easily you seemed to know her, like you’d figured out something she hadn’t even put into words yet herself. She hesitated for a moment, her hands still shoved deep into her pockets, before nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”

You started walking, and she followed you without a word, just like she always had. Except this time she wasn’t sneaking around, because you had been walking together. At first, it felt strange. Her pace awkward, her head down, unsure of what to say or do. But you didn’t seem bothered by her silence, didn’t rush her to keep up or pressure her to fill the space between you. You just…walked, calm and easy, without a second thought.

The town square got quieter and quieter, replaced by the faint sounds of nature, birds chirping, the occasional rustle of leaves, and the distant sound of flowing water. Powder glanced up as they rounded a corner, catching the sight of the river. 

The water wasn’t super deep where you guys were, she could see the smooth rocks under the water from afar, some sticking out a little. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen water this clean or blue. The sun was out, but not in an annoying way. Just enough to keep things warm without making her squint. The wind was nice too, just enough to ruffle her hair, the perfect balance of warm and cool. The only sounds she could hear now was the soft splashing of water and chirping of birds 

For a second, she thought about how different it felt here. Like the world had slowed down just for you two. She glanced over at you and caught you smiling, like you’d been here a thousand times, like this was just another day for you.

When you reached the riverbank, you didn’t hesitate. You spotted a bench with a clear view of the water, sat down like it was your favorite spot in the world, and gestured for her to join you.

“See? Way better.” you said with a grin, stretching lazily.

Powder lingered for a second, her eyes flicking between the bench and the water, before finally sitting down. Stiffly. Like she’d never sat down a day in her life, or like the bench might break just to spite her. She looked around, her arms stuck to her sides, half expecting something to go wrong.

But nothing did.

The river kept flowing, and the trees kept swaying. The world didn’t seem to care that she was sitting there, that she felt out of place.

And then there was you.

You didn’t seem to care either, not in a bad way, but in a way that made her feel like it didn’t matter if she was awkward or didn’t know what to say. You were just… there. Sitting beside her, relaxed, watching the water like it was the only thing that mattered.

Powder shifted slightly, her arms relaxing a little. She wasn’t used to quiet like this, the kind that wasn’t filled with tension or internal voices, the kind that didn’t demand anything from her.

She still felt a little off, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. But for the first time in a while, it felt like maybe… maybe nothing had to go wrong.

“So, how are you liking the town?” You asked, breaking the silence.

She thought about it for a bit. It was such a simple question yet she had no idea how to answer it. Where would she begin? It was nice sure, peaceful, lively, the perfect place to settle, but how did she like it? Guess she never really thought about it. 

She liked her cabin. She made it her own and it felt nice to have a place to herself. She liked the market, even though she was always quick to scurry out of there. She liked the kids in town, she’d sometimes linger by a little longer and listen in on their conversations. Sometimes they’d be arguing over something stupid like who won which game, other times they’d be happily chasing each other around. She liked you, of course.

Sometimes she wondered what it would’ve been like if she had moved here earlier, before everything went wrong. It was a selfish thought really, but one she found herself often staying up picturing. Afterall, she knew someone who would’ve loved to play with the kids in town. She would’ve liked you too, would’ve liked this new life.

“It’s nice.” She muttered, keeping her eyes on the moving water. 

“Seriously…? That’s it?” 

That made her chuckle. She turned her head to look at you with a small smile and furrowed brows.

“What? It is nice.” She exclaimed

You stayed silent, rolling your eyes with a small ‘hmph’ looking away. 

“It’s also… new.” She continued after a small bit of silence. “Believe it or not, I’d never seen a forest before coming here… oh, or water this pretty.” she added absentmindedly as she took in their surroundings.

“Oh right, I’ve been meaning to ask. Where did you live before you came here?” You asked curiously as you turned to look at her again.

There it was, the dreaded question. Well, one of them. There were a lot of questions she was dreading. But she figured this one would come up sooner than later. 

It wasn’t like Zaun was known for its great living conditions.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn't nervous, she didn’t know how you’d react to her being from somewhere so… Scary? Dirty? Horrible?... she figured any one of those could work. A part of her was tempted to lie, say she was from Piltover or somewhere else that's fancy and shiny, but she knew she couldn’t do that to you, lying now? So early into your conversation? No way. And besides, she doubted she could stomach the idea of calling herself a Piltie.

Her throat felt dry, and her voice came out quieter than she intended.

“I… I’m from Zaun.”

“From where now?”

“The Undercity.”

There was a pause.

“Piltover.”

Still nothing.

She blinked at you, deadpan. “The ‘City of Progress’?”

Your expression lit up in sudden recognition. “Oh! With the Hex Portals?”

She didn’t even have the heart to correct you… 

Your confusion confused her, but she wasn’t exactly mad about it. It was... surprising, in a good way. Guess all that worrying was for nothing. She couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort in your cluelessness, like it drew an even thicker line between her past and her present.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of it.” you said, your voice casual like this was just small talk. “Hm. It’s a long way from here, though. What made you leave?”

Her body stiffened. What was it with you and these dreaded questions? She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes darting back to the river.

As much as she wanted to be annoyed at you for asking the one thing she wanted to avoid, she knew she couldn’t. It wasn’t the question that was the problem, it was her answer. Anyone else might’ve taken it as a casual, perfectly normal thing to ask. The issue wasn’t you. The issue was her.

She opened her mouth, trying to come up with something to say, but nothing felt right. Her chest tightened

Thankfully, you seemed to catch on to her hesitation. Your voice softened. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me. I get it.”

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until that moment. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she gave you a small nod, grateful you didn’t push for more.

“Well,” you continued, leaning back on the bench with a smile “whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re here now,”

She smiled again, her heart warm-

“even though you were kinda creepy at first.”

“What!?” Her head snapped towards you.

“Why is this surprising? You were like totally stalking me. Kinda had me worried.” You said casually with a laugh.

“Well- I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to be creepy.” She said defensively. “I just thought you were cool…”

Your teasing grin faltered, replaced by a look of surprise.

You blinked, clearly taken aback. “Oh.”

Powder winced, feeling like she’d just made things worse.

“Oh?” she repeated, nervously twisting her fingers together.

“Sorry, just didn’t expect that.” you said, your voice softer now, glancing down at the ground.

Her eyes darted away. “Was that... weird to say?”

“No, no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean,” You laughed a little, still processing. “I didn’t think I’d come off as cool to anyone, let alone you.”

