#but what they mean is just they can tell me apart from a brand new person I guess which is fair

[strikeslip]

Fun Mistakes You Can Make When People Start Saying You're "Experienced" at Contra

Flourish but spin the wrong way, scare your partner

Trip a neighbor (>3 feet)

Wrong turn in the first set, now you've accidentally stolen someone else's partner and must dance with them for the rest of the dance

When the person asks if you want to switch, they mean switching roles repeatedly inside the dance, not switching once at the beginning, FYI.

which direction is left (a classic)

they think you know this flourish and You Do Not (fresh and exciting every time)

feet are for stepping on

mysterious etiquette around the name badges???

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [35] - Confessions

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A nightclub can be a good place for confessions.

Word Count: 2400

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You knew Bucky was trying to stay out of your way, you just knew.

Since you had first gotten married, he had never spent the night outside until tonight. When you woke up, the spot next to you was empty, so you huffed out a breath and went to the bathroom to take a shower. After that, you made your way downstairs to feed Alpine but the noise by the door made you turn your head.

Bucky hadn’t seen you just yet -he probably thought you were still asleep- and he made his way upstairs while you tilted your head, crossing your arms but keeping completely quiet in the kitchen. Even if you wanted to go upstairs after him, he didn’t take long, probably just changed his clothes and came back downstairs, stopping in his tracks when he saw you.

“Hey,” you said and he offered you a small smile.

“Hey,” he said, already making his way to the door with you following suit. “I have a meeting, I’ll see you tonight at the—”

“Bucky,” you said, your heartbeat speeding up and he froze by the door, then cleared his throat and turned to you.

“Hm?”

“Can we talk?”

“No.”

You pulled your brows together. “What? The fuck does that mean, no?”

He bit inside his cheek, averting his gaze from you.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said. “You heard what I said, so—”

“So what, we just don’t talk about it?”

Bucky paused for a moment, then nodded his head.

“Yeah,” he said. “That sounds like a good plan.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Charm, I have this meeting—”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It doesn’t change anything, okay?” he said. “What was I supposed to say? I was an ass to you because I took all my anger at my father and projected it onto you?”

“George never said anything to me,” you mused. “Neither did my father.”

“I doubt he mentioned it to him,” he said. “I mean…at least not until you came back from college.”

“But before that, only to you?”

Bucky pursed his lips together, still unable to look you in the eye and nodded.

“That was still an asshole move,” you pointed out and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, then nodded his head again.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck before his eyes found yours. “I’m sorry Charm. I really am, I was a dick. I never should’ve—that whole bullshit was between my father and me, you didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire. I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me for it, but I’ll try to…make it up to you. I’ll make sure you get that crown.”

You crossed your arms, pursing your lips and Bucky swallowed thickly, then cleared his throat.

“I’m just gonna—” he motioned at the door. “Uh, see you tonight at the club.”

With that, he walked out of the apartment and you leaned your back to the wall with a groan, pressing your palms on your eyes.

 “The club,” you muttered to yourself. “Right. Great.”

                                               *

The whole reason why you were going to the club was because of Rhett. He had mentioned wanting to go out and Clint’s brand-new club sounded perfect for the occasion, and you figured once everyone drank a little, making the deal would be much easier.

“Please tell me it’s a good club,” Rhett said as you both got your coffees and sat down to your table. The café you had picked was right across your father’s skyscraper, your surname shining against it and you heaved a sigh, then leaned back.

“One simple listener would think you don’t trust me, Rhett.”

“I flew here because I trust you,” Rhett reminded you. “Your taste in clubs however…”

“We met at a club, dumbass.”

“I’m still not convinced it was a club of your choosing, but your friends’,” Rhett pointed out, making you scrunch up your nose at him, then lightly kicked his shoe.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What does the rest of Chicago think about you doing business with New York?”

Rhett heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his curls, his rings catching your attention for a moment.

“They don’t necessarily love the idea.”

“None of them?”

“Most of them,” Rhett said. “My father thinks it’s a terrible idea.”

“Ah.”

“Caleb—you met Caleb, he also thinks it’s a bad idea.”

“Caleb is a dick.”

“And Alice and her family as well,” he said and scoffed. “But that one has more to do with you than the business.”

“Did you tell her I’m married to Bucky?”

He hummed. “She knows,” he said. “Still thinks…”

“That you and I are going to sleep together?”

Rhett shot you a small grin. “Yep.”

“I’m not the cheating type.”

“Never thought otherwise,” he said. “One does wonder though…”

You sipped your coffee. “Wonder what?”

“If we broke up for no reason.”

You lowered your coffee cup to give him a reprimanding look.

“There was a reason,” you said. “Business.”

“You don’t think we could’ve made it work?”

“Nope,” you said. “I’m not the type to play the housewife, you know that.”

“I never asked you to do that.”

“But that’s how Chicago works,” you said with a laugh. “And I would never be a mistress either so…”

He opened his mouth to retort but before he could, someone cleared their throat behind you, making both you and Rhett turn your heads and you rolled your eyes when you saw Ian.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I just left your father in his office,” he said. “You’re not gonna go and say hi?”

“Nope, I’m busy with my guest,” you said and motioned between them. “Ian, Rhett. Rhett, this is Ian, my cousin.”

“And her father’s heir,” Ian corrected you, extending his hand and Rhett raised his brows, eyeing his hand before looking up at him with a quizzical glare. You bit back your smile and nodded at Ryan by the door before turning to Ian who lowered his hand.

“Why is an heir who’s not even a firstborn talking to me?” Rhett asked you, completely ignoring Ian and you shrugged, smirking.

“No idea. Ian?”

“I speak for my uncle.”

“I’m not talking to your uncle either, buddy,” Rhett said with a snort. “We’re in the middle of a conversation and you’re interrupting us.”

A look of surprise crossed Ian’s features before he threw his shoulders back.

“Mr. Davis, if we’re going to do business, it is important that you respect me, if my uncle hears—”

“Oh we seem to have some miscommunication here,” Rhett said. “I’m not doing business with you, or your uncle. Go tell your uncle the only person who I’ll speak to in terms of business is his daughter, and that I don’t appreciate being put in a situation where I have to talk to a second-choice heir who doesn’t even deserve a title that moves through family.”

You pursed your lips together to hold back your laughter as Ian gritted his teeth.

“I’m his nephew.”

“Not his firstborn,” Rhett stated. “Not even his spare. Back in Chicago heirs have to prove their worth, and nothing I heard about you is worth anything, Ian. So why don’t you go back to your kids table and leave the grownups to have actual conversation about business? Because unlike you, your cousin here knows what she’s talking about.”

Ian looked like he was considering saying something and Rhett tilted his head, smirking as if daring him. Ian lingered there for a moment before throwing you a glare, then scoffed.

“We’ll be in touch,” he said and stormed out of the café while you let out a giggle.

“Aw,” you mocked him. “I think you hurt your feelings.”

“Someone had to, you guys are being too soft on heirs here,” Rhett pointed out, making you laugh. “Anyway, we were saying?”

                                                 *

Clint really did have a good taste in clubs.

A couple of years earlier, you would be dancing on the dancefloor and drinking to your heart’s desire. Your father’s notorious name always worked in your favor in the city, and clubs weren’t an exception to that. With a wave of your hand, your bodyguards, -or Bucky’s, Steve’s or Sam’s- would be dragging anyone who bothered you or Becca outside, but now that you came to the clubs only to make deals, you didn’t dance or drink too much.

Rhett seemed to be in a good mood along with everyone else as he laughed at something Steve said, then sipped his whiskey while Bucky had his arm thrown over the back of the sofa you both were sitting on, and as much as you wanted to keep your conversation from earlier going, you knew you couldn’t in front of Rhett.

“So yeah he turns to me and says, ‘Chicago will not like this’ and I’m like, ‘Motherfucker I am Chicago!’” Rhett said, letting out a laugh. “Apparently this guy he was working with, he didn’t even tell him my name, just sent him there.”

“No way.”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Which wasn’t even the first time someone within my father’s ranks tried to kill me.”

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “Even family, once.”

“How did you get out of that?”

Rhett smiled and nodded in your direction. “You’re looking at my guardian angel there.”

Bucky raised his brows. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s a long story,” you said. “And I barely did anything.”

“No no, she had the opportunity to actually cross me after she dumped me,” Rhett said. “But she didn’t.”

“Yeah well…” you said, leaning your head to Bucky’s shoulder. “I just don’t like traitors.”

“No, loyalty is—” Rhett motioned at you. “Her loyalty is something else. So you might be the luckiest man I’ve ever met, Barnes.”

You let out a laugh while Sam tilted his head and Steve stole a look at Bucky whose jaw clenched.

“Oh he knows,” you said, squeezing Bucky’s arm. “I remind him in case he forgets.”

Bucky hummed, pressing a kiss on top of your head, nuzzling into your hair and making your heart skip a happy beat even if you knew it was for show.

“And you don’t have to look so tense man,” Rhett said with a grin. “She rejected me earlier, so…”

Your eyes widened as you looked from him to Bucky whose glare turned sharp.

“I have no problem starting a war between Chicago and New York, Rhett,” he said. “Careful now.”

Rhett scoffed a laugh. “Or what?”

“Alright, before anyone says anything they might regret,” you stopped Bucky before he could retort and stood up, tugging Bucky by the hand. “Buck, a word?”

Bucky looked like he would say no, but you led him out of the VIP room to the nearest bathroom, nodding at the girls inside.

“Out,” you said and they scurried out of the bathroom before you slammed the door behind you and turned to Bucky.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Trying really hard not to shoot your ex,” Bucky retorted. “How about you?”

“Bucky…” you said, running a hand over your face. “We are not starting a war between Chicago and New York just because you’re feeling a bit territorial—”

“A bit territorial?” he repeated. “A bit territorial? Charm, the whole reason why that asshole can still talk is because you told me not to shoot him, but if he keeps pushing his luck—”

“That’s a joke!”

“I told you though, didn’t I?” he insisted. “I told you he’s here to…fucking steal you away.”

“The fuck am I, a loaf of bread?” you snapped at him. “This is not Les Mis, no one is stealing me away, do you hear yourself?”

“Do you?” he asked. “What did he mean, you rejecting him earlier?”

You looked up at the ceiling, reminding yourself to be calm.

“He was talking about when we used to date,” you said. “And I said we couldn’t have made it work anyway, that’s it. That’s what he means.”

“But he still hopes for it.”

“We’re married, Buck,” you reminded him, “It may be because of the business, but I’m sure you remember our deal—”

“Yeah, for you maybe.”

You pulled your brows together. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Bucky.”

“It’s business for you, Charm,” Bucky spat. “Which is fine, but don’t stand there and assume that it’s the same for me, okay? You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Your frown deepened.

“You married me for business,” you said. “So that I could get to the top, so that Ian wouldn’t break the truce, so that—”

“That’s what you think, huh?” Bucky asked, a dry laugh climbing up his throat and your heartbeat sped up as you stared at him.

“Then why?” you asked back and Bucky licked his lips.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Bucky I’ve had it up here playing this fucked up game with you,” you said, your voice low. “What, you’re pretending to be jealous of Rhett—”

“Pretending?”

“Yeah and you’re bluffing to start a war over some pissing contest—”

“I’m not bluffing.”

“You’ve been avoiding me since we left the therapist’s office—”

“Charm.”

“And I want us to talk but you keep running away from whatever nonsense—”

“I’m in love with you.”

The simple sentence managed to make you stop talking, your eyes snapping up to his as you gawked at him, your mouth half open.

“I married you because I’m in love with you,” he said. “I’m willing to start a war with Chicago, with New York, with your own father, because I’m in love with you.”

Bucky loved you.

He was in love with you.

The happy disbelief pinned you to your spot while the music echoed in the bathroom, and he let out a dry laugh.

“There,” he said. “Now you can reject me and we can just—”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence when you snapped out of the haze and turned around to lock the door, then made your way to him to pull him into a kiss, a pleasant warmth spreading from your chest to your whole body. He wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer, and you let out a giggle when he pulled back a little to look at you.

“You’re…you’re not rejecting me?”

“Bucky,” you said, grinning wide. “You can be such an idiot sometimes.”

With that, you stood on your tiptoes to kiss him again, a squeal leaving your lips as he lifted you and carried you to the bathroom vanity.