Her brows furrowed, she almost looked…offended. “Why not?”

You shrugged, a sheepish smile playing on your lips. “I don’t know. I think I’m pretty average overall. My life’s pretty mundane.” You said looking towards the sky absentmindedly. “No mysterious backstory, no crazy hair.” You finished with a laugh as you looked back at her again, only to be taken aback when you were met with a stern face.

“That’s what makes you cool.” She said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You just sat there staring at one another. Her face still serious and yours all the more surprised. 

“If you say so…”

Powder nodded sharply. “I do say so.”

Then you smiled, like you weren’t sure whether to laugh or say thank you

“Well... thanks, I guess,” you said finally.

.     .     .

The sun was starting to set now, the gentle sound of the river filled the quiet, and Powder found herself feeling lighter than she had in a long time.

“It’s nice here,” she said, almost to herself.

You glanced over at her. “Yeah. It is.”

You leaned forward, tilting your head to get a good look at her. “We should do this again sometime. Y’know, hang out.”

Powder blinked, looking over at you. The casual way you said it made her chest ache in that strange, unfamiliar way again. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I’d like that.”

You smiled at her, a small, genuine one that made her stomach flip. Then you stood up, stretching contently.

“Come on,” you said, reaching out a hand to her. “We should head back before it gets dark. Can’t have you tripping over something.”

Powder rolled her eyes, smiling back. “I’ll have you know, I’m very good at walking.”

“Yuh huh,” you teased, grabbing her hand to pull her up anyway. “Whatever you say creep.”

“Ugh.”

. . .

"next part will def be out before new years!" i said knowing damn well it wouldnt be LMAO guys pls i have a life outside of tumblr OH MY DAYSSSS shocker ik

anyways sry this took long (i rewrote it TWICE) im actually not thattt happy with it STOP I CAN ALREADY HEAR THE BOOS AND TOMATOES BEING THROWN ik guys im never satisfied BUT TO POST SOMETHING I TRULY LIKE IT WOULD TAKE A WHOLE 2 MONTHS AT LEAST

ALSO THE STORY IS COMING TO AN ENDDD IM HEARTBROKEN TOO BUT BUT BUT DW I still plan on writing for this "au" or wtv, ill make a separate post explaining why/how ;P

THX SM FOR STILL READING I LOVEEEEEE U GUYSSS BYEBYE XOXOXO KISSKISSKISS

p.s ik jinx leaving zaun before act 2 wouldve been pointless cuz she needed the closure i just wanted to write abt her thinking abt it ;P

notes r appreciated ofc (˶ > ₃ < ˶)

[taglist ( ;´ - `;)!!]

@cattjull @kenqki @powderbomb-jinxed @iamastar @lostdreamingwallflower @errorlovernotfound99 @raven437 @cartalige @poncho-fisch @crushh-existz @slxtcity @jinxslapdog @radioheadfan699 @alduinworldeater11 @dulleyeddreamer @alicenasflowers

[USERS I CANT TAG 4 SUM REASON (◞‸◟；)]

@sacrasm-is-my-form-of-attack @wonylvxv @luvs4rc0r3

[hellfiremunsonn]

Don't Touch The Racoons. Eddie Munson x Reader

Don't Touch The Racoons

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Summary: Eddie helps his very loopy girlfriend after she dislocates her shoulder.

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: None really? fem reader though no real descriptions, mentions of a 'heavy' medication, but not specified. Just assumed they'd give you something for the pain of having to pop your shoulder back in, and it making you a lil loopy! (IF THERES ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)

AN: not proof read, and not based off of anything or a request, just something that I had in mind, and thought it was cute and funny!

Word count: 1.6k

Eddie was working a late shift at the shop, working overtime for some extra cash when he gets a frantic call from Robin telling him you slipped and dislocated your shoulder.

He immediately panics and is about to head out the door when you plead with him on the other end just to finish his shift. 

"We w-wont be long, m'okay Ed's really" you lie. You wanted to be brave for him, and for your friends who are with you in the waiting room of the hospital.

Reluctantly after another ten minutes you convince Eddie to finish his shift and to wait for you at his trailer. 

It's around midnight when Eddies phone finally rings, and he nearly fumbles it across the room with how quickly he grabs it. "Hello?"

"Wakey wakes Munson! Were on our way back with your very, loopy girlfriend" Robin says on the other end of the phone. 

Eddie groans as he sits up from the couch, breathing out a sigh of relief knowing they'll be back soon. "How long till you guys get here?" He asks wearily, standing up from the couch to begin pacing back and forth. 

"Fifteen minutes, barely, were practically down the road" Robin says comfortingly. 

"Okay okay... good... how is she?" 

"Oh insanely loopy" Robin laughs "It's pretty cute though.

"Oh jeez, guess they gave her some good stuff" he shakes his head, thinking of just how loopy you're going to be when you get here. 

"Oh for sure they- no babe, you can't touch that, no stop it, put your hand down for the love of christ-" Robin rambles at you, and Eddie can hear you giggling in the background as Robin tries to control whatever loopy antics you're up to. 

"Is that her giggling like a school girl?"

"Yes! she's being a menace! A very slow and giggly menace, but a menace all the same!" 

Just as Eddie goes to respond he sees the headlights of Steves car pull up into his gravel driveway. He hangs up the phone with out saying goodbye and heads over towards the door. 

When he makes it to the porch, Steve and Robin are helping you out of the car, practically dragging you with your heavy limbs and fogged brain. 

"Jesus Christ, can se even walk?" He says while jogging down the few steps, reaching out towards you to help you into his trailer. 

"teddy teddy teddy" you say while reaching forward with your arm that isn't in the temporary sling. 

Eddie steps closer and wraps his arm around you in a tight hugs, pressing a scatter of kisses to the top of your head. "How's the patient?" he says while looking at you, but he's really asking Steve and Robin. 

"She is absolutely stoned out of her mind right now" Robin says with a smirk, looking over at you while you cling to Eddie, your head lolling against his chest. "They defenitly gave her the good stuff"

"You're if bubble gum was a person" you mumble, rubbing your face against his chest. 

Eddie lets our a snort of laughter and shakes his head. "And why am I bubble gum, baby?"

"Cause you are" you scoff, as if it's obviously 

"Mhmm okay, good explanation" he says shaking his head. "Lets get you inside alright?"

"Insssiiidddeeee" You sing out.