Chapter 36

[cheesesoda]

calling you out based on your favorite triplet!

it’s ya girl back at it again with the call out posts

cw: mentions of mental health issues, sexual trauma, and EDs

nick: if you’re a nick girl/boy/person, i get the feeling you’re the oldest. you sometimes tend to feel sorry for yourself and then you feel bad about feeling sorry for yourself and it becomes a vicious cycle. you probably have either dealt with body image issues or an eating disorder (idk every nick person i’ve met has dealt with that). you’re probably pretty insecure and you constantly compare yourself to all your friends and it’s tearing you apart. you have a hard time accepting compliments because you simply don’t believe them. i think there’s a lot you don’t talk about but then you blame others for your secrecy and feel bad for yourself, as if they just don’t understand. maybe try letting people in and let them have a shot at trying to understand you. you’re not an enigma.

songs you remind me of:

prom queen by beach bunny

not strong enough by boygenius

idontwannabeyouanymore by billie eilish

sippy cup by melanie martinez

orange juice by melanie martinez

tv by billie eilish

matt: if you’re a matt girl/boy/person, you’re probably the quietest one of the group. you possibly grew up without many friends and you often feel left out or unseen. you were the quiet kid and never really talked. you’re very nurturing and you try to take care of all your friends because you want them to know you see them. you’ve most likely dealt with mental health issues (specifically anxiety and/or depression). you tend to overthink a lot and you probably have a lot more to say than you actually say. you were probably the one who walked on the grass, the one who was the photographer but never in the photo, and the one who sat alone at lunch. as a kid, you went unnoticed but now you’re not. as a result, you end up purposely excluding yourself from your current friend group(s) because it’s what you’re used to and then you end up isolating yourself but you don’t realize that you’re doing it to yourself. i hope you’ll see that people do notice you and they do care about you. you’re not invisible.

songs that remind me of you:

the archer by taylor swift

chosen last by sara keys

letter to my 13 year old self by laufey

nobody by mitski

afraid by the neighbourhood

everything i wanted by billie eilish

chris: if you’re a chris girl/boy/person, i think you grew up too quickly. you probably had to start looking out for yourself at way too young of an age and now you have a hard time accepting nurturing and loving treatment. i get the feeling that you were sexualized from a young age too and you probably have some sexual trauma. as a result, you act hypersexual because it’s what you’ve been made to believe you’re supposed to be. people don’t take you seriously, probably because you are the funny one or the pretty one but you’re actually very observant and analytical. you notice things most people don’t. you’ve often been the butt of the joke in the friend group so now you make fun of everyone else before they can make fun of you. you might come off as mean but i think you’re just scared of being vulnerable. you definitely have commitment issues which probably stems from your childhood trauma (including but not limited to family issues). you end up getting yourself into dangerous or unhealthy or self destructive situations because it’s what you’re used to and you think it’s what people expect from you. you don’t have to follow your self fulfilled prophecy. you don’t have to be what others tell you that you are.

songs that remind me of you:

goddess by laufey

labyrinth by taylor swift

safeword by tv girl

don’t miss me by claire rosinkranz

brand new city by mitski

first love/late spring by mitski

[number1mingyustan]

If your taking recs can you do a jealous mingyu smut idw but I've been in love with your mingyu fics there so good!

model!mingyu x model!fem!reader

warnings: cursing, kissing, explicit smut, established relationship, fingering (f)., oral (f)., rough sex, begging, recording, sex on camera, oral (m.) , unprotected sex, creampie, jealousy

_______________________________________________

Mingyu isn't very good at hiding his emotions. He never really has been. He can try all he wants but there's always something in his tone of voice or his body language that serves as a dead giveaway of how he really feels.

Like right now.

He's got a smile on his face but there's a twitch in his eye and an aura that he seems to be emitting that says otherwise.

There's too many eyes on you tonight and he can't stand it. You recently went public with your relationship, so it's only natural that attention would be drawn your way.

The media took the news surprisingly well. Focused on theorizing how beautiful your kids would be with two parents so prominent in the modeling industry.

However, there seems to be more attention drawn on just you tonight. It's a typical high society event full of designer brands and expensive champagne. Paparazzi are savaging what they can, nothing out of the ordinary.

But you're radiating a different aura tonight and others seem to have picked up on it. More pictures and people are approaching you. Of course, you look absolutely stunning tonight, but his blood is boiling.

Too many eyes lingering on your body.

So he holds his arms around your waist a little tighter. Cuts conversations short and whisks you away from others as much as he can.

You catch onto it early, but choose not to address it. The words left unsaid even through the unnecessarily tense car ride back home.

The front door opens slowly and you step through. Your heels resound throughout the kitchen of the apartment as you step in. Mingyu takes your coat wordlessly, hanging it up in the closet.

You flick on the light above the stove, providing the dark kitchen with dim lighting only bright enough that you can make out the features of his face.

You lean over the counter, resting your chin on the palm of your hand and bat your eyelashes. "You wanna tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he mumvles, corssing his arms and leaning against the wall.

You raise an eyebrow, stepping from behind the counter. You walk over to him, taking his hands in yours. "Gyu."

He breathes out. "Fine."

"I didn't like the attention you were getting tonight."

"What do you mean love," you ask, cocking your head to the side.

"I don't know.... it just felt like everyone was staring at you and talking to you. Don't get me wrong, you're the prettiest girl in the world but fuck–it made me so mad. "

"You don't have anything to worry about Gyu," You look up at him sincerely. " 'M all yours."

"I know.." he mumbles. "Can't help it. You're too pretty."

You grin. "I'm only yours."

"Fuck," he breathes out, leaning closer so your faces only have a small gap separating you. "Say it again."

Your eyes scan his face slowly, admiring his features. "I'm yours."

"Fuck," he breathes out.

He leans in, closing the small gap between you. He kisses you roughly, leaning your back against the kitchen counter. His hands almost immediately grip your ass, giving it a light squeeze as he kisses you messily.

You drop to your knees, hands scrambling to undo his belt buckle. You allow his pants to drop and bring his underwear down with it. You waste no time, taking his thick cock in your hands and pumping him quickly.

You spit, coating your hand with the lubricant and continuing to stroke the length of his cock. You feel him harden and grow in your hand.

Once satisfied, you open your mouth, pressing the weight of his cock against your tongue. You take him in deeper, allowing your cheeks to fit as much as you can in your mouth.

You bob your head, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of your throat. You continue using your hand, stroking what doesn't fit in your mouth as you suck him.

"Shit–yeah.." he moans.

He grabs a fistful of your hair, making a lazy excuse for a ponytail and starts moving his hips. He starts off slow, testing the waters before his hips pick up pace and he fucks your throat.

He's vocal, letting moans and groans of your name slip past his lips as he thrusts his cock into your mouth. Your eyes water, but you manage.

Regardless of how many eyes lingered and wandered tonight, Mingyu felt a sense of pride in his chest. They could stare all they wanted, but this was a sight for his eyes only.

No one else gets to see you on your knees, determined to take everything he gives you while tears ruin your makeup and turn you into a beautiful mess.

He tugs at the makeshift ponytail in his fist and pulls your lips off of him. He guides you back up onto your feet and carries you in his arms toward the bedroom.

He helps you undress, taking off the black Valentino dress you're wearing and hanging it up in your closet. He makes his way back to you, pressing his lips against yours passionately once again.

Your back meets the mattress and his hands wander along your body. He pulls at the little bit of fabric still covering your body, tossing the articles of clothing onto the floor.

He pulls away from the kiss, flipping you over onto your stomach. He presses your chest down, lifting your ass up in the air. He curses under his breath.

"Shit... gonna fuck you so good. Gotta let everyone know you're mine."

You hum in agreement, sinking your face into the pillow. "Please.."

He spreads your legs apart and dips his head down behind you. His warm tongue licks a long stripe through your folds. You shudder at the unexpected contact.

He sucks on your clit, gliding his tongue along your folds skillfully from behind. He slips two fingers into you, stretching your cunt out. He curls his fingers, pressing them deeper into you at the angle from behind.

You cry out, burying your face deeper into the pillow to muffle your incessant moans. He lands a harsh slap on your ass. He pulls his fingers out of you and removes his lips from your cunt entirely. You whine.

You lift your head and start to look back, but Mingyu grabs you by the throat and forces you to look straight. "Liar..."

You feel the tip of his cock prodding your entrance.

"Acting like you're all mine.." he scoffs. "Getting all shy and quiet on me. Gonna make you scream and let everyone know."

Before you can respond, he's thrusting his cock into you. You cry out at first contact, feeling his cock splitting you open. "Fuck!"

He grabs a fistful of your hair again, tipping your head back to hold it up and prevent you from hiding in the pillow. He fucks you roughly, hips meeting your ass with force and an unwavering pace.

Your hands grip the bedsheets to keep you grounded. His cock fills you up perfectly, stretching your cunt open and making your legs shake.

"Mingyu ah-" you cry out.

He's reaching deep inside of you, cock pressing against the sweet spot that drives you crazy with each thrust. His large hand tightens his grip on your hair, forcing you to tilt your head and arch your back more. You can hear his breathing behind you and his cock throbs. "Fuck.. look at you. All mine, only mine."

Mingyu reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his phone. He holds the camera up, recording the area where your bodies meet. You moan out and begin fucking yourself back on his cock. You look back, smirking at the way your ass ripples each time it meets the force of his hips. "Shit yeah–just like that baby."

His eyes roll back and he can feel himself nearing the edge. He snakes a hand between your thighs and starts rubbing quick circles along your clit. You moan, crying out his name like a chant.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly. "Fuck– I'm cumming. Ah-Gyu!"

Your chest rises and falls quickly as the pleasure courses through your body. He follows behind you, thrusting sloppily until he's filling your cunt with his cum. The phone camera is shaky, but he fucks you through it.

You both breathe heavily as you come down. He pulls out, making sure the camera is pointed where your bodies meet. His cum drips out of your, running along your inner thighs. He watches with a smirk and cuts the video off.

He kisses your temple and climbs off the bed to get you a wet rag. He cleans you up and dresses you in one of his t-shirts. He puts on a pair of sweats and climbs underneath the covers next to you.

He spoons you, holding your body close to his knowing that you're his girl and only his.

_______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[sheerfreesia007]

Masterpiece of a Confession

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Word count: 1,802

Content warnings: Fluff, mention of alcohol

Summary: You and Hyunjin have made plans to hang out tonight. What happens when you find him a gift that he’s been eager to get his hands on, and when you present it to him he confesses to you?

Seoltang: Sugar

There was just something so comforting to you whenever you went shopping for hobby supplies. The store was perfectly lit to be able to show you all the colors of the materials that you were looking to buy. Not to mention all the sales that would normally come along. As you walked slowly down the aisle with all the multicolored yarn and thread you smiled softly while your hands gently trailed over the ones you liked. You picked out a few for a project that you were just starting and then a few more that caught your attention.

Just as you moved further down the aisle your cellphone began to ring and you smiled when you recognized who the ringtone was for. Fishing the device out of your bag you quickly answered the phone and held it to your ear still smiling.

”Hey Jinnie.” You greet him happily and he chuckles softly on the other end.

”Hi Seoltang, where are you right now?” He greeted and asked kindly. You could hear the smile in his voice as you continued to walk down the aisle perusing the merchandise.

”At the craft store picking up some material for my new project.” You tell him as you stop to look at some hand dyed material that catches your eye.

”Do you want to come hang out later once I’m done with this photoshoot? I miss you.” He says softly into the phone as if he doesn’t want anyone else to hear how sweet and soft he’s being. You smile to yourself at his tone, Hyunjin has always been like this with you. He was always able to relax and be himself whenever he was with you and you loved that about your relationship. Plus the fact that you were able to be such a comfort to him made your heart sing with joy.

”Of course I do. Do you want me to pick up some food for us and Changbin?” You ask him kindly when you turn down the paint aisle and smile softly at the reminder of your friend.

”Changbin’s going out with Jisung and Chan tonight. It’s just going to be the two of us.” Hyunjin responds and you nod your head at his words as you spot Hyunjin’s favorite brand of paint before walking over to it.

”Alright so then I’ll grab us some food, anything in particular you’d like?” You ask as you grab some of the paint colors that you know he runs out of a lot and slip them into your basket.

”I don’t know, comfort food?” He muses curiously and you nod your head knowing exactly what he means. Today had been a bit of a gloomy overcast day and it really should’ve kept you in your cozy bed but you were on a mission to get all of your errands done.

”Italian from that little mom and pop place not far from your apartment?” You ask curiously and Hyunjin gasps and hums in delight.

”Oh you read my mind.” He gushes out softly and you chuckle at him as your eyes continue down the shelves of paints when suddenly something catches your eye. “Maybe we can try some of those Aracini balls that we weren’t able to try last time.” He suggested and you hummed in agreement.

”Oooh that sounds great. I’ll make sure to get an order of those for us.” You tell him as you move down the aisle closer to the multicolored box in hopes that it was what you thought it was. Hyunjin had been going on and on about this paint set that he wanted to try but every time he tried to get it in any craft store they were always sold out, as you reached up and grabbed the box you nearly let out a squeal in delight! It was the same set that he had been talking about, and luckily for you it looked like it was the last one on the shelf. 

“Well I really called you to talk about our days but it looks like I don’t have that long of a break today.” Hyunjin sighed softly and you frowned in response to his words before beaming as you slipped the paint set into your basket.

”That’s okay Jinnie, we’ll have all of tonight to talk about our days.” You reassured him sweetly and he hummed softly in response.

”I can’t wait to see you tonight Seoltang.” He said softly. “I’ll see you later, I gotta get back now.”

”I’ll see you later Jinnie.” You respond happily and hang up the phone before quickly making your way to the registers to pay for your things. You were eager to get home so that you could wrap the gift for him and give it to him tonight when you saw him.

*-*-*-*

Your trek up to Hyunjin and Changbins’ apartment is an easy one for you as you eagerly stride up the stairs two at a time. You’ve got your tote bag that holds the wrapped gift for Hyunjin as well as a bottle of wine that you found in the family owned restaurant when you went to pick up your dinner order. It had looked and sounded like something the two of you would enjoy together while eating so you had bought it.

Just as you make it to the top step of their floor you stop for a second letting yourself catch your breath and you hear a soft sweet giggle coming from the side. Turning your head you grin at a giggling Changbin who eyes you happily.

”That eager to get to him yah?” He asks knowingly and you blush softly at his teasing which causes him to giggle more. “Don’t worry he’s just as eager for you.” He says before giving you a quick hug and then continuing on down the stairs. “I’ll sleep over at Chan’s place tonight so don’t worry if you have a sleepover.” He calls over his shoulder teasingly.

”Changbin!” You scold softly and he giggles loudly once more at you before waving at you over his shoulder.