Eddie laughs again, leading you into the trailer slowly, and guides you over to the couch, making sure your sat down, comfortably and safely before standing back up in front of you. "There you go baby, now just stay right here okay? I'm gunna say bye to Steve and Robin" he says while pushing some hair away from your face gently. 

"Don't touch the racoons" you say with a warning tone, pointing a finger at you to emphasize your point of seriousness. 

Eddie stares at you blankly for a moment, attempting to hold back a smile as he gently pushes your hand back down to your side. "I promise not to touch the racoons" he confirms while turning around to the front door where Steve and Robin are giggling at your antics. 

"Did she just say 'don't touch the racoons?'" Robin asks, still trying to stile another round of laughter.

"Yes. Yes she did" Eddie says while trying to keep a straight face.

"Steve finally breaks, letting out a burst of hysterical laughter, while robin just smiles and shakes her head. 

"Well you're going to have an interesting night, that's for sure" Steve says after he's managed to catch his breath. 

Eddie shakes his head, and turns back to glance at you, still sitting on the couch. Your head is lolled to one side, one eye open, and the other one closed, a dreamy, dopey look on your face, that he can't help fall more in love with. "Alright you two assholes can head off now, I've got her covered" he says giving the both of them quick hugs. "Thanks for taking her to the hospital for me, and keeping her face"

Steve and robin wave off his thanks. "Good luck with your walking zombie of a girlfriend!" Robin says with a playful salute.

Once they drive away Eddie heads back inside, walking over and kneeling in front of you on the couch. "Hey there baby. How are you feeling?"

"Super duper" you say with a smile.

"Yeah super duper sounds about right" He says with a smile. Reaching out to tuck some hair out of your face again, looking over your features as you sit there all loopy. 

You lean your cheek against his hand, humming in content at the feeling. The warmth of it spreading across your face. 

Eddie smooths his thumb over your cheekbone as you lean into his touch. Seeing you so out of it like this was definetly a big change from your usual self he had become so familiar with. "The meds they gave you are really doing a number on you aren't they? he asks, but it's mostly him talking to himself. He doesn't expect a reply, let alone a coherent one at that, but you still try. 

"M'all tingly" you mumble out.

"Yeah that's the medicine baby" he says quietly. Taking a moment to just admire your features, and the way you look up at him with those eyes of yours. 

"Where'd you go?" you ask, tilting your head while you speak.

"What do you mean baby? where did I go?" he says confused.

"You weren't at the host-hop-hospital with me" you struggle to get the sentence out, but manage in the end.

Eddies face softens, and he nods his head. "I know baby, I'm really sorry, I was working remember? You didn't want me to miss out so you convinced me to stay" he says while bringing his free hand to cup the other side of your face so he can get you to look at him directly. 

"They stole my blood" you frown.

Eddie has to stop himself from laughing so hard at the words that just came from your mouth, not wanting to offend you in your drowsy state. "They weren't stealing your food baby, that's just how hospitals work, they gotta make sure you're okay"

"Thieved it right out of me!"

Eddie can't help but laugh then at how ridiculous you were being. Normally he'd have at least some idea of what you were talking about, seeing you be all giggly like this when you were high. But right now it was like trying to decipher everything a very small, very stoned child was saying. 

"They were testing your blood for science, baby, not stealing it from you, very big difference" he says, trying to help you understand despite knowing it's no use right now.

"Science! pffft" you snort, leaning forward until your head thunks against his shoulder.

Eddie cradles the back of your head, while pressing a kiss to to it. "Well science is important baby"

"You're eyes are science" you say matter of fact. 

Eddie has no idea how to respond for a moment. "My eyes are... Science?" he repeats with a raised brow. Wondering if all the loops in your brain had finally melted together.

"Yep" you say confidently. 

Eddie is still confused, but if it's one thing about right now is that he's learning to just go with whatever it is you're saying. "Interesting..." he says with a laugh "and they're science because?"

"Cause they sparkle duh"

"Jesus Christ you really are out of it" he says mostly to himself. 

"Hey where's my bear?" You say abruptly, looking around for the blue stuffed bear that is always safely tucked away in Eddies bed for when you sleep over. You frown when you don't see it in the living room. 

"He's in my room babe, where he always is"

"Can we go to him? I miss him" 

Eddie gives you a fond smile and stands up from his kneeling position in front of you while reaching out to take your good hand in his. "Course we can go to him" he says while gently lifting you off the couch. 

"Woah" you say when you wobbly slightly once you're back on your feet. "The floor is melty"

Eddie lets out a loud laugh, unable to keep that one in. Keeping you steady with his arm around your waist he looks down at you with a smile, almost tempted to let you go just to see if you really would fall over, but he doesn't. "No the floor isn't melty" he says "You're just really high"

"Looks pretty melty to me" you say skeptically. Taking a tentative step forward, tapping the toe of your soon on the ground first, just to REALLY make sure it was sturdy enough. 

Eddie looks at you in amusement. It was like every clumsy bone in your body had been amplified to a maximum and he could barely believe it. "I promise you the floor is not melty"

As the night goes on, and you sleep off the drowsy medication, you manage to tell the story to Eddie about how you dislocated your shoulder. All the while he holds you close, keeping you warm and protected and silently vowing to himself to wrap you in bubble wrap when you were away from him.

[sad-girl-hours23]

"Please, speak to me."

I hope there's no glaring mistakes, but it's 3 am and my brain is fried :)

The call connects and relief replaces the anxiety in Buck’s veins when he hears Tommy say, “hello?”

He sucks in a breath. “Tommy, hey—” Buck starts, not sure what to say next, but he’s met with silence anyway. “Tommy? Please, speak to me.”

“—sorry I can’t come to the phone right now…”

Buck nearly hurls his phone. He can’t believe he falls for the stupid trick voicemail every. Fucking. Time. 

He feels like he’s been walking for weeks in the desert, finally seeing water up ahead, only for it to be a mirage.

It’s been three weeks of confusion, of sadness, of loneliness…but this is the first time he’s felt angry. And why shouldn’t he be? Doesn’t he deserve an explanation?

He’s going to call Tommy back and give his voicemail a piece of his mind. Before he can tap on Tommy’s name, his phone buzzes with an incoming call from Eddie. Buck stares at it and wonders if it’s a sign, like the day Tommy was bubbling him and Eddie snatched his phone before he could call. Buck remembers how excited he was to think Tommy was finally going to reach out to him until the bubbles stopped. It was just another mirage. It doesn’t even make him sad anymore, it makes him want to scream. Coward, Buck thinks and declines the call.

Buck calls Tommy back and grits his teeth through the voicemail greeting. “First of all, your voicemail is childish. Second of all, you’re an asshole for leaving the way you did. After six months. For making me believe you—ugh, hold on” Buck’s phone buzzes again and he accepts the call. “What?”

“This a bad time?” Eddie asks.

Buck sighs. “No. I mean, kind of? I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Buck checks the time. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be halfway to El Paso by now? Where are you?”

“Well that was the plan.” Eddie sighs. “I hate to do this over the phone, but it’ll take forever for me to get to you and then—you need to get to First Presbyterian, Buck. I’ll meet you as soon as I can, I’m already on my way.” 

“Eddie, what are you talking about? Did something happen? Are you hurt?”

“Not me, Buck. Tommy. He was in an accident. Helicopter crash. It’s pretty serious.”

Buck shakes his head even though Eddie can’t see him. “No, that can’t be. He wasn’t scheduled to work today.”

“Okay, well we can address that later. Just get there, okay? And please don’t drive.”

“Yeah, yeah I got it. See you there.”

Buck hangs up and orders an Uber. While he waits, he calls Tommy again. “I don’t regret a word I said. Just a lot of words I never did. I’ll never forgive you, I’ll never forgive myself, if I don’t get to say them and I’m not going to say it for the first time in a message so you better be okay.” 

There’s a short, sharp beep in his ear. Then silence.

“Please be okay.”

[bussolares]

── CONVERT CONFESSIONS.

ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ 이희승 x fem! reader content non-idol au double agent au coworkers to lovers jealous heeseung yummy confession one kiss scene ✿ warning just men being men... mentions of guns not proofread. . .!? ˃ᴗ˂ wc 1704 𖦹 mlist and tag list

note. new year and new blog... enjoy this heeseung work from yours truly!

You checked your appearance in the body-length mirror of the hotel room, leaving once you were satisfied with how you were dressed. Heading down to the lobby, you spotted your partner and fellow coworker; Lee Heeseung, already there and well-dressed for the occasion. Your breath hitched in your throat as you got closer to him. The way his pitch-black hair was slicked back, revealing his forehead along with a pair of hoop, small earrings resting on his earlobes made your stomach tighten. 

Hearing your footsteps, he looked in your direction and you took note of how he faltered at the sight of you. His reaction was enough to make you grin, proud that you had rendered him speechless. 

“Hey, are you ready to go?” You asked as you stopped before him, tilting your head to the side. You pretended to not notice how Heeseung’s eyes lingered on your lips before he raised his head. 

“Yeah, let’s get going. Do you still remember the plan?” He lowered his voice, scooting closer to you so other people wouldn’t be able to hear him. 

“Yes, don’t worry. I’ll focus on distracting the target while you hack into the system to extract the files. We’ve gone through this many times,” you replied, raising your hand to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind your ear but Heeseung was faster. 

You froze when you felt his fingers grazed against your skin and then, he dropped his hand before you could savor it. He cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring your gaze. “Good, I was just making sure that we won’t fail this.” 

You sent him a confident smirk as you stepped out of the lobby, heading to one of the awaiting cabs. “As long as I’m here, we won’t fail. Trust me.” 

The mission was simple: you and Heeseung are assigned to extract the encrypted files that are buried deep in the company’s system. The only way to access the system is someone has to sneak to the back, enter the room and hack into it. However, the room is only accessible with a special key card that only the owner of the company: Jiwon, has. This is where you come into play. Your role was to distract him while swiping the key card off, handing it to Heeseung who will sneak into the room. 

It didn’t take you long to arrive at your destination: Shangri-La Hotel, where the formal event is taking place. Both of you were granted entrance from the guard after ticking off your names from the guests list. The ballroom was extravagant and luxurious, packed with men and women dressed in expensive-looking clothes and accessories. You stuck close to Heeseung, eyes doing a quick scan of the crowd and nudged him when you saw your target. 

“On your left, three o’ clock. I’ll get started, you can walk around and stay close,” you whispered into his ear, leaving his side without waiting for his response. 

You grabbed a glass of white champagne from a tray of a passing waiter, idly twirling the glass in your hands as you weaved your way through the crowd. Your ears picked up Jiwon’s laughter and you followed the direction, drawing closer with every step you took. 

“...so much for taking the time to attend this event,” he sincerely thanked one of the guests, a gloved hand resting on his chest as he bowed to a couple. 

When the couple moved away, you took the chance to get closer. You plastered a flirty and coy smile on your face, taking a small sip of your champagne as you cleared your throat. “Hello there, I see you’ve worked hard for this project and I just want to congratulate you.” 

The man turned towards you upon hearing your voice. You saw the way his eyes scanned your figure from head to toe without any ounce of shame and that was enough to make you smirked, partially concealed by your glass. He cleared his throat, flashing you a professional and friendly smile as you stopped before him. 

“Thank you…?” His voice trailed off, unsure of how to address you. 

“Ah, forgive me for my lack of manners. I’m Haerin, nice to meet you,” you smoothly lied through your teeth, reaching out your free hand for a handshake. 

Although, you didn’t expect the other to grab your hand, lifting it up as he bent to kiss your hand instead. You weren’t certain whether your eyes were playing tricks on you or not, considering how his lips lingered longer than usual. You did a quick scan of your surroundings, easily spotting Heeseung who was standing in a corner, holding a glass of red wine in his hand while another hand was shoved into the pocket of his black pants. He arched an eyebrow and you subtly shook your head. 

Jiwon straightened himself, finally letting go of your hand and you’ve never felt more relieved in your life. “So Haerin, how can I help you? Surely a gorgeous woman like you didn’t come here alone.” 

“What the fuck? Is he trying to hit on you?” Heeseung’s annoyed voice was heard from the other end of your in-ear wireless earpiece. It was specially made to match your respective skintones, allowing it to blend in without getting caught. 

You ignored Heeseung, batting your eyelashes at him and to make your act convincing, you stepped forward and rested your hand on his shoulder. The way Jiwon’s eyes glanced down to your hand made you smirked. You knew you had him hooked and all he needed was one final push for him to fall into the palm of your hands. 

“Sorry to disappoint but I am in fact alone. I came here on behalf of my company, who expressed their interest in taking part in your upcoming project. If you’d like, perhaps we can find a quieter place to discuss it. Or,” your voice trailed off, leaning in to whisper into his ears, your voice low and seductive. 