”Was Changbin giving you a hard time?” Hyunjin asks you and you turn your head to see him standing in the doorway of his apartment looking at you worriedly. You grin at him happily and he reciprocates the grin with one of his own sweet smiles. “I’ll beat him up for you.” He offers and you laugh happily as you excitedly make your way over to him and wrap him in a tight hug.

”No, no nothing like that. Just a bit of teasing.” You explain as you bury your face in his worn cotton t-shirt. “And I’d never ask you to do that.” You scold him softly as he grins down at you while wrapping his arms tightly around you.

”The offer still stands.” He says with a shrug before guiding you into the apartment. “Wanna get changed in your pjs first and then we’ll eat on the couch while watching a drama?” He asks when he finally lets you go so that he could close and lock the door.

”Yes please.” You sigh out happily as you slip your shoes off and go to set the bag of dinner on the kitchen island and pull out the wine bottle as well. “I bought wine from the restaurant too. Sounded like something we’d enjoy.” You tell him over your shoulder as you walk away to the bathroom so that you could go get changed.

”Oooh, this is a good one. Good choice!” Hyunjin calls out and you chuckle softly as you quickly get changed into your pjs before walking back out to find that Hyunjin had already set up dinner on the coffee table and was just pulling up a recent drama that the two of you had gotten into. “C’mere Seoltang.” He calls from his spot on the couch and you grin while rushing over to tackle him in a tight hug causing him to laugh happily at your actions. The two of you stay like that for a few quiet moments before you remember the gift you had gotten him.

”Oh! Before we start. I have a gift for you.” You say with a hint of teasing and Hyunjin looks at you with wide eyes before he grins excitedly and holds his hands out.

”Gift, please!” He calls out and you laugh softly at him before shaking your head. He gasps and then dramatically throws himself on top of you groaning loudly. “I need whatever thoughtful gift you’ve gotten or I’ll perish Seoltang.” He cries out as he throws a hand up into the air and squints his eyes. “Darkness is already closing in! I Can feel death’s cold grip on me tightening.” He dramatically cries out and you laugh loudly as you shove him playfully off you before you reach for your tote bag and pull out the wrapped gift.

Hyunjin quickly sits up from his sprawled out position as he eyes the prettily wrapped gift with eager eyes. You look down at the gift in your lap and then look up at him with a teasing grin on your face. Hyunjin leans forward with wide pleading eyes and a pout on his lips trying to get you to give him his gift. You smile softly at him and lean over to press a sweet kiss to his forehead without even thinking about it, it just naturally came to you to do that.

”What’s the magic word?” You ask him softly and Hyunjin grins widely at you as his eyelids flutter with delight at your kiss.

”I love you.” He answers immediately before cupping your face and pulling you into a deep loving kiss that makes you squeak with surprise as Hyunjin smiles through the kiss. He pulls away softly and grins widely when your mouth moves to chase his making the love he holds in his body for you swell to consume him. He then pulls you back in for another kiss and whispers the confession between each kiss he gives you.

You’re giggling happily and adoringly as you try to pull away from him so that you can give him his gift before you give up and press the present into his chest before kissing him once again.

”I love you too.” You whisper against his mouth and Hyunjin practically beams at you before he pulls away and looks down at the gift in his hands. Quickly opening it his eyes widen as surprise and adoration fills him. He looks up at you with wide love filled eyes before he grabs onto your face and pulls you in for another deep loving kiss that he doesn’t let you up from for a few breathless moments.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken

[thezeninclan]

home to her | nanami kento x reader

kento swallows hard, and when he meets your gaze from across the kotatsu you can see that he looks as though he desperately desires to say something, but is trying hard to force it down. your brows furrow, the heat rising to his face having nothing to do with the warmth of the heater, and your hand lays upon the gift he had pushed across the table towards you. it wasn’t your birthday, wasn’t your anniversary, so the gift had come as a great surprise, despite the practiced nonchalance kento had shown when he whisked it from his satchel and laid it upon the table.

“a gift?” you asked, cheeks flushed with happiness. 

it wasn’t unusual for kento to return home at random with gifts for you, a bouquet of fresh cut lilies, a brand new journal, a sweet smelling candle. but you could tell from the way he presented it that this was something different, something new.  

your chest felt heavy and full, your body so light that for a moment you feared you might simply fly away, if it wasn’t for the wrapped parcel keeping you tethered. nanami nodded tersely, watching as you fingered the navy ribbon as your hands worked at the wrapped paper. 

you startled as the box came into view, the familiar hinged style telling you at once it was jewelry. 

you bit the bottom of your lip, hands nearly shaking as you opened the jewelry box and came face to face with what lay inside. it was a hammered chain-linked necklace, thin and fine, the color silvery-gold, so bright that it nearly glittered in the soft lamp light of the shared living room. your fingertips paused on their exploratory journey across the metal, feeling the heat of his gaze on the top of your head, and you looked up at him. “it’s beautiful.” you breathed, in awe and delight. he looks away from you, a splatter of pink painted across his cheeks that made him look unbearably endearing. but still he said nothing, looking down at his feet and frowning deeply enough to accentuates the sunken lines on his cheeks. 

you frowned, pushing yourself across the tatami to sit at his side. he had given you a gift, surely this must be a pleasant occasion— so why did he look so pained? 

you folded your legs neatly beneath you and placed your hand gently against his firm thigh in a silent gesture of affirmation, finally making him lift his head. kento sighed, long and deep, before lifting an arm and wrapping it around your shoulders, squeezing you against his side. you felt so at ease, so at peace— with your arms around his waist, his warm body pressed against yours, a big hand hand coming to rest upon the top of your head so he could gently stroke at your hair. 

“it’s-” he begins and you turn to look up at him through those big bright eyes he loves so much. he gestures to himself, his long fingers pressing to his blue striped shirt. you wanted them pressing against you. “to me it means...” he trails off again. it’s unusual to see him so at a loss for words, so completely out of his depth, and it just makes you cling to him further. “if you put it on then you shouldn’t...well, what I mean is that you shouldn’t—” 

you realize in a breath what he’s trying to say, the way his fingers have risen to his chest and pulled the collar of his shirt just slightly apart so that you can see a triangle of his bare chest. from the moment you had set your eyes upon him you had noticed something a miss, something unusual— but you hadn’t been able to place it until this moment, until you had caught sight of his naked throat. the chain he usually wore was gone, disappeared from its usual place resting upon his chest to reappear at your fingers. in the time you had known him he had never been without the golden necklace. when he slept he wore nothing but a pair of soft sleep pants and the golden chain, when he bathed or swam at the heated pool at the gym he did not remove it. even when he worked, he wore the chain beneath the lapels of his dark blue long sleeve. you knew how much it meant to him, so to see him without it, to see him gift it to you.    

“I won’t take it off.” you said, interrupting him gently by placing a hand on his. 

you entwined your fingers with his, feeling the calluses and rough skin from so many years of hard work. his eyes were firm as they met yours, unwavering, and yet there was a softness there that made you continue. 

“It means the same thing to me.” you promised, hoping your eyes spoke the words you mouth couldn’t. you knew the weight of the gesture, knew what it meant to him to have gifted that collar to you. “I won’t take it off, kento.” he loved the way you said his name, like a prayer, like a song, whose words only you knew.

the chain felt cool upon your skin as he laid it around your throat, fingers tickling the back of your neck as he did up the clasp. it felt heavy, solid, the same comfort as a weighted blanket orr a warm cup of tea on an icy day. his fingers lingered, sliding down the curve of your spine to the small of your back, the heat of his skin making you shiver. a hand rose to your neck, resting over the golden chain, the other cupping his cheek. your thumb brushed across his bottom lip, the preamble to a kiss that made a frisson of warmth burst through your body. 

“I love you.” you whispered back, kissing kissing kissing him. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” he whispered, and you knew he meant it, the intensity of his voice, the closeness of his lips against yours, the way he cradled your body against him, like you were something precious, something cherished.

also posted on ao3

[mara-and-its-the-same]

let’s understand that this is Mara immediately post breakup so this means i get to have it as wild as i want it to be...but anyway, all i’ve been thinking about is rebounding with Danny, duh. Beyond suggestive, it's directly implied, 2k words and a big thank you to @frnchgirls, rose is a most gracious help. Enjoy 🥰

“What about like this?”

If anyone asked Danny the series of events that led him here, there would be no sane answer. Friday night he meets you at the Vandals’ bar, Saturday night he learns that you live in Chicago but were dating another Vandal in a different chapter and just suffered a messy break up, and by Sunday afternoon he’s got you posing on his bed with the brand new knowledge that before you got into that relationship you were a lingerie model until that guy made you quit. 

“Danny?” You ask him again, leaning on your elbows and one knee slightly bent to the side over the other.

He shakes himself out of his daydreaming to realize that reality is ten times better and hopes you don’t notice his dazed off gaze from your side of the camera. “Yeah?”

“Is this a good pose?” 

Kathy told you that you should get back into modeling, then offered Danny to help you practice, maybe get new photos to show some agents.  Neither of you were busy this weekend, so now here you are in a brand new soft blue babydoll negligee that she made you buy the minute she heard about the split, on Danny’s bed. 

God, how he washed those sheets and cleaned all over his apartment as soon as you asked if you could do it at his place. It hasn’t been so neat since he toured the place. But now there you are wanting him to tell you if you look good in your lingerie on his bed. But photography is his job, he’s a professional, he can do this.

He could do this, if his tongue wasn’t suddenly tied until he swallowed thickly. “Yeah, maybe you just lean back a little more?”

“Like this?”

“Perfect.” He captures the picture and tries some more from a few different angles. “What about laying down?”

“Mhm,” you move a bit further down the bed and let your hair fall around you as best it could on its own. “Here?”

“Yeah, can I move your hair?”

“Yeah,” he rearranges your strands so they frame your face perfectly and look as effortless as possible.

“Gorgeous.” The shudder clicks right as he said it, so fast that he hits it a second time just to catch your smile when he says it.

“Really?” He catches the moment your face changes from eyes closed and sultry, to open and joyous.

“Beautiful.”

“Me? Or just your pictures? 

“You, and the pictures of you.”

“Thank you,” you roll over again and he gets one from another angle. 

It was never anything crazy, the sets you modeled. Just some odd jobs for more local boutiques, never anything obscene or ridiculously lavish. Danny refuses to believe that though. You make plastic rhinestones shine like diamonds. Machine spun cotton lace looks like hand threaded silk from Paris the second it touches your skin. 

“Do you think we got enough of this one?” you ask.

“I think so. I can get these developed and have them ready in a few days,” he starts packing his camera away. “What size did you say you wanted?”

“Oh I don’t know, but— Well actually I brought one more thing to try on. Unless you want to be done?”

He’s not sure how much more of this he can really take. How much longer can he be in the same room as you before he busts just from looking at you. 

“Yeah, sure- I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He tries not to stare as you slide of the bed and start looking through the bag you brought on his way out the door. 

3 minutes later your head is poked out of the door and into the kitchen, “Danny, you can come in now.”

Oh what a sight you are. The black nightgown reaches down all the way to your ankles, the silky fabric falls over your hips so perfectly, and the only thing between the air and your chest is a thin layer of the finest lace he’s ever seen. “I haven’t worn this in years.”

“That’s a shame.” He can’t believe he’s said that, especially in the tone he did, like he couldn’t believe you wouldn’t even wear it just by yourself. You must know how you look in it, how it looks tailored to your body in every square inch. 

“I know. But he didn’t like it. It’s vintage Chantelle, all silk. Didn’t know how to appreciate it properly.” You sit back on the bed again and just then he notices the slit up one side that just about nears the top of your thigh. 

You’re about to take a new pose when he asks you a most peculiar question. 

“I’m sorry?” You ask.

“Do you mind if I move you?” He says with more confidence this time and what a gift that he did.

“Sure.”

He sets the camera down on his dresser and comes towards you. With his hands on your shoulders— your nearly bare shoulders, his thumbs fitting perfectly just into the dips of your clavicles —he leads you to lay down against the pillows and rearranges your hair. He takes one of your hands and places it beside your head, the other he moves across your torso with your hand cusping your hip bone. He steps back a bit to consider your legs, with respect to the slit. After slowly, so slowly coasting down the length of your leg, he softly pulls one ankle down straight, and pushes the other slitted one up so that it is slightly bent at the knee and tilts it towards the other. 

He takes a second to look at you, really look at you, and he can’t believe anyone would ever try to keep you from this. 

Maybe he’s just getting to know your form, for the sake of the composition, you think. But only for a moment before you see him suck his bottom lip between his teeth, just for a second but you notice. 

Finally, finally, he takes the first picture of you like this. With the click of the shutter you’ve made your mind up, you decide to press your luck. “What if I like…” you bring the hand that was on your hip up to your mouth and bite the top knuckle of your index finger.

“Yes.”

“What’s the look you’re thinking though?”

“They’re your pictures. I’m thinking whatever you want me to think.”

“But you’re the photographer, the artist.”

“You’re the art.”

“Would you kiss me?”

He nearly drops the camera. “What?”

“They like when pictures tell stories, the story would be that I’m messy and ravished and the clothes are serving their intended purpose. If you’re alright with that?”

He so absolutely, most certainly, positively is more than just alright with that. “Yeah, ok.”

You push yourself back up on the bed while he positions himself at the edge. “So how do you wa—“ he’s cut off by your pull to his collar and the press of your lips. Surpassing his initial surprise he brings a hand up around you to hold your waist, and the other up to your jaw. Messy, you want it messy. And salacious, lascivious even. Beyond suggestive, obvious is what you need. He can tell from the way you continue to pull him into you even as his chest is flush against yours. 