“(Name), I swear to god, don’t you dare do what I think you’re about to do.” 

Jiwon’s eyes darkened and you grinned, grabbing him by the hand and leading him out of the room. You made sure to throw a glance to Heeseung—who was gripping onto his glass of drink so hard to the point he might shatter it. You managed to find an empty room located quite far from where everyone else is. The further you are, the higher chance the success rate will be. You closed the door behind you, turning to Jiwon who had already taken his seat on the edge of the bed. 

“To think today is my lucky day,” he hums, watching you with a hungry glint in his eyes as you approach him with slow, unhurried steps. 

“You’re right. Today is my lucky day,” you replied. 

Jiwon frowned. “Wait, what do—!?” 

Your fist shot forward in a blur, a sharp, calculated strike that connected squarely with his jaw.

The impact echoed with a dull thwack, and his head snapped to the side, his body crumpling like a marionette with its strings cut. He hit the ground hard, out cold, his unfinished sentence fading into silence. You straightened, flexing your knuckles. 

"Guess you didn’t see that coming," you muttered, leaning over his still figure as you try to find the card. 

“(Name), are you alright!?” Heeseung exclaimed, barging into the room without warning. You jumped, startled and shot him a glare, smacking his shoulder as he got closer. 

“Ow, what was that for?” He yelped, rubbing the now sore spot. 

“You idiot, you’re going to get us caught! And I’m fine. Now help me look for the card so we can get this done and over with,” you rolled your eyes. 

Heeseung remained silent for a few moments and you felt guilty, thinking you might have gone overboard when he was merely worried about you. 

“Heeseung, I—” 

You turned to him but you didn’t expect him to kiss you firmly on the lips. Your mind blanked out when you felt his lips pressed against yours. The kiss ended as fast as it began, leaving you speechless as your brain tried to comprehend what just happened. Heeseung looks at you, hands now cupping your face and that was when you saw it. 

Pure love and adoration in his doe-like eyes. 

He smiles. “(Name), I’ve been in love with you ever since we met. The only reason why it took me this long to confess is because I’m scared. I’m scared that we won’t be able to live till tomorrow. I don’t want to live my life without you by my side.” 

Your eyes widened, your heart pounding against your chest as you listened to his confession. 

He chuckles, a bittersweet smile taking over as he moves away, taking your silence as rejection. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way—”

“Heeseung, I love you,” you interrupted, cutting him off. The way his head snapped up at lightning speed made you worried that he was going to break his neck. 

“Y-You do?” He stuttered, ears turning red with disbelief written all over his face. 

You chuckled, nodding and this time, you cupped his face in your hands. His eyes fluttered shut, leaning into your touch like a touch-starved kitten. “I’ve always been in love with you, you dumbass. But, I guess we’re both cowards for not confessing, huh.” 

“You know what they say, we’re like peas in a pod.” 

Laughing, you pulled Heeseung in for a kiss and he eagerly returned it. You could feel him smiling into the kiss. While the two of you were having a romantic moment, Jiwon had regained consciousness. He attempted to sneak past the both of you, only for a bullet to narrowingly miss him by an inch. He turned, frightened to the core at the sight of the two of you standing behind him, your respective guns out and aimed at him. 

“Well then, shall we finish this mission so we can go home?” You asked, looking at your partner with a grin. 

Heeseung matched your grin and nodded, taking perfect aim to where Jiwon’s heart was. “We shall, my lady.”

[galaxymagitech]

The Monster in the Mirror

For @jasontoddweek2025 — Day 2

Joker | Chronic Pain | Fear Toxin

Summary: Jason is exposed to fear toxin in the field. And his greatest fear isn’t the Joker, or the coffin, or the League. It’s the monster that he sees when he looks in the mirror.

Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Hallucinations

You can read it here or on AO3!

Ba dum. Ba dum. Ba dum.

Jason’s heart thunders in his chest, crashing against his ribcage until the bones strain and shake. He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know when he is. His entire world has narrowed into the space between one heartbeat and the next, stretched out into an eternity.

Surrounded by a dense fog, Jason stands on the uneven earth with his raised fists shaking. He doesn’t know where the enemy is, but he knows they are there, watching, waiting.

Ba dum. Ba dum. Ba dum.

Jason is forgetting something. The fog closes in on him. He chokes, fingers clutching at his throat as he bends over, heaving for air. He swears he can feel hands around his neck. But that’s wrong. There’s no one else here. Just him. He’s all alone.

Ba dum. Ba dum. Ba dum.

The pressure releases suddenly, but Jason stays snapped in half, gasping. His lungs burn as he greedily gups at the thick, wet air.

When he finally stands straight again, there is a figure rising out of the fog.

Maybe, Jason thinks, they can tell me what I’m forgetting.

He staggers forwards, one hand outstretched. Slowly, the figure grows closer and closer, until Jason can at last see his savior.

Ba dum. Ba dum. Ba—

His heart stops.

Standing before him is the Red Hood in all his glory. The Red Hood, because at first glance, he is Jason. He wears Jason’s face, Jason’s beat-up brown leather jacket, Jason’s Kevlar vest. He has the same blue-green eyes as Jason, the same white streak, the same ugly, twisted scar on the side of his neck. But he can’t be Jason, not really. Because there is something wrong with him, something that freezes Jason’s heart in his chest.

At Jason’s terror, Hood’s bloody red lips twitch into a grin, the corners stretching impossibly high. He brings a hand out from behind his back, revealing a crimson-stained crowbar. Still grinning, Hood bounces the crowbar with his right hand, allowing it to fall against his left palm. The sound of the metal thudding against Hood’s glove replaces the beating of Jason’s heart.

“Hello, Jason,” the Red Hood says, voice glimmering with amusement. The words float through the air. Jason breathes them in, and they coil in his stomach like a viper.

“What are you?” Jason asks. He’s forgetting something.

First rule of strange situations: remember how you got there.

Jason doesn’t remember how he got here. Just the fog and the fear and the forgetting.

Hood tilts his head. “I’m you.” He’s still smiling.

“You’re—you’re not me,” Jason whispers. Distantly, he’s aware that he’s trembling. “You’re the Joker.”

Hood laughs. Jason’s own screams echo in his ears. The crowbar thuds against Hood’s palm.

“You’re not me!” Jason shouts, finally regaining his voice.

Hood gestures with the crowbar like an orchestra conductor. The fog around his feet drifts away, revealing a body on the ground. Jason darts forwards, a frantic buzzing filling his ears. Because that’s Tim. Tim, lying on the ground, curled around the wound in his abdomen, breaths shallow and ragged.

Jason collapses to his knees. “Tim,” Jason says urgently. But the words are stolen from him.

Instead, he hears his own voice coming from Hood. “Pretender,” Hood spits.

“Tim,” Jason tries again. Tim’s eyes stutter open. Instantly, Jason can see the terror take root. “Tim, I—” Tim is bleeding out from the batarang in his abdomen. “I’m—”

“R—Robin?” Tim whispers. He coughs, and a clump of dark blood lands on the dirt beneath him. 

“Don’t try to speak,” Jason orders. “You’ll be okay, Tim, I—” 

Tim coughs again and begins to seize.

Jason looks up at Hood. “Help him!” He cries, leaping to his feet. “You did this, help him!”

Hood only grins.

On the cold, hard dirt, Tim’s small body shudders one final time and goes still. He’s so very pale, in death.

“Akhi?” Damian stands a few feet away, staring at Jason and Hood and Tim’s—Tim’s corpse. “Jason? What have you done?”

Jason reaches out in a wordless plea. In the same breath, Hood draws his gun.

It happens in slow motion.

Safety.

Click.

Aim.

“No—” 

Fire.

Bang!

Damian falls gracelessly. The blood seeps out of the bullet wound in his chest. Jason knows that he is dead.

There is a gun in Jason’s hands. He howls, rage exploding from his chest, and fires straight at Hood, again and again and again. The bullets pass straight through him. And then, someone rips the gun away.

There’s no one here but Hood and him and the corpses, no one to take the gun, it doesn’t make sense, it isn’t right, Jason—

Jason is forgetting something.

But that doesn’t matter, because there are hands. Hands on his shoulders, his arms, his legs. Forcing him to the ground and holding him still for the shadow that is now looming above him.

And it’s not Hood. Not anymore.

Batman crouches in front of Jason. “You killed my sons,” he growls.

“Please,” Jason sobs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want—”

In an instant, Batman’s gauntleted fingers close around Jason’s jaw, holding it shut. Jason’s heartbeat returns, hurtling forwards off the cliff.

Ba bum. Ba bum. Ba bum.

The strain is going to kill him.

Jason is forgetting something.

“I should have put you down long ago,” Batman says, and the words pierce Jason far more sharply than any dagger could. Batman’s hand slips from Jason’s jaw. Almost gently, it brushes against his throat.

Beneath his father’s touch, the scar on Jason’s neck splits open and begins to weep crimson blood. “Please,” Jason whispers. “Please. Bruce. Dad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Please don’t. I’m sorry. I’m—”

Batman is gone. It’s just Jason, kneeling on the ground, and the hands that slowly begin to pull him under. Jason feels himself sinking, blood mingling with the dirt and turning it to mud.

That’s one way to do it, Jason thinks idly.

The dirt fills Jason’s mouth, choking him. His lungs burn in protest. Black spots enter his vision.

Jason has gone cold, cold as a corpse. There is dirt in his chest, packing itself into Jason’s ribcage. He can’t breathe anymore.

The earth swallows him whole.

***

Ba dum. Ba dum. Ba dum.

Jason startles awake with a scream that tears itself from his chest. There are hands on him again, holding his arms down as he struggles. Hood is there too, just behind his eyelids, grinning.

“Jason! Jay, you’re safe. It’s alright. Just calm down!”

Jason screams again wordlessly. He blinks, but his vision swims with images of the things he saw in the fog.

“Please, Jason. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

No, not himself. He hurt Tim. He hurt Damian.

He killed them.

(Tim, curled around the batarang in his abdomen, seizing. Damian, blood pooling from the gunshot wound to his chest.)

“They’re fine, Jason. Look, Damian’s right here. See?”

Jason blinks again. He sees a blurry child, standing there with his arms crossed, a scowl drawn across his face that can only be characterized as ‘concern.’ “Tt. I am perfectly fine, Todd. It was you who inhaled a toxic chemical agent.”

“Tim.” Jason barely manages to form the word. He swears he can feel the pain coming from the gash in his throat, stealing his voice. “He’s—”

“He’s resting, upstairs.” That’s Bruce’s voice. But Jason saw it.

Bruce must be lying. “I need—I need—see him. I need to see him.”

Jason tries to stand up. The world spins, and then narrows again, and he collapses back on something soft. There are voices around him, all blending together. And then—

Tim is standing in front of him. Pale, but not pale like a corpse. Not bleeding from the abdomen. Not coughing up blood. Alive.

“Lie down, Jason,” Bruce orders. “You inhaled a lot of fear toxin.”

Fear toxin.

Oh. That’s what Jason was forgetting.

Slowly, Jason’s heartbeat calms.

Ba bum. Ba bum. Ba bum.

A hand rests on Jason’s cheek, and none of his wounds open. “You’re safe,” Bruce promises. “Tim and Damian are safe. Just sleep, now.”

Jason closes his eyes and breathes.

[alevolpe]

Hello! I plan on doing a Sailor Moon rewrite later on next year (bc i have a lot of shit to do in the entirety of my 3rd year of university) and I'd like to know what issues you have with each season of sailor moon. You don't have to name all of them, just name the biggest problem(s) you have with each season!! I hope I am not troubling you :3

Hi! You're no trouble at all! Thank you for asking, I'm humbled you're interested in hearing my opinion.

Ok, let's see. Before I start I wanna say, these are MY opinions based on also how I'm doing my own rewrite AU thingy, so don't take it personally if I don't want to include elements or characters you love. (Most fo the time it doesn't even mean I don't like those characters in canon, I just don't think they'd fit with the specific narrative I have in my mind)

I'll say for Season 1, my biggest issue is the amount of time it takes to get everyone in the cast. By the time we get Mina it's like what, over 3/4ths of the season in? I like that the show takes its time introducing everyone and giving the girls some organic bonding time in the filler, but there's better ways to do it imo. That's why I have Usagi be the last to awaken and meet an already tranformed Ami and Rei, so we don't totally break from Usagi being the center at first. We can use her as a vessel to get to know these new people and this crazy new identity at the same time she does, letting us know more about her too in the process, while not slowing the pace of the story to a crawl. As we get to know more, you can introduce the rest of the girls and break from the main group to catch glimpses of Mako and Mina, to later unite them. But that's my fix, there's other ways to fix the slow introductions, just.. don't maybe go manga style and spend only one ep per girl and immediately move on to the next, give them time to breathe.