You pull away panting for no more than a second to order “Get the camera off the bed.” How sweet of you to be concerned, he nearly leaps over you to put it on the nightstand and he’d like to say ‘if it were any less expensive’ he would have just thrown it, but he knows that the price of it wasn’t what stopped him, it was the fear of damaging even a single one of those pictures of you. 

As he’s leaning over you, you slide down a little further on the bed so he can reach you easier. Or maybe to muss your hair up a little more if it’s against the pillows, or any other excuse you could make to make it seem like this is all for the picture and not your own desires. 

From there it is licks, bites, tugs, sucks of lips. And you’re trying, you’re both trying to keep your hands out of it, but how could you when his hair is so soft and the back of his neck is the perfect shape for you to hold. And how could he when your skin is so perfect and your bare leg is right there.

“I want a hickey.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss my neck.” He kisses you twice more on his way to your throat and you can’t help the sound you make when he reaches the perfect spot. Already he has you gasping for air. “Oh god.” His hand slithers up the slit, sliding even higher in search of your hip bone or waist to hold. 

“Wait,” He lifts himself to be eye level with you, “wait—“

“Hm?”

“Sorry, just…You’re—This is real now, right?”

“Yes, yes, very real.” You rush to pull him back down to your lips and nearly crash noses with the way he rushes down to meet you. 

“Mmph,” he groans at the scratch of your nails across his scalp and just the sound makes your back arch. Moving down again, he passes soft kisses down the valley of your chest. You’re positive he can feel the beat of your heart through every inch of your skin. How you’ve missed this, being wanted, being adored. And how he’s missed crossing beyond the other side of the lens, the feel of sculpting another body just by the skill of his touch. 

As he’s pushing the side of your skirt up and away a sudden fear strikes you, “Wait!”

“What is it?” He immediately sits back and takes his hands away, looking into your eyes for any cause for concern.

“I’m so sorry, but I really don’t want to rip it.”

“Oh,” you see him immediately relax, “So…”

You make no answer, though you do sit up to your knees and move the skirt out from underneath you. With a gesture to the strap that has fallen off your shoulder, he finally gets the message. However, in the spirit of fairness, his own shirt is the first thing to go and before you have time to remember your original intent you both rise on your knees just to kiss again. You feel before you look while your hands roam his torso. 

And slowly, so slowly, through wandering presses, pulls, and squeezes, he reaches the sides of your thighs and takes your nightgown by the seams to lift it over your head. He takes it by the straps to hang by the corner of the headboard rather than tossing it to the floor. 

You guide him forwards as you move to your back again, his knee moves between your legs while his fingertips smooth along your jaw. His eyes dance around your face, and as embarrassed as he may be to admit it, he takes a fleeting glance down the space between your bodies. An idea flashes before him, a bold one, but at this point in the afternoon he’s not sure there’s much left that could happen between you two that’d be too bold. He reaches for the camera slowly enough that you knew exactly what he wants. You resist the instinct to shy away when you still see his soft gaze over the camera. The shudder clicks and he drops it back on the nightstand, “That one’s not making it into the book,” Danny smirks at his own teasing before leaning back into you to finish what he started with a smile still on his lips. 

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Bonus Prompt! And a little slightly longer than usual thing I wrote for it. Happy October!

It's A Horse

By the time I’m twelve years old, no one wants to spend the night at my house anymore. At eleven I lie curled up in bed, another girl my age pressed into my side, whispering in my ear as something watches us through the big dark window above our heads. 

“What is that?” 

“It’s a horse,” I tell her. 

We listen to it breath for a moment. 

“Are you sure?” 

She doesn’t trust me, and I don’t blame her. This horse sounds different from other horses. There is an utter lack of anxiety in its movements. It doesn’t huff, or shake its head, only stands out there and watches. Silent and unhurried, it carries the unbearably empty weight of outer space in each powerful cord of muscle, clinging to a complicated skeleton in a shape I can’t help but recognize. 

There’s no explanation for why it’s here, in a quiet suburb like mine. I would love to answer these questions, but that’s really all there is to it.

“It’s a horse,” I say, shrugging in the dark.

—

Years pass this way, and I can never manage to say it any differently no matter how hard I try. I begin to despise pretending it’s a dream, or a nightmare, or a ghost, when the reality is so simple and always has been. My frustration tastes bitter, as I imagine rumors spreading around school. Has she tried to tell you about the horse?

I’m tired, and lonely. At age fifteen I make a new friend, and when she spends the night for the first time I pretend I can’t hear the horse at all. I lie awake as my friend tosses and turns beside me. The horse watches us. It never blinks. 

—

A decade later, an old friend asks me about the horse. She looks nervous, and I tell her a familiar half truth:

I’ve been having the same dream lately, over and over. In it, I sit straight up in bed, the ghost of a heavy breath still warm on my face. I slip out from under the covers, and into the hall. One hand on the cool plaster wall, I walk slowly, without turning on the lights. The night is velvet soft around me, the utter silence like a pillow I might still be resting my head on. I reach the kitchen and stop in front of the glass garden door. The horse and I stare at each other. It is as simple a thing as it has always been, its inky eyes brimming with all the promise of two black holes. The moon sends a sliver of light down its broad back, so for a moment it might be a reflection in the glass that separates us. I reach for the handle, but the door is already open.

Face to face, it is clearer than ever before that the thing in front of me is a horse. It leans forward in slow motion, its neck stretching, extending towards me until its lips are an inch from my face. They peel back, revealing long, discolored horse teeth, bared in an unmistakable smile. Oh yes, this is a horse. 

I peel my own lips back. It’s only polite. 

—

“I don’t understand.” 

My friend leans away from me, exhausted by my story. Confusion and worry make a happy home in her narrowed eyes. Nothing has changed, all these years later. 

“That’s okay,” I say, smiling gently. 

We are sitting in a cafe on the ground floor of some new apartment building, and I re wrap my hands around the coffee in front of me. Outside, rain falls like a poem as a waitress’ shoes squeak across the linoleum. My fingers catch on a chip in my plain, eggshell mug. 

“Is something–” she starts.

“Nothing is wrong,” I insist, in the calm, firm tone of reassuring children.

“It just seems like you’re doing so well.”

“I am.”

I reach out and touch her hand. My friend’s fingers are cold, and as the warmth from my own seeps into them, she asks the funniest question I have heard in a long time.

“I mean…is it a metaphor?”

I stare at her, not sure whether to laugh or cry. I’m tired. 

The horse walks through the apartment directly above us, the brand new floorboards creaking beneath its weight. As slow as stone. As slow as always. 

I’m so tired, no longer eleven years old and naive, no longer fifteen and lonely. I’ll say it again, over and over, as many times as it takes to make someone understand. 

I’m cleverer now, and so are you. 

I keep my face blank on purpose, calm, composed, as I lean forward once more to answer your question. I speak slowly and clearly. 

“It’s a horse.”

[untoldstar]

Your writing is addictiveeeee. Can u do ur ocs reaction to being cheated on by reader? Im so down bad for jesse 😫 hes just a lil guy who wants to be loved! Sue me!

The yanderes reaction to you cheating on them

Thank you smmm🫶 but fr I’m down bad for Jesse as well even tho he’s a lil psycho🫠

I can make a part two for the rest of the oc’s if anyone’s interested I just usually go for these oc’s because they’re the most popular and seem like a common favorite.

warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, yandere themes, murder, stealing appearance and changing appearance (not reader), nsfw content, imprisonment, keeping reader locked up.

find out more about these characters here.

Ava (yandere best friend)

She’d go off the rails. She’ll cry and sob her heart out. she won’t talk to anyone except for you. Her phone is filled with missed calls and worried messages from her family and friends. Everyone gets so worried they start showing up at her apartment door but she’s too busy crying into her pillow waiting for your call or to hear your sweet voice outside her door.

She’d take you back in a heartbeat. Just please please don’t leave her.

Even if you already moved on and decided to be with your partner she’s still stuck on you and obsessing over how to get you back.

She’d go over every detail of the physical traits of the bitch you cheated on her with and tries to match it. What did you even see in them? they’re nothing compared to her!

Doesn’t matter. She’ll do whatever it takes. She’ll go as far as dying her hair, getting new piercings if they had any, changing her makeup, changing her entire wardrobe.

You’re absolutely mortified when she shows up at your doorstep looking like your partners lost twin.

Theo (yandere boss)

All his past paranoia will come right up to the surface. He’s always wanted to lock you up so no one would look at you so. No one would breathe your air. He didn’t want anyone to have the pleasure of even looking at you.

And you’ve finally given him a reason.

He has you cooped up in his mansion with no way of getting out. You’re always watched and monitored. Most of the week he’s working from home to be around you. Clothing you, feeding you, bathing you. He won’t let you out of your sight for a single second.

And every time you ask about your partner he’d smile softly and tell you to not worry about them. They don’t mean anything to you anymore.

Because they’re not here anymore.

Warner (rich yandere)

He can never be angry with you. No never~

But he will give you the punishment you deserve.

And he has certain methods for punishment like having you tied up to his bed and leaving you all alone in a dark lonely room with a vibrator strapped to your cunt.

You’re not truly alone of course, he’s always watching you with the cameras he set up.

Howw else is he supposed to stop the vibrator right when you’re about to cum?

Other than making you struggle for his forgiveness he also has to keep you busy while he gets rid of your little problem. He’s hurt people for you before and certainly has killed them but he’s never gotten to this level of cold blooded torture.

He spills their blood while in a trance like state, he’s absolutely drenched in their blood and the scene is gruesome enough to have his body guards who have seen many similar things while working with him not withstand this particular scene.

But you won’t know any of it, you don’t have to. They’re a distant memory by the time he’s back home in brand new clothes and looking as sharp as ever. Some of that rage is still simmering under that cool exterior though so he’s not quite finished with you yet.

Yandere bully

You’re not even in a relationship the guy tortures you on a daily basis! but he saw you get all blushy and smiling while another guy was teasing you in the hallway.

You never blush when he messes you what the fuck is that about?

That’s as good as cheating in his delusional mind.

He starts clinging to you everyday even more than before. Scowling and glaring at any guy who passes you by like a guard dog. You’re too focused on his asshole behavior to notice that you haven’t even seen the guy since.

You’ve heard students around you murmuring about a student who’s been in such a bad accident that he can’t even walk anymore. So many broken bones, swollen flesh, he might have even gotten a brain injury. Poor thing can’t even come to school anymore.

You never made the dots…

bonus! Yandere tentacle monster

Nom.

Let’s not forget this guy is an actual monster the second that guy gets on top of you on the bed he has already devoured him.

He walks toward you with an icy expression while wiping the blood off his mouth not paying any mind to your mortified expressions.

“You could’ve of at least brought a proper meal pet. That tasted absolutely terrible. I’d much rather eat you instead~”

the person reader cheated with knowing they’re absolutely fucked no matter who the oc is:

[fleckcmscott]

At Long Last

Summary: With Y/N's help, Arthur begins to discover what openness truly means.

Words: 2,287

Warnings: Swearing, Adult situations

A/N: A hearty welcome and hello to new readers! 😃 And much love and thanks to old! 🤗💜 This story came to me right after watching the sequel. I wanted to return to the beginnings of Arthur and Y/N's relationship, revisit those trepidatious yet thrilling early days. This piece takes place four days after After. Special thanks to @sweet-nothings04 for beta-ing! Please enjoy!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Arthur trudged into his apartment, dragging a sopping wet hamper behind him.

Out of Order signs had hung from 225a Anderson Avenue's row of dryers for the better part of two weeks. He'd managed to avoid the basement laundromat, its abandoned bowling alley charms. Scrubbed a stain on his trousers in the sink, soaked t-shirts in a basin with a scoop of Borax. But with the armpits of his cardigans too funky to wear, he'd found himself in a pinch.

His last three quarters had clinked to the bottom of the Speed Queen - and the machine had quit as soon as it'd hit the spin cycle. Not a shock, really. That was the way everything went for good old Arthur Fleck. His minor celebrity status hadn't spun a better thread.

Splats across the basement floor, a puddle in the rickety elevator, streaks down the hall to 8J. A trail of clues for the absent super to follow and lay blame.

Arthur kicked the hamper for bad measure. Water seeped onto the entrance runner. Shoulders sagged under twenty pounds of resignation, a peck of indignation ground his teeth. He shoved another cigarette between his lips and puffed storm clouds from his nose.

Just as he was draping a thermal shirt over the side of the tub, the telephone rang. Scoffing, he grabbed a crumpled pair of briefs.

The hospital had called during skipped breakfast, said his first choice for a home to send Penny to had no space. He'd offered a suggestion ("Can you tell them I was on Murray? Maybe they'll have a bed then."), then told them to try another, any other. A Gotham Hydro bill marked Past Due had put him on notice, but he'd mailed the check two days ago, so whatever. They could leave a message.

But the answering machine didn't answer. It hit him that he'd unplugged it last night, the result of a prank caller asking him to do his dumb laugh. A minute more and the branging and bronging continued, a ring that would ricochet in his skull for hours.

"Fuck," he muttered. Wiping his hands on his pajama bottoms, he charged to the kitchen phone. "Hello?"

"Arthur, hi," Y/N said.

Warmth melted the icicle of frustration lodged in his chest, the out of the blue call instantly easing his load. His girlfriend, a brand-new thread that wound him up in all the right ways. He sighed her name and leaned on the counter as she continued. "Are you busy? I can call later."

"No. No, I'm good. Free, I mean." He tapped his cigarette into a pink ashtray. "You can talk to me now."

"I was wondering if I could have my joke a little earlier today. Patricia is at a conference of counsel on that goddamn Wayne case, and I'm losing my mind."

"Well..." He eyed his wet feet, the puddle he needed to mop up. "What did one washing machine say to the other?" After giving her three chances to guess, he offered the punchline. "This is a draining job." Light laughter on the other end. He grabbed a pencil and jotted the quip before he could forget it.

"Do you want to go out tonight?" she asked. "There's an Italian place a block from me that makes a great chicken parmesan."

He did. But Arthur didn't have to check his wallet to know it was empty. "No, thank you."

A photocopier hummed in the background. "Well, why don't you come over for dinner? Matt won't care if I take a long lunch. I'll throw a soup together in my crockpot, it'll be ready by the time you get there. You could take leftovers."

His eyelids slammed shut, the need to cling to her battling his pride. She'd already paid for lunch last Thursday, bought their movie tickets Saturday, and made dinner that evening. He'd wished her good night and left, heavy steps carrying him back to his place despite her pout that he loved so much. He refused to be the burden on Y/N that he'd been on Penny.

"That's really-" He spoke with the same steadiness he practiced for performances. Gulped against a watery tremor. "That's okay."

"That's okay? Does that mean yes?"

Tongue tied, he swiped at his nose. God, she was stubborn.

The creak of her office chair. Her voice lowered, like she was cupping her hand over the receiver. Throaty and conspiratorial. "Arthur, I've needed you inside me all morning, and I don't see that ache going away without you."

Only his furrowed brow kept his eyes from falling out of his head. His mouth watered at the idea of sharing a meal with her - but not as much as at what she'd just confessed.

God, she was sensational.