My main issue with Season 2 is the time travel. The show does NOT know its own rules and that is a recipe for disaster, once you introduce an ally that is able to time travel, you got a LOT in your hands. Everything in the show could be solved with one travel through time, but they never do. Why? Cause otherwise the show wouldn’t exist. It leaves too many possibilities and questions that is not ready to answer. Idk how one could fix it, I'm sure there's many ways you could, I just have 0 interest in incorporating time travel in sm.

With Season 3 I'd say it's the introduction of the whole Pharaoh 90 or Mistress 9 thing. I don’t know, I know they are the main baddies, but like.. just make Saturn the main threat, she already basically is. That's my problem with it, I'm sure a ton of people disagree, but I'd rather the season just focus more on Saturn, Haruka, Michiru and Pluto, I don't need another "queen Nehellenia" type villain that gets introduced 2 seconds before the end. And I lovee Eudial and Mimete, but we don't need 5 of them. I'd just make those 2 Tomoe's assistants and that's that. Too many villains, especially if you're not going to do a motw format.

With Season 4.. uff where do I even begin. Tbh I scratch the whole season and do a ground up rebuilding project, but if I HAVE to stick with the canon structure I'll say make Nehellenia more present. She's THE BEST part of SuperS, make her more present and more threatening. Give her that mirror power from the get go, make her appear in mirrors, reflections, show her subtly , in the background, give the season a subtle but palpable atmosphere of unease, make her scary. I WANT TO BE SCARED of her! Also unrelated, but get RID of the S*A metaphor with the 3 eyes.

With Stars the whole pacing the season is a mess. The start is way too slow and the end is rushed as fuck. Introduce Galaxia as a present threat earlier, again idk how you'd do that exactly while keeping the episodic tempo of the show, but my solution is. Don't! Lol

[scara-writes]

100% perfect

GN!Esper!Reader x Y!Guide!Male OC

Note: hello im back. A lot happened, I had an anxiety attacks, my mind has been having a lot of bad thoughts, my dog passed away last year—three months ago... I didn't have a lot of time for me to write since I've been grieving for my dog's death up until now but I'm okay, I'm healing... Anyway, my writings is rusty and probably didn't improve. I know some of you guys really tried to reach out through ask and I'm kind of happy. Thanks. For now I'll give this to piece of one shot for a new year. This Esper x Guide thing I made might not be accurate. All i know is they are similar to Alpha x Omega shits except the curse thing on espers. This might be cringe. i will try to edit it. I will try to update the other oc's as well.

-also please do not do this, i do not condone anything in this story. This is purely fiction and be kept as a fiction.

CW: implied se(g)s, implied suicide(mention), yandere, drugging, manipulation, dynamic power, etc.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

"(Y/n)!!" A ginger haired male rush up to you, hugging you by the time you step on the greenery field of the university. Pastel blue of sweater was the first thing you see before you were envelope by a hug. You tense when his arms coils around your waist, hearing him breathe out of relief as he buries his face on your left shoulder. 

You don't know what to do everytime he does this. There were eyes everywhere and it doesn't seem like he is bothered by it.

Of course why would he?

Micah Clarke is not only popular and prettiest student in this campus. He is known for being famous as the youngest champion of ice skating 3 years ago, defending his title until now. His luscious natural lips, his hazel eyes that could make you halt on what you were doing, the type to make yourself give him a third glance because he is so pretty. So pretty that you sometimes envy his glassy skin, igniting a insecurities to yourself. His soft curly ginger hair and freckled face that matches his glossy alabaster complexion. The type of guy who prefers cute, pastel than those typical guys—omg so unique(lol)—that always choose to wear dark or dull colors. Everyone finds him attractive including yourself. Everything about him screams beauty and elegance. He can hook up with men and women if he wants to but he chose not to.

From what you heard, he is a rare S-rank Guide. Most espers would try hook up with him atleast make a contract with someone like him. He would rather spend his time painting his nails, crochetting, organising or planning his time, practicing his amazing skills on ice skating, or rather do hundred routine for his skincare than hook up with other people. Quirky, Alright. Still, this doesn't stop people from wanting to go between his pants and his fame.

To people he is a swan. He is epitome of perfection.

You always see him pass by to your department, always getting called by the principal,inviting him to do a photoshoot, using his face as an advertisment for upcoming enrollent or any event inside the university. You never dwell yourself to swoon on to him whenever he pass by. Fine, you do like him. But not the kind of like where you are romantically interest to him. You just admire his looks, his talents and that's about it. You just don't like he was too friendly, there's nothing wrong with that but invading someone else personal bubble space—and the feeling of shame on yourself for being near someone kind as him—as if you two are already close is not your thing to a person you rarely talk to. Unlike him, you are the quite the opposite when it comes to socialising,You like being alone, you aren't anti-social, atleast, that's what you think you are. You are confident by yourself. An Introvert.

You just like the silence. It eases your deteriorating mind—(stupid esper curse) Somewhere peace and quiet,reading books, listening to music—gosh laufey and wave to earth and even (favorite singer/composer) always sound so good, spending time with your pets, to drown out insanity voices piling up in your head. Although you just have a few friends, you love to be alone. You once dream about getting a job. To work hard and earn a good money, once you have enough money. You would spend it to buy a house and lot somewhere away from the city and nearby the countryside with a small farm. Letting your family and friends to visit you time to time in occassions. Where you can spend the rest of your life alone and happy. A dream that would be come true if only you didn't awakened as an esper after you reach 18.

As for the guy who has the entire school and other people folded for him. He is choosing you to lend his attention, to a person who doesn't like attention. So why was he talking to someone who is a nobody like a B-rank Esper like you? The only interaction you had with him before he let himself in your life was when you pull him away from the bridge—you didn't know him at that time—a few exchange greeting—which of course he would be the first one to initiate it—and.... The party....

"N-ngh!!!" A whiny moan escape his lips. Your lips were on his neck drinking each of his soft sound coming from his mouth. The blaring party background can be ignore in the background thanks to the closed lock door of this room the both of you are in.You bite and nip his skin as if animal marking its prey. You didn't care if you torn his shirt, you just needed his guide seep through more, letting your body gone addicted to him. "(Y-y/n)!" The whay he whimpered your name made you groaned. The way every pulse from his body sends his guiding through your body.  You were delirious, you can't resist him—

"Missed you! Why aren't you checking my messages? You know I got worried when you didn't reply." He whined, his orbs shows concern and sadness. You look away.