Swiping greasy strands of hair from his cheek, he decided to move the laundry from the tub to the sink. "I- I'll be there."

~~~~~

It was breathy and quick, a speed Arthur associated more with first times than sevenths. (He'd been without his meds for about a month and assumed that was at fault.) He blinked at her after he came. Swallowed and squirmed between her legs.

Y/N giggled and washed away his embarrassment. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said, nimble fingers lacing through freshly shampooed locks. Her pelvis canted upward, her mouth striving towards his.

He rolled to her left, to her side of the bed. Turned to study her profile. Her hand was splayed on her sternum, which slowed to rise and fall at an easy pace. He tucked himself under the floral comforter, thicker and softer than anything he had at home.

A few huffs later and she cackled with laughter. "I haven't been this horny in ages."

Parted fingers covered his eyes, a swelling pride permeating bashful chuckles. He hadn't been this horny ever. Yeah, there'd been urges. The same desires as any other man. But getting to know himself as a sexual being, having a sex life, being and having a lover felt like a long-desired suit. A suit he'd finally gotten his hands on and was now learning to tailor.

He folded an arm behind his head. Good thing something this wonderful was free.

She propped herself on her elbow. "We need to catch another movie soon. I keep thinking of you in the theatre, humming along to all the songs. How many times have you seen it?"

Shall We Dance was a perennial favorite, the tale of two dancers driven to marry by spectacle and rumor, who in the end fall in love. "I dunno. Fifty?" It was in constant rotation on GMC, a soundtrack to his growing up.

He nestled back into her pillow. "I used to imagine I was Fred Astaire. That one day I'd meet my Ginger." His face heated at that admission, the fantasies of a schoolboy he carried to this day. But perhaps telling Y/N without hesitation was what intimacy was. What safety and security were supposed to feel like.

"That's a high bar." She rucked the sheet to her armpits. "I hope you're not disappointed."

"No. I'm not," he said, as serious as an NCB interviewee. "You get me."

"You're not that hard to figure out."

"You're perfect."

A grimace flashed across her forehead. "No. I'm not."

Looping an arm about her middle, he tugged her to him. "Well, you're perfect for me."

That appeared to suit her. She snuggled against his side, lay her head on his bare shoulder. He nuzzled at her sepia hair, kissed her brow. His focused stare dwindled, a story unfurling in his heart.

Full page notices of their impending matrimony splashed across the Gotham Examiner, the Gazette, the Globe, papers read by the poor and powerless. The Gotham Times and the Journal, papers read by the prosperous and powerful. Announcements for everyone who'd made fun of him, everyone who'd underestimated him. Hoyt, Randall, Mur-ray. Hell, even Penny, who'd told Y/N she'd never believed he'd find a girlfriend. Treasures he'd tear from the newsprint and paste in his journal. Reminders of all he'd earned, that he'd gotten what he deserved.

Y/N murmured that the pea and ham soup should be done, and his daydream gave way to reality. When she asked why he hadn't wanted to come over, he gave a grunt of acknowledgment but no answer. He let his gaze roam the room, a grounding exercise he'd learned during one of his stints at Arkham State Hospital. A way to make himself present.

A two door in-wall closet was across from the foot of the bed, a walnut bow-back armchair sat in the corner by the door. Against the left wall stood a chest of drawers, on top of which sat a jewelry box, a watch, a vanity mirror, and a hairbrush. Little pieces of her that would be joined by his.

On her nightstand was a ceramic lamp, mauve and round, accompanied by a digital clock radio and a pen. A short stack of softcover books was next to it, five in total. The top book lay open, face down. He cocked his head to read the spine. Loving Someone with Major Depressive Disorder.

"What's this?" he asked, plucking it from the pile.

"A series I'm reading through."

He scanned the other books long enough to catch partial titles. ...someone with manic... ...traumatic stress... ...iety disorder... Manuals of misfortune. He worried the tip of his tongue. "Because of me?"

She ran her palm across his abdomen. "Because I want to do the right thing."

He skimmed the page she'd left off on.

Telling your loved one, "If you'd only try harder" or "Why can't you just be happy?" merely serves to worsen his mental state. Such phrases contribute to the hopelessness and shame a patient is already feeling. It is as useful as telling a cancer patient that with enough positive thinking, he can cure himself.

Y/N would never say anything of the sort. Of that, he was sure. She listened, took him seriously, even when she disagreed. She was as far from Penny as east was from west, a woman who'd slapped him with a nickname and treated him like an invisible man. Y/N having these paperbacks on her nightstand meant that she saw him. That she cared.

That he was the first thing she thought of in the morning and the last each and every night.

He replaced the book, cuddled her closer. "Maybe I should read a law book or something. You know, to learn about your job?" Though he had a vague understanding of her work, knew it had to do with the legal system, the specifics eluded him. She seemed to be detective, secretary, and lawyer all rolled into one.

She pushed herself from the mattress and went to the closet. Pulled the corner chair before it and climbed. He admired the shapeliness of her bottom, the ease of her nakedness.

After some shuffling, she hopped back down and threw on a robe. Returned to his side to hand him a green hardcover with gold lettering: Paralegal Practice and Procedure.

The textbook was lead in his hands, the thickest he'd ever held. He flipped to the last page. Glimpsed the size ten font and page number 356. Twitchy fingertips drummed the cover. "Can I- Can I borrow it?"

"Of course," she answered, and set it aside. She drew a line down his forehead. "I'll dogear the important parts. You can always ask me about it, too. I'd like that."

Long eyelashes cast a shadow on his cheeks. "What's the hardest case you've had?"

"The Wayne case." Her trail continued along the bridge of his nose.

"And the best?"

Her breath brushed his face. She followed the groove that ran from his nose to his mouth. "The Wayne case," she said with unexpected warmth. Her thumb traced the scar on his upper lip.

On a flinch, he seized her hand. Thought to move it away, to a smoother part of his body. The sharp plain of his cheek, the swell of his bicep, the sinewy inside of his thigh. Places she loved to caress, spots he'd accepted she admired.

But her kind expression, soft yet inquisitive, forced him to reconsider.

For the most part, the scar didn't bother him, though it could be a pain to shave around. Its origins were unknown. If it was a parting gift from one of Penny's boyfriends, or if he'd been born with it. If he'd been malformed in the womb. The flaw was visible for everyone to see in the same way his laughing condition was audible for everyone to hear.

No one had gone out of the way to touch it. To touch him. People had avoided him his whole life. Gossiped behind his back after he'd pass, scoffed when he'd offer his laminated card. The strangeness of this woman diving into him was hard to take.

Was it possible for vulnerability to no longer invite further pain?

A quick blink against the wetness flooding his eyes. His heart beating against hers. He pressed her to the scar, tilted upward into her grasp. Not trying to halt the watery tremor in his words, Arthur whispered what he'd longed to since she'd returned to him. Since he'd taken her on his kitchen floor.

"I- I'm in love with you."

Beaming, Y/N twined her legs with his, her center damp on his thigh. "You're one of the best things that's ever happened to me." Her thumb dragged along the scar once more. "I'm in love with you, too."

She bent to kiss it, then kissed him. Full and wet and sweet and the whole world.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​​ @rommies​​​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1​​​​​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​​​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​​​ @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics​​​​​ @iartsometimes​​​​​ @fleckficgirl

[bbearthyy]

He’s Just A Baby

Summary: KookQueen!Reader x Pogue!JJ Maybank + x DrugDealer!Rafe (he’s dating Barry and I will not take no for an answer, except you can’t rly tell in this fic cause i was too focused on JJ/Rafe). JJ has an argument with reader and runs off, he goes to Barry’s searching for drugs (nothin too crazy just some addy and weed) but is denied because you told Rafe and Barry not to give him anything, he has a breakdown and Rafe has to take over the role of Dom until you get there. You and JJ go home and have emotional make-up sec till he sleeps (pt. 2). Okai Bai

CW: Dom!Reader, Sub!JJ, Crybaby!JJ, Mommy Kink (just a little tho), not daddy KINK but there is usage of the word daddy- yknow?, i think it’s little space? idk if it rly is but he’s like DEEP into subspace if not (somebody educate me pls i searched for hours how to describe what happens in this fic and i found nothing), Rafe (unwarranted) doms JJ but it’s only to calm him down and nothing sexual happens, lemme know if i missed anything *OPTIONAL* IN PART 2 {Overstim, Riding, Dacryphilia, Slapping, Falling asleep during sex, the pogues are kinda assholes but only for a sec,}

(this is mostly rafe x jj x barry but i pinky promise part 2 has more x reader if y’all want that. oh also there’s no gold in this AU, Rafe is sober, and everybody gets along)

“I mean honestly JJ! What the fuck were you thinking?! It’s like you want us to break up!”

The words wouldn’t leave the boys mind, bouncing off the sides of his skull and repeating over and over, seeming louder each time. Tears were pouring down his face, though it was hard to tell with the rain soaking his body. JJ was running. Away from you. He never thought he’d run again, his dad was dead and he’d been living with you for two years now. Originally you’d lived in an apartment paid for by your parents, but since you’ve become CEO of their company (per their retirement), you’ve bought your own home. A quaint little house with a pier leading right to the beach. It was JJ’s sanctuary. You are his sanctuary.

He couldn’t even remember what he’d done at this point. All he knew is you were angry and he was scared. He could feel his mind fuzzing over, brain fighting to pull him into subspace to avoid the panic attack making itself known. But JJ ignored the call of the fuzzy headspace, his bare feet coming to a halt, right outside Barry’s home.

He stormed up to the door, banging on it with his fist. The tears were still pouring from his eyes, but he made no noise, and his body was ram rod straight, so that if you couldn’t see his tears, you’d have no idea he was crying. “What the fuck??” Barry snatched open his door, the loud knocking forcefully coming to a stop. Rafe stood behind the older man, arms crossed and a concerned look covering his features, “Jay?”

“Barry you gotta gimme somethin’ man,” JJ whimpered, pushing past the man and into the house, plopping down on the brand new couch - courtesy of Rafe. “Nuh uh, nope,” Barry denied him immediately, very fond of the life he still had. “Your old lady would murder me if I gave you anythin’, you gotta leave. Now”

JJ evaporated at the words, slumping into the couch, his headspace finally winning over. The blonde sobbed, pulling his knees up to his chest, arms holding them tight as he hid his face. “Mama’s gon’ be so mad at me!” His cries shook his whole body, trembling from the cold, anxiety of getting in trouble, and sobs that he couldn’t seem to stop. Rafe’s protective side kicked in immediately.

“Bear get me water please. Ice cold. And in one of those sippy cups we keep for your nieces,” Rafe softly ordered, sitting down on the couch next to JJ. The younger boy was now rocking himself back and forth, fingers intertwining in his hair and pulling on the strands. “Baby,” Rafe began, voice soft but loud enough that JJ could hear over his cries. “Can I touch you dewdrop? Hm? Just want a hug,” Rafe began, and when JJ didn’t respond, instead pulling harder, he continued, hesitant and quiet, “Can daddy hold his little boy for a minute?” That got the boys attention.

JJ’s cries stopped immediately, his entire body freezing. His arms slowly moved, knees slipping down, until finally, JJ showed his face. “Daddy?” It was barely a whisper, and if Rafe wasn’t looking right at the blonde, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. “Yeah, little dewdrop,” He began, slowly opening his arms so as not to startle the shaky boy before him. “Can daddy hold you? Might make you feel better?”

Barry walked quietly into the room, two cups in hand. One carried a sippy cup, filled with the ice water Rafe requested, and he sat it gently on the table. The other held a baby bottle, filled to the brim with what he called ‘baby sleeper’, Barry’s own concoction of warm milk, condensed milk, vanilla extract, and sugar (and a tiny sprinkle of melatonin, but only a little, he doesn’t want to drug his friends). The older man had created this when he realized just how many of his friends were submissive, some coming to him when they need to clear their head.

Both men are startled when JJ leaps forward, burying his face into Rafe’s chest as he climbs in his lap, straddling the Kooks thighs. JJ goes limp as soon as he gets comfortable, head pressed firm against Rafe’s left pec, arms hanging limply by his sides as he slumps against the larger man. “Dada,” he mumbles, smacking his lips as he begins to babble babyish nonsense.

“Yeah, dewy,” Rafe began, reaching out for the milk rather than the water when he sees the state JJ is in. “C’mere little one, daddy’s gotchu.” Rafe pulled the boy closer, laying back against the arm of the couch, laying JJ against his side and supporting his wobbly head with his arm. Barry stepped forward, “Hey little rapunzel,” he murmured, smiling softly when JJ giggled at the nickname. Barry handed Rafe the bottle, watching as the taller man pressed the nipple to JJ’s lips. The small boy watched Rafe closely, eyes tracking his every movement. Rafe was patient, simply rubbing the nipple of the bottle over JJ’s lips, waiting for the boy to notice it, milk spilling out a bit and lightly coating his lips. As soon as he realized what daddy was doin, JJ’s mouth popped open eagerly, the nipple slipping inside, the sweet taste of ‘baby sleeper’ instantly flooding his senses.

Barry stepped away once the boys were settled, pulling out his phone to call his close friend. She answered immediately. “Hey, Ma-“ The man began to speak, immediately being cut off. “Barry! Oh thank goodness, is he with you??! Please I can’t find JJ!” Barry lowered his voice, shushing her softly, “Yeah he’s here, Rafe’s got him down. You on the way?” Barry listened carefully, hearing your distressed sniffles and the way you took a deep breath, he could almost see you putting up your walls. “Yeah, just give me a couple hours please? Can you watch him? I just- I can’t do this right now I need a minute.” Barry assured the girl immediately, “No problem, Ma, take your time,” He mumbled, glancing over at the boys on his couch. “I’ve got him.”

Barry walked back over to the men, watching Rafe support JJ’s head with his bicep, the smaller boy’s body gone completely limp. The blonde stared wide-eyed up at Rafe, who was telling a fairytale, Rapunzel, from what Barry could tell. Every once in a while Rafe would have to stop, his pinky coming up to tap the young boy’s cheek and wipe the spilling milk off, reminding JJ to continue drinking instead of just letting it fill his mouth.

While JJ was distracted, Barry had grabbed some of his own pajama pants, quickly but quietly pulling JJ’s wet jeans off of his body and replacing them with the comfier item of clothing. Barry begrudgingly pulled JJ away from Rafe, just long enough to remove his sopping wet shirt, but the boy sobbed like it was pure torture. “Daddy! Wan’ baba. Daddy tell him no. Sto’ bear please! No more, wan’ daddy! S’op it, stop! Daddy!” The blonde only calmed when Rafe pulled him into his arms once more, chest now bare, having removed his own shirt in believing that skin-on-skin would benefit the smaller boy. “Sh, sh, sh. Enough of that now little one. Barry was only trying to help, you say thank you. Now c’mere, daddy’s gotchu. My little dewdrop, sweet dewy.��� JJ went limp once more, head bobbing until Rafe propped it up against his bicep. The older man fought the urge to giggle as JJ stared up at him starry-eyed once more, completely in a daze. Rafe brought the bottle to JJ’s lips, rubbing the nipple over them once more to gain his attention, but the boy didn’t realize what he was meant to do until Rafe tapped the bottle against his lips gently, his mouth opening wide to take it. 

Soon, JJ is fast asleep, the bottle is replaced with a baby blue pacifier, and the boy is moved to the bedroom. His eyes flutter and he whines for a bit after being laid on the bed, harshly sucking on the paci, kicking his legs out and flailing his arms in a mini tantrum, but after some tummy rubs from Rafe and words of mumbled praise by Barry, he relaxed once more. The men lay him on his side, Rafe taking the front and Barry the back. After a while of comfortable silence, they too fall asleep, all three of the men snoring softly.



[prettybuck]

marked me like a bloodstain bucktommy // mob/mafia au // teen // 1913

Prompt for @badthingshappenbingo: Rope Burns

❁❁❁❁❁❁

Being kidnapped is nothing like the movies.

There is no smug, taunting villain revealing all of their masterful plans or menacing henchmen looming over him threateningly.

There’s just Buck, alone and bound with tight rope around his wrists and ankles. He woke up to darkness in a too small space, a pulsing ache in his head and his fear rapidly building. He can’t remember anything past lunch with Maddie, and there’s no telling how long ago that must have been. He had plans for the rest of the day. He was supposed to stop by his favorite farmer’s market to visit all of his favorite stalls and maybe a few new ones. He planned to find all the ingredients he needed for dinner, and maybe pick up some of Tommy’s favorite fudge along the way.

Tommy.

Tears sting at his eyes, slipped down his cheeks and soaking into the gag tied tight around his head.

There’s no doubt that he must be losing his mind. He’d never admit to it, but Buck knows well enough that this exact scenario is among his greatest fears. He feels so foolish now, refusing Tommy’s many offers of protection. Insisting that he could protect himself just fine. It’s a horrible way to learn how wrong he was, and it’s all he can do not to lose himself to the panic clawing at every inch of him. Tugging uselessly at the rope, Buck ignores the pain as it digs into the delicate skin of his wrists, kicking out with his bound feet.

No one comes.

Whoever took him clearly doesn’t care how much noise he makes, and that’s all the more terrifying. If they aren’t worried, it must mean there’s no one else around to hear him. The realization drains the fight right out of him, and he’s left breathing hard and falling apart in the dark, silent aftermath. A dozen possibilities fill his mind for what may happen to him next, each worse than the one before.

He isn’t supposed to be here.

This isn’t even his life. Not really.

His captors have to know that. They must believe that he doesn’t have any useful information, if they aren’t trying to drag anything out of him. He’s heard it all before, from the people who look at him and see nothing but a pretty piece of ass. It never bothers him, simply because he knows better. Tommy erases all doubts before they can take root, murmuring assurances in public and worshipping him in private.

There’s no doubt in his mind that Tommy will try to find him. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t.

Maybe he just won’t make it in time.

It’s a different brand of torture, being trapped in the darkness as time ticks by. Every time he thinks he hears voices or movement, it’s impossible to know whether it’s real or a trick of his desperate minds. Nothing changes, no matter what he does. He screams into the gag until his throat burns and his head feels like it may split open completely.

It does nothing but tire him out.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, only that he wakes to the sound of heavy footsteps. Buck is helpless to listen, and he flinches away when the door is wrenched open. A broad-shouldered man steps into view in a shadowed hallway, hiding anything beyond the tiny space of the closet as he squats down in front of him. There’s a ski mask covering his face, leaving only a pair of cool grey eyes and thin lips visible. He even wears gloves on his hands, leather and black and cold as one hand grips his chin tightly, forcing his head up.