"...hey." you greeted him with quieter tone. You pulled away from the hug not liking the way your body just relaxes everytime his guide powers automatically seeps through your body. You don't hate it but you don't like the way that your body depends on someone just for the sake of being sane and relax.

.... The shame you are feeling over the past few weeks.

You still feel guilty and ashamed about it everytime you remember those memory.

"I... I was busy. Had to do homework. I fell asleep and forgot to charge my phone." You told him. Another excuse. You just put your phone on do not disturb.

You don't have the guts to tell a sweet person like him to leave you alone. Well you did because you are ashamed to face him but he insisted it was never you fault. It always ended up him spending time with you. You can't—you owe him more than anything—Especially now that all people's oggling to you too now that you have the attention of the star. They would try to befriending you so that they could get closer to him.

Gosh, you are getting tired. Why can't people leave you alone?

You missed the old times where you can be at peace. No drama, nowhere near on people who wants attention.

"O-oh. Well that's alright."he chided before grabbing your hands with both of his. His smooth hands rubbing against your ragged callouses. He continued, "well actually I was wondering could you hangout out with me? This friday? I know you don't have schedule at that time since you showed me your schedule—And I want to spend more time with you!" He beamed. His smile was out of this world and it blinds you.

"I uhh .. have a plan on that time..." You words went silent as soon as your eyes sees the smile from his lips slowly fell down to his face."really?" The grip on your hands were getting uncomfortable.

"Umm.... I just wanna be on my home and well—"He gasped, his smile is coming back on his symmetrical face as he clung to your right arm."oh! Why didn't you say so? We can hangout together in your home!"

Giddy, he press his front closer to you which made you feel suffocating. His guide power automatically seeps through you again.

"N-no, Mikah... What I meant to say is I plan to rest, like spend alone on that day. A peace and quiet." You slowly pull away your hand gently from his clinging hands.

You didn't expect he would react like this. Tears are already in the corner of his eyes. His lips quivering. "W-what? Are you saying that I'm boring, I-I'm too loud? Did I do something wrong?"

The people who were eavesdropping at your conversation sent a glare and unwanted resentment towards you. 

You quickly shook your head. Your free hand clasping against his clutching ones that is gripping your poor unavailable hand. "No... It's not like that. You didn't do anything wrong.. I just want a me time... You know when... Uhhh before you and I become friends.... I just want to relax by myself.... You're a good friend and a good company but... We've been hanging out for a while... Ummm w-what I'm trying to say is... I want some time to be alone. You... You know what I mean right?"

Micah gave you a blank stare. You were getting uneasy. You bite your inner cheek. Will he lash out? He never seem to be the person who never received a refusal on his entire life. As soon as 2 seconds has passed, you noticed his eyes were akin to sadness. You feel the guilt running up to your spine.

You tried to avoid his gaze looking straight his frowning lips before getting replace by a forced grin. "Oh! I get that! You wish a time for yourself! Self care stuff in all that!" 

Your heart beats a little faster in excitement, is he finally leaving you for a bit? You were about to thank him for understanding. He does l—

"B-but!!" He grabbed your hands again.

You internally groan. Does he even know the word no? Of course he don't.

He never had someone says no to him. Everything he request would be at his feet. You can't yell or be rude. That's not in your nature and plus if you done it. His fans would kill you.

"I need to be with you o-on friday! You know... I wanna spend my birthday with you.. P-please? your presence alone is enough a gift for me." He stammers. You blink in surprise. "I-I promise I won't bother you the next day if you really wanna spend t-time for yourself..."

Birthday?

"T-to be honest.... I don't like parties uhmm..." He lick his lips as if the word 'party' is a taboo between the two of you." Especially my birthday parties because a-although people greet me a happy birthday or any party occasion and stuff they never really mean it. They... Always use that as an excuse to use me for my fame or my money that I earned so hard in those competitions... I.. I plan to not throw one b-because m-my family isn't forcing me anymore... I just want to spend my birthday w-with you. Y-you're the only d-decent person who treated me normally."he stammer.  You feel a lump on your throat when he says you're a decent. "I... I know... Umm I'm asking to much f-from you and I know... you didn't mean to do that—" he continues to rambles that some of his words can't form a right sentence. You noticed his eyes were in the verge of tears, threatening to drop from his eyes. 

"I'm.... Not a decent person." You told him looking away from him, ashamed and hurt were written in your face.Your voice grew quiet but the man Infront catch on what you said, already refering to the 'incident' between the two of you. He bit his lower lips and almost yelled. His face pull out a sad look. It made him look cute if it's from a tears of joy."Y-you are ! You are a decent person! You know it's not your f-fault! You were d-drugged a-and I... I was drunk! W-we both know we weren't in o-our right minds! You never hurted me—!" He starts hiccuping. "You're a-a good person! W-what happened between that night s-should b-be buried! Y-you're a good friend! It's not your fault! It's not your f-fault!" With that he burst into tears.

You didn't expect for him to cry. You panic mentally. What should you do on these type of situations? You pull him for a hug—albeit stiffeningly."Ok... Ok... Don't cry.... I don't like it... When you cry.. I'm sorry." You told him honestly, truthfully this is not the first time he argued about the incident with you.

You still feel ashamed of yourself. You really do. 

The party. If only you didn't come to your friend's party. The guilt won't eat you. No matter how many times Micah convinced you that none of it was your fault. You feel like you can't face him. He did say he was also drunk at the time but still... You could have gotten home earlier and didn't force yourself on him.

You cried and apologised so many times from him at that time, swearing you will turn yourself over to the police and never let him see your face again. You saw how his whole body was full of marks, hickeys, and bruises. He look like he got ravage. His clothes were thorn and you wish the drug in your system that time killed you.

Micah's eyes light up and a smirk forming from his lips as he nuzzle his face on your neck, pretending to cry even more. Everything is planned, everything worked for him to get you under his palm. He can feel the guilt eating you. 

"... it's okay... Hik... " He sob sneaking in to kiss your neck. You are to busy awkwardly and hesitantly patting his back and hugging him

From the moment you save him from jumping off the bridge, he needed to make you his. Someone who genuinely cares for him in this greedy world is something he needed to treasure.

Oh how he had you wrap around his fingers the moment you accepted that drug-disguise juice from one of his friends offered by the man himself.

It doesn't matter. You're under his palm forever. Everything is 100% perfect.