“Smile pretty for your boyfriend,” the man says, his voice deep and mocking as he holds up a phone in his other hand.

Buck tries to pull away, but the hand only grips him tighter as his abductor snaps a series of pictures. He can only imagine how terrible he must look, and the reality of the situation becomes all the more clear. They’re undoubtedly sending signs of life to Tommy, dangling the fact that he’s still alive, because they want something in return. Whether it’s money or something more, it doesn’t really matter. Buck silently hopes that Tommy gives them nothing, even if it means he dies. He has a reputation, and Buck would never forgive himself if Tommy sacrifices that just to save him.

“Good boy.”

The man looks up at him with a smirk, releasing his chin only to ruffle his hair. Buck curses in return, his words muffled by the gag but easy enough to decipher. He’s far from surprised by the blow that knocks him back against the wall. Darkness swallows him up again with a slam of the closet door, and he’s left reeling and blinking through the tears that spring to his eyes with the new pain where the man punched him in the cheek. He’ll be lucky if it’s not broken, not that it’ll matter if this ends the way he suspects it will. The way it has to end.

Don’t do it, he pleads with Tommy, even though he can’t hear him. Don’t you dare give them what they want.

It’s a thought that lingers, and a prayer that goes unheard.

❁❁❁❁❁❁

Time passes, and passes, and passes. Every inch of him hurts from sitting in one position for too long, and his stomach aches with hunger. There’s no sign of anyone else, and he wonders if he’ll die right here, forgotten and starving.

He thinks of Maddie, who doesn’t deserve to lose another of her brothers. He thinks of Jee-Yun, who won’t have any concrete memories of him. He thinks of Bobby, who already buried too many members of his family, and who won’t even have a body to bury this time. He thinks of Athena and May and Harry, who accepted him as Bobby’s shadow all those years ago, and who claim him as family without hesitation.

He thinks of Tommy, who somehow managed to hold onto that big heart of his despite the business he was born into. He wonders if this might just change that, and he tries desperately to believe that it won’t.

Buck is so busy thinking that he misses it at first. The distant chaos. The shouting and the gunshots and door after door crashing open. He lifts his head wearily, almost certain that it must be a trick of a mind that is slipping away. He thinks that he hears his name, but it’s impossible to tell. He’s too tired, and too weak, and too hopeless. He’s all but resigned himself to dying in this endless darkness, and it’s nothing less than a miracle when the door flies open and light washes over him once more. He squeezes his eyes shut as his head throbs viciously after hours on end trapped in the closet.

“Jesus,” a familiar voice rings out, and he can’t possibly convince himself that’s it’s real.

Except there are hands on his face, gentle and callus and oh-so-familiar. He smells cologne that he himself bought, and he silently begs whoever might be listening that this isn’t a trick. The gag is the first thing to go, and he works his jaw against the tight ache as fingers carefully tip his head to the side. Buck can only imagine what he must look like, and he can practically feel the fury that builds with every passing second.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“T’mmy?”

Reality seeps in slowly, and he tips forward to bury his face in a shoulder he recognizes all too easily.

“I’m here, Evan,” he says, his voice tight and restrained. “I got you.”

As if it’s all he needed to hear, to know that he is safe now, his body seems to give up on keeping him conscious and he sinks into a much different, more welcoming kind of darkness.

❁❁❁❁❁❁

The mirror never fails to reveal an unforgiving truth. Buck can only stare at himself as he stands in the harsh light of the bathroom, with nothing but a towel slung around his waist. He takes in the dark bruise on his thankfully unbroken cheek and the shadows that linger in his eyes. He’s back home now, surrounded by all that’s familiar, and there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s lucky to be alive. He’s lucky that Ravi was able to track the pictures they sent, even through the encrypted email. He’s lucky that he was close enough for Tommy and the others to get to him in time.

He’s lucky that the damage isn’t worse.

His eyes drop to the bandages on his wrists, where the ropes left deep burns and cuts, and he wonders if they’ll leave scars. He hopes that won’t happen. This day will haunt them long enough without a physical reminder. Lifting his eyes again, he grows still at the sight of Tommy over his shoulder, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. Buck knows he’s been in there too long, when he was just meant to be washing up. It’s no surprise to him that Tommy sought him out. His face is stone-like, giving away nothing of his thoughts.

That’s not much of a surprise either.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice a hoarse wreck.

 “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Tommy responds.

Buck drops his eyes to the counter, where a pile of soft clothes waits for him. He reaches out and brushes his thumb over the collar of the shirt, realizing that he pulled it from Tommy’s side of the closet without really thinking.

“You warned me that this could happen,” he says quietly, shaking his head. “I didn’t listen.”

“It never would have happened if it wasn’t for me. If you weren’t with me.”

Buck’s eyes snap up to the mirror again, his heart skipping a beat in his chest as his blood runs cold.

“I’m not leaving,” he says quickly, his eyes wide. “You-you can’t–you can’t.”

Panic claws at his chest, soothed only when Tommy closes the distance between them in several long strides. His touch is gentle as he turns Buck away from the mirror, pressing him back against the counter once they’re face to face. The lines on his face seem deeper somehow, as if he grieved a hundred years in a day.

“I should. If I were a stronger man, I would. But you’re right, I can’t. I can’t even think about it because I can’t breathe if I do,” Tommy says, his voice cracked and hurting as his eyes shine with unshed tears. “I couldn’t breathe, Evan. Every fucking second that passed and you weren’t here. And then I got those pictures, and I wanted to tear apart the entire goddamn world. Do you hear me? I would have destroyed everything to find you.”

Buck reaches up, cupping his face in his hands and nodding his head. He feels it too. That cord that’s wrapped around his heart, irrevocably tying him to this man.

“I know, baby. I know.”

Tommy clings to him, drawing him into a fierce kiss. It’s almost bruising in its intensity, and Buck responds every bit as desperately. It doesn’t matter that he aches, or that he’s tired, or that it’s been a long fucking day.

He’s alive, and he’s back with the man he loves.

That’s all that matters.

[redrose10]

This is #1 from the picture game!

Warnings: Depression, talks of cheating, mentions of therapy and taking medication, body insecurities after pregnancy, divorce, swearing, mentions of sex, lots of crying

You nervously bounced your leg as you waited for your new boss to come greet you. It had been several years since you last changed jobs but lately your life had been all out of sorts so you figured why not. You were in the process of a messy divorce from your husband. You had moved into your own apartment. You had decided to go back to school to finish your degree that you had put on hold when your daughter was born.

So it seemed like the perfect choice when you found out that the college you were attending was doing a group hire of about eight different assistants to work with various professors. They didn’t tell you which ones or what departments and you didn’t really care. The pay was surprisingly decent and there were benefits. The hours were good and it also got you some extra credits on top of it.

When you arrived today you were told to head to the literature department. Your soon to be ex husband was a literature professor at a college a few cities over so the sound of that made your mouth sour. Hopefully this professor wasn’t as much of a jerk as your ex you hoped.

It’s funny how life turns out sometimes you thought as you watched your soon to be ex Yoongi walk down the hall to greet you. You cursed yourself for thinking he still looked as good as ever with his black rimmed glasses and his fitted turtleneck sweater.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw you, “Nope, we’re not doing this here Y/N. It’s my first day and I don’t need you embarrassing me.”

“Me embarrass you? I’m not the one who left you sitting alone at a restaurant for two hours on our anniversary while I was “with a friend”.”, you spat.

“Y/N, she was a friend. A very married and very gay friend which you would’ve known had you given me the opportunity to explain before biting my head off.”

“Okay and that doesn’t change the fact that you forgot our anniversary.”, you scoffed.

“Why are you here? Come to take more of my money?”, he said changing the subject.

“Mo-More of your money?! I haven’t taken any of your money. I only want you to provide half for Mae. That’s it. It’s all in the papers or are you too busy with your friend to even read those?”, you questioned.

“How is she by the way?”, he asked immediately softening at the mention of his daughter, “C-Can I see her this weekend?”

You nodded, “Of course Yoongi. You know I’ll never stop you. She misses you.”

Yoongi had always been an amazing father. It was one of the few things that kept you in the marriage for as long as you stayed.

“Why are you here Y/N?”, he asked again.

“I got a job as an assistant to one of the professors. They sent me to this department.”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, “Oh for fucks sake. This can’t be happening.”

“Why are you here?”, you also questioned.

“They offered me a tenured position at this school. And part of that offer included my own assistant.”

“Why didn���t you tell me you changed jobs?”

He scoffed, “I also changed which brand of toothpaste I use. Should I tell you that too?”

You hated how cold and mean he had become towards you. You missed the comforting, warm and welcoming man that you had married.

“The brand of toothpaste you use doesn’t possibly affect our daughter Yoongi. What if something happened to her and I thought you still worked at your old job? I need to know things like this.”

He nodded, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. You didn’t tell me that you got a new job either by the way.”

He was right. You nodded, “I’m sorry. There’s just a lot going on and I was overwhelmed as it is.”

“Do you need more money?”

“What?! No I don’t need more money. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Alright alright. I just wanted to make sure.”, he rolled his eyes

“Well maybe I can ask them to switch my department or something.”, you said.

“No it’s fine. We’re both adults. We need to learn to co-parent anyways so this can be good practice.”

You were skeptical but agreed.

Yoongi’s office was much brighter and warmer than you expected. A large oak desk covered in books and papers. A photo of him holding Mae the day she was born was hanging on the wall. It was the biggest you’d ever seen him smile and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a smile like that on him.

“Since it’s the first day of class I don’t really have much for you to do. Can you please just take all of the papers for the syllabus and put them in order and staple them? That would really help me.”

“Sure.”, you nodded and got to work.

Working for your soon to be ex was easier than you thought. Sure you both argued and took little jabs at each other here and there but for the most part he’d give you a list of things to do for the day and you’d just go about your day doing them. You two were almost being friendly with each other again.

He’d bring you a coffee that they “accidentally” gave him for free and it just happened to be your favorite kind and you’d always happen to bring way too much food for your lunch so you’d offer to share it with him. Things seemed nice for once in a long time.

On a Wednesday afternoon he was at some big faculty meeting. He’d asked you to edit a paper he was working on so you were sat at his desk reading through it.

There was a quick knock at the door before a woman appeared. “Hope you’re hungry Yoongi. I got your favor-Oh! I’m sorry. I was expecting Professor Min to be here.”, she said startled by your presence.

“He’s in a meeting. He should be back shortly.”, you faked politeness.

You also took a notice of her appearance. Something you’d been doing a lot lately anytime you were around another woman. She was definitely younger than you and Yoongi. Long perfectly toned legs, no tummy pouch. She probably had perfect skin without stretch marks. She was gorgeous and everything you felt you weren’t.

She smiled, “You look really familiar.”

“Well I take some classes here so maybe you’ve seen me in one of those.”

“No no that’s not it. I’ve seen you in a photo…Oh! Your Professor Mins wife or soon to be ex wife I should say.”, she chuckled, “He used to have a picture of you on his desk.”

Hearing that he “used to” hurt pretty bad but what could you expect of him at this point honestly.

“I’m sorry how do you know Professor Min? I can take a message and let him know you stopped by.”, you said grabbing a pen.

“He was my Professor over at SNU. We got pretty close there. Then I transferred over here and now he’s here too”, she giggled again, “I guess he missed me too much. Just tell him Mia stopped by. He’ll know.”

“I’ll get right on that.”, you rolled your eyes as she turned and walked away.

After she left you felt a wave of emotions hit you. The realization that your marriage was over and probably had been over much longer for Yoongi than it had been for you making your eyes brim with tears. You started to dig around in Yoongi’s desk looking for some tissues when you saw it. Flipped over and tucked away in the bottom drawer was a picture of you and Yoongi. You were looking up at the camera while he had his arms around your waist and his cheek resting on the top of your head as he smiled. It was taken minutes before he got down on one knee and asked you to spend the rest of your life with him. Now this precious moment that you thought you’d both cherish forever was shoved in the bottom of a desk drawer. That only made you cry harder and you were thankful that you found the tissues.

You had just gotten yourself mostly composed when Yoongi got back from his meeting.

“I’m sorry that took longer than expected. How did the editing go?”

He looked at you. You knew you couldn’t get one by him. He’d always been able to tell when you were crying.

“Y/N what’s wrong?”

“Nothing don’t worry about it?”

“You’re crying. Something happened.”

“Nothing happened. Can you just leave me alone?”, you hissed.

He sighed, “Why do you always push me away? For once can you just stop trying to be tough and tell me what’s wrong.”

“No Yoongi, I can’t stop being tough because I’ve spent so long having to be tough so that you can’t hurt me any more.”

He ran his tongue over his slightly parted lips.

You grabbed your bag and tossed it over your shoulder, “The paper looks good so far. I’m going to get lunch.”

You turned to look at him but he was staring at the ground, “Oh and by the way, Mia stopped by.”

You left letting the door slam behind you.

Yoongi texted you to take a longer lunch than normal. Whether he felt bad for you or didn’t want to deal with you or maybe he had invited Mia to his office and had other plans, you didn’t care. You needed the extra time and were glad to take it.

When you did return back to his office Yoongi was sitting at his desk going over something on his computer. Without a word you walked over and took a seat on the couch pulling out some paperwork that still needed to be reviewed.

“I have never been unfaithful to you Y/N. I know that’s what you’re thinking. I would never do that to you no matter what is going on between us.”

“Then who is she?”, you asked between sobs that came out of nowhere.

“She’s just an over zealous student that I tutored last semester and part of the reason I left SNU. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. I didn’t want to get her expelled and I got a better job offer so I just left. She must’ve heard that I transferred here from someone. I’ll talk to security and let them know not to allow her on campus. I swear to you Y/N there’s absolutely nothing going on between me and her…or anyone else.”

You heard him sigh as he watched you continued to cry.

“How did we get to this point?”, he said running his hands over his face. You had an idea but couldn’t do any more than cry a little harder.

Then he suddenly left his desk and came over next to you on the couch. “I have an idea. Do you trust me?”, he asked.

You only nodded knowing your voice would sound too rough.

“Okay hold this pen.”, he said taking one out of his suit pocket and gently placing it in your hands, “Whoever has this pen gets to speak their mind and say anything that they want to and the other person can’t interrupt or speak until they have the pen. I think we need to sit down and talk about things like adults, without our emotions causing us to act out.”

You stared at the pen for a moment then you looked at Yoongi. He was silent but you could see it in his eyes that he was scared.

After taking a minute to compose yourself you took another look at him before speaking.

“For me it started a few months after Mae was born. I hated my new body, the way I looked. I mean I was proud of what I had done and I wouldn’t have changed anything but it was hard Yoongi. I gained weight, I have a little belly pouch and stretch marks, my boobs are saggy and uneven. I felt so gross and unattractive.

And then I noticed you were getting distant. You didn’t touch me as much, you stopped trying to get little peaks of me changing or getting out of the shower. We’ve had sex like twice since Mae was born and both times I could tell you weren’t really into it. I thought you weren’t attracted to me any more either.”

You paused to take a look at him. He was delicately looking at you, biting his lip. You knew he was trying his hardest not to interrupt you.

So you continued, “Then one day I thought I’d surprise you. I bought a new lingerie set and dropped Mae off at my parents. I showered and shaved and moisturized like it was going to fix everything. I added a little of the perfume you always liked and then when I knew you were laying on the bed I walked out of the bathroom. I dropped my robe and said your name in the most sultry way I could. And..and you didn’t even look at me Yoongi.”, your voice cracked. It was harder to talk about this than you had thought but you composed yourself again, “And I wish I would’ve just turned around and went back into the bathroom because when you finally did look at me you didn’t react. You didn’t tell me I looked good, you didnt pull me towards the bed like you used to, you didn’t even smile. You just stared at me like you were disgusted. Yoongi do you know how much that hurt me? What that did to my confidence?To realize that I couldn’t even get your attention after putting in that much effort. I felt like an idiot. I wanted to talk then but you said you had to make a phone call and left the room. So I changed back into my pajamas and went to bed.”

You clicked the pen a few times trying to ground yourself. Yoongi was still patiently sitting next to you.

“Then our anniversary came up. I wanted to give us one more chance. I got a new dress that I felt really good in. Booked a reservation at your favorite restaurant. I reminded you that morning. And you didn’t show up. Yoongi I sat there for two hours…two hours like an idiot waiting on the love of my life for nothing. You texted me that you were out with someone else so I figured you’d already found someone you were more attracted to and accepted it. I paid for my drinks and went home. The next day I called the divorce lawyer. And…and here we are.”

Once you had finished you had to admit it felt pretty good getting all of that off your chest. It was all things that you had said to him in your head many times but never had the guts to say to him in person.

When you realized he still hadn’t said anything you took the pen and placed it in his hands. The rough callouses giving you goosebumps.

Yoongi took a deep breath to prepare himself for his turn.

“Y/N, I am so incredibly sorry that I ever made you doubt yourself. From the minute I saw you I thought you were the most beautiful being ever and that has never changed. If anything you’ve only gotten more attractive to me. The thing is…is that I’m depressed. I have been for a while. It started just before Mae was born and got worse afterwards. I should’ve told you but I was embarrassed and I felt guilty. I mean I’m married to the woman I love more than anything and we have a beautiful little girl who’s healthy and happy and I have a great job that I love so I felt like I had no reason to be depressed and I was angry with myself for feeling that way. And then…”

He took another long deep breath, “And then after Mae was born I knew I had to get better for both of you. So I saw a psychiatrist and was put on depression medication and started seeing a therapist too. And it was helping. I started feeling better. But the medication, it…it has certain side effects. So while any time my eyes and brain saw you they wanted one thing, the rest of my body didn’t want to cooperate.”

He looked at you apprehensively to see if you were understanding where he was going with that and you did so you gave him a little nod.

“That night I knew you had something planned. I accidentally saw the bag from the lingerie store in the closet and then Mae was gone and you were taking an extra long time in the shower. I put it all together and I knew you wanted to have sex and I panicked. I started thinking about anything I could to try and force it to happen. That camping trip in the woods, our wedding night, that night Mae was conceived.”, he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows making you giggle for the first time in what felt like forever, “But none of it was working. And then I looked at you. I stared because I wanted to burn that image into my brain forever. You looked so gorgeous, sexy, incredible. I felt like the luckiest man alive. And then I realized that I was just going to disappoint you and make you feel insecure because I knew you’d think it was because of you. So I panicked again and left to go call my therapist. Looking back I should’ve just told you everything from the start.”

He adjusted himself on the couch to get comfortable again before going on, “And then I knew our anniversary was coming up so I stopped taking my medication for a little. I wanted to be able to make it up to you and show you how much I loved you and make you feel as incredible as you make me feel. I thought I’d be okay but it’s like the depression hit me harder than before. I was worried and called my therapist so she gave me an emergency appointment. I’m so sorry Y/N. We were talking through things and it took longer than I thought and then I had to get my prescription refilled and by the time it was over you had already left the restaurant. I knew when I got home that you were going to call the lawyer. I didn’t blame you so I didnt try to stop you.”

He stopped to remove his glasses and wipe away some tears. In all the years you’ve known him you’ve only ever seen him cry twice before. Once when his grandmother had passed away and the day Mae was born. To see him sit here in front of you and cry as if he had nothing else to loose really pulled at your heart strings.

You went to speak but realized he still had the pen. It appeared he wasn’t done anyways because he grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight, “I’m sorry I failed you not only as a lover but also as a husband and a friend. I never meant to make you feel that way. Just know that when this is all over and you’re no longer tied to me that no one will ever love you as deeply and as strongly as I always will. I will always be here for you and Mae. No matter what. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you so many times. I wish I could take it all back and take on the hurt instead.”

Through your own blurry vision you looked over his tear stained cheeks and red nose before taking the pen in his hand and tossing it aside. Tightly you wrapped your arms around his neck and connected your lips to his, “I’m sorry too Yoongi. I should’ve just talked to you and let you know how I felt instead of being stubborn and expecting you to fix it. I’m sorry you’ve been struggling so much and I wish you would’ve told me. I want to take the pain from you. I love you so much and I don’t want to get divorced. I just wanted you to hurt too just like I was but I didn’t know you were already hurting so badly in other ways. But I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

By this point you were ugly crying and didn’t even care. You were sure you looked like a red, snot covered mess but when you actually took the time to look at Yoongi you could see the love he had for you even in that moment.

“It’s okay Y/N…Everything will be okay, everything will be okay, everything will be okay…”, he repeated a few more times while stroking your hair until you had finally started to calm down a little.

“So what do we do now?”, you sniffled.

“Well we can take it slow if you want. We have to think about Mae in all of this too and we don’t want to confuse her. Maybe slowly start moving back home and spending more and more time together as a family. And uh maybe you could come to one of my therapy sessions with me, if you want to. I know she’d love to meet you and we can talk there and go over anything else we need too. And when you’re ready we can meet with the lawyer again and take care of that.”

You smiled, “Okay that sounds nice.”

You leaned into him resting your head on his shoulder while you played with his fingers. Just from the pinkness of his hands you could tell he was blushing.

“Umm and maybe you could come over one day and you could bring that lingerie set with you and maybe…maybe we could try.”, he said nervously rubbing his hand over the back of his neck.

Gently you stopped him taking his hand in yours, “Of course we can try. I know it may not happen but we’ll work through it together.”

He breathed a sigh of relief before pulling you over for a kiss, “I love you Mrs. Min Yoongi.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

And surprise…Here is a bonus little smutty side story that goes with it. I wrote it as a separate story because I don’t usually include smut in my writings and I didn’t want to blindside anyone that may like reading what I post but isn’t comfortable reading smut. This way you can just read this main fic or you can read both if you’d like.

I’m not going to become a smut account or anything. I’ve just had a similar idea for a while and I felt like it fit this situation. I’ve been really nervous to post it but wanted to try it out.

[a-simple-imagine]

Tear apart the heart

synopsis: you just watched your girlfriend die right in front of you

pairing: victoria neuman x reader

words: 1k+

WARNINGS - themes of grief, blood, death, mention of body pieces

she promised you the world and instead, you got the most disgusting makeshift lab you ever had the displeasure of stepping inside. but it really didn't matter anymore.

that heavy feeling in your chest is brand spanking new. you search your brain for a comparison but it's like nothing you've ever felt before. it's almost suffocating. blocking off the one thing keeping you alive right now. air. gross, dingy air that was so polluted with chemicals and old take out, it almost knocked you sick but now a hint of copper joined this mix. an unwelcome change. a tickle against your cheek. you reach up to remove the tear. only it is red as it slips from the tip of your finger down your hand and to your wrist. you wanted to believe it was fake even as it trickled down your forearm. so desperate for none of this to be real. but deep down you know it is. it's blood. her blood. and maybe the droplets that adorn your skin should have been actually tears but they just never came. did that make youan evil person? undoubtedly. everyone cries when someone dies. it's like the first thing that's expected. but you just couldn't. what you felt inside wasn't sadness per se. or maybe it was. you couldn't tell. it didn't feel like when you were normally about to cry. this felt all-consuming. you felt rigid in this moment. unable to process anything. This wasn't ordinary. most people didn't watch the person they loved get ripped in two. weren’t drenched in tiny pieces of their girlfriend. it felt comical in a way. perhaps that was why you were having such a hard time acknowledging it. people don't just get ripped in half. this wasn't a comic book or some mid-budget horror film which gaineda startling cult following because they used practical effects instead of CGI for the gore but they didn't overdo it with the gore either. it was tasteful. no. this wasn't tasteful. you don't know what this is. you can hardly even look at her. you want to go back. dear god. you shouldn't have given in so easily.

"did you order the food?" you question, glancing up from her laptop that you had been playing on.

"What?" a brief blank expression that settles into a gentle smile. the kind of smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "no. sorry."

"Can I order something?" a silent nod puts you to work and decides what to have. "who were you talking to then- on the phone?"

"Hughie,"

the name alone forms a pit in your stomach. you used to think so fondly of him. you'd met him a great many times but that was before. "you can't be serious,"

"Just hear me out"

"no, Victoria- that man has tried to kill you multiple times," you express. "what could you possibly want from him?"

"out," a simple word. She cares not to elaborate as she walks closer to the kitchen aisle. taking her laptop, she spins it around to face her. "so what are we eating?"

"what do you mean out?"

she shrugs. "I want out. out of everything. I just- I can't do this anymore."

your heart beats a little faster. out of everything? out of this? that wouldn't explain the conversation with Hughie. although they used to be close friends. "what?"

"he's gonna help me get out of this mess," she expresses. "I think I wanted this for a while. like genuinely wanted it not just because of what was happening around me or stan or whatever. but now it's just not something that makes any sense."

"Vic,"

"It's pathetic really but I'm just never gonna be more than a puppet. and that's not what I want- I don't wanna be under anyone's control, y'know?"

"Sure," a lopsided smile with a hint of shrug. you didn't get it. felt like a few pieces of the puzzle were missing. a small sigh leaves her painted lips as she walks over to you. your eyes trail after her until you're staring into all too familiar eyes. usually so steely but today they possess a flicker of something different.

"Hughie is gonna help me get out. if I do this- if I help them bring down homelander then I just get to live my life away from all the bullshit. I realised all I want now is to be with Zoe. and with you too."

"Are we just skipping the part where he and his friends tried to murder you? how can we trust them?" you wonder what she can see in your eyes. the fear of what's to come. the joy of knowing she was willing to give up everything to be with you? That was a crazy thought. a crazy thing to admit. Victoria was gentle with you and loving but this felt like a different level of vulnerability. one you never saw from her.

"I'm not asking you to trust them," she holds your gaze, firm and pleading. "I'm asking you to trust me."

she had never steered you so wrong before. on shaky legs, you push yourself up off the dusty floor. brushing yourself off; little did it help. your heart races with your decision as 5 people - mostly strangers- surround you. you weren't a supe. you had no means to protect yourself here. they don't seem like they're gonna kill you as you turn around to find Hughie amongst them. he was covered in blood too. your girlfriend's blood. it was almost strange how fitting it was. That pit that once formed was now a silent rage as you stared at him. the man who Victoria trusted enough to come here. the man who promised her protection. the man who leads her to her death. he just stares back. a look of sympathy perhaps- no, pity. you take a deep breath and turn away in search of the other person you arrived with. zoe lies unconscious off to one side. at least you hope she's just unconscious. or maybe you didn't? what was a worse experience for her? you slowly make your way over to her. nobody stops you. nobody makes a move. you know you can't carry her so you just sit down beside her. a gentle hand on her side. you don't want her to be alone when she finds out her mother is dead.

[fandomnerd9602]

Cold Outside

StepSister!Wanda x Reader

For @lifespectator and @aloneodi

You and your stepsister Wanda had been up to your own brand of mischief. Ever since your first kiss with her on New Years Eve, it’s like the two of you could not get enough of each other. You always found little excuses to see one another and share kisses where no one could see you. Wanda and you were scared of what your parents would think of such a relationship.

But that didn’t stop you and her from having ‘cram sessions’ over at your apartment. Yes you and her did study for exams and homework. But afterward the two of you would celebrate with pizza, a marathon of her favorite shows and a little make out session. It was the perfect cover.

A perfect cover until it happened.

Your college town was hit with the worst blizzard of the year. Your classes were cancelled but somehow Wanda's were still on.

You tried to keep your apartment warm when you got a call from your stepsister, "detka?"

"what's the matter, Wanda?"

"the heater in my apartment broke. C-Can I come stay over at your place?"

“What about your roommate? yelena?”

“She’s hanging out with Kate. So can you please pick me up, detka?”

"Of course! I'll come pick you up." You grabbed your keys and ran to your car.

The wind was howling and the snow fall nearly blinded your view but yet you persisted on being there when Wanda stepped out from the college commons area.

You pull up outside of the commons and Wanda runs out from under the porch right to your car. The scarlet red scarf you bought her blowing in the wind. She quickly jumps in and blows into her hands, just trying to keep herself warm.

“Hello detka” she smiles at you.

“Hey you” you smile back, “let’s go home.”

It didn’t take long for you and Wanda to get home. You spent the time talking about whatever you wanted as you drove home.

You and Wanda truly enjoy spending whatever time you can together. Little moments here and there.

You turn on your television and switch it to your queue of Dick Van Dyke episodes. Wanda continues to enjoy her freshly brewed tea as you take a seat next to her.

“No better way to rough it through a blizzard, huh?” You give a little smirk to your stepsister.

“What are we?” She asks.

“What do you mean?” You genuinely ask.

“I-I mean…where do you see us?”

You gently take her free hand, “Wanda…there will never be another. You’re it. I’m totally in love with you. I-I want strings with you”

Your thumb glides across her knuckles.

“I want strings with you too” she giggles. “I want to tell everyone about us, but only when you’re ready.”

“When you’re ready,” you reassure her. She stares at you with adoring eyes. Her gazes lowers to your lips and then back to your eyes.

You pull her into your lap. Wanda giggles and leans in, kissing you. Her tongue glides across your lips, you can’t help but allow her access.

“Detka” she whispers against your lips.

You and Wanda continue to share long, loving, passionate kisses on your couch; lost in your own little world. Wanda giggles against your lips. Your hands wander up and down her spine.

So strong was the temptation to reach under her shirt but you truly loved her. You were willing to take things slow and enjoy all the little memories you have to form with the amazing young woman in your arms.

Your little moment of heaven was interrupted by the sound of Wanda’s cell phone. She let out a quick little squeak of embarrassment before rolling off your lap and grabbing her phone. The caller ID on her phone read Papa. You and her went pale white.

Wanda takes a deep breath, wanting to calm the beating of her heart from her moment of ecstasy. She answers the phone, “hello Papa” she puts it in speaker mode.

“Hello my little witch, I just wanted to be sure you were alright.” Your stepfather tries to explain. “That blizzard is something fierce.”

“I’m alright” Wanda giggles, “I’m at Y/N’s. My apartment’s heater went out.”

“Hey Pops” you call out.

“You all okay?” Your stepfather asks back.

“Y-yeah” you try to answer. “I was about to put a pizza in the oven and turn on some Dick Van Dyke.”

“Okay” Django answers back. “According to the weather channel, the blizzard won’t clear up for two days”

You and Wanda look to each other, you can already see the ideas forming in Wanda’s head.

“Think you’ll be alright?” Your stepfather asks.

“Yes Papa,” Wanda answers, “I think we’ll be alright. We’ve got homework and tv and…”

“Okay. Love you both” Django answers before hanging up.

You and your detka look at one another. You can’t help but share a laugh. She collapses against your chest.

“You hungry?” You ask her playfully as you wrap her in a hug.

“Yes. For pizza…and you” she giggles at her own response. You give her one last kiss to her lips and one more to her forehead.

It sure is cold outside but it’s nice and warm in your little apartment. You will have to tell her father and your mother eventually but until then you’re just gonna enjoy your time together. You and the love of your life: Wanda Maximoff.

[everlastingday]

rewatching the episode instead of working like a good employee and i think my favourite thing about the loft scene is actually how it is such a clear depiction of how different the strand vs reyes family dynamics are, and how different tk and carlos's individual relationships with their families are. and how even in a relationship, in a marriage, they are two distinct people.

on rewatch, it seems more clear to me that for tk, the question of taking jonah in isn't even a real question. we've seen the strands (i'm also including gwyn in this) drop everything, no questions asked, for their family members. it's the way gwyn packed up her life in new york to go live with her ex-husband and son after her son was shot (but already well on his way to recovery). it's the way owen, probably living in a new york apartment that is not big enough for two, forced tk to live with him after his relapse. it's the way owen dragged tk out to austin, even if it means that tk might resent him for it. it's the way owen, despite his ego, agreed to raise gwyn's unborn child as his own even though she never asked that of him. it's the way owen agreed to help his half-brother end his life after only having met him a handful of times.

for tk and his family, being ride or die for your family literally means that, and it doesn't require being asked to do it. it's just something you do, because that's family. so to me, it does make sense for tk to have assumed that carlos was on board. now i'm not saying it was right, or fair to carlos, but it makes sense for his character i think. and i think that for tk, it might not necessarily link back to their discussion about kids in 4x12, because this isn't about him wanting to be a dad. i'm not even entirely sure tk thinks of jonah as a brother-son yet. to him, that's just his little brother and he will do anything for him, even if that means upheaving his entire life.

so when carlos questions why he would think of taking jonah in when enzo didn't ask him to, i think there's a bit of an unspoken, "well why does he have to ask?", because that's how his family operates.

the reyes family just doesn't seem to operate that way, from what little we know of them. they LOVE each other, that's for sure. they have their weekly lunches, andrea is literally the most wonderful, loving mother, and gabriel might seem strict but he's actually a big ol' teddy bear that would do anything for his kids. but you can get the sense that carlos and his family love each other in a different way. he doesn't want to impose on them, or make their life more difficult than it has to be, because he loves them so much. the fact that he doesn't even think of his family to help with childcare is very telling of this - he doesn't not think of them because he's not close with them, but because he is.

i think carlos is 100% justified in being so critical and he absolutely is right to have expected tk to come to him first, but i also think that tk's desperation and defensiveness is so understandable and very on brand. and to be clear, there's no one right way to love your family. i think maybe that's also why i really loved this scene because i think it just highlighted how tk and carlos love in different ways, and it's directly a result of the way they were raised.