#every time i hear it i want to stab myself

[messrsrarchives]

last sunday i was feeling very melancholic and had spent the night on call with my nan for hourssss talking about my transition. she stayed up with me for hours, we spoke about everything from my childhood signs, to my discovery, to my exploration and starting hormones etc etc, we spoke about everything.

but really it felt a bit like a funeral, that's how she described it. she said it felt like a eulogy of what it could have been because that entire phone call started with me saying i need to Stop. she got a random message from me asking if she'd be by my side if i detransitioned, so she called me and we spoke about so many things i hadn't told her before - all of the harrassments, the comments, the friendships that ended that i've pretended haven't for years. literally everything from the stabbing attempt last year to the friend that blocked me when i posted about my first day on T.

literally my entire life in this one phone call and she ended it with "just give it one more day". there's a small dent in the wall from my phone now because,,, what an infuriating reply, right? one more day. one more day??? no, i need to make a choice now? i'm so tired of waiting for things to make sense, i did that for years and then it Did and then it all fell to pieces because even One More Day is one more than they want me to have.

and then the next afternoon i set off to go to my seminar, and i'm walking along listening to a voice note i recorded over and over and over. one to be sent to my friends so that i don't have to type it. one that said it will take a while until i look like "myself" again, and i know this makes no sense to them and i'm glad it doesn't, but that they need to stop calling me robyn. a voice note, because it's easier to say my deadname than to see it written down. i don't know, it feels more official in letters. like maybe if i hear it enough it will blend in with every other sound. and i'm listening to this over and over in the hopes that i can build up the courage to send it.

and i step onto the bridge towards class, not looking where i'm going and i walk straightttt into someone and i'm all apologetic and i'm crying from the voice note and i'm a wreck but i walked into someone else who was typing on their phone

and there's a lil trans sticker on the back of it. and i've never seen this person before ever but they adjusted my tote bag on my shoulder because i was still apologising profusely and i said "i'm sorry" and they said "me too"

and i know we were talking about the crash. i know it's not what they meant because that's not what we were talking about but. idk. it's dumb and there's probably something poetic about us stepping onto the bridge at the same time and managing to bump right into each other but all i know is that they had a trans flag sticker on their phone and they smiled and they said "me too" and,,, idk. rambling.

but sometimes it really is just one more day. that's all you need sometimes. and sometimes you have to tell yourself that everyday, and that's okay. because other times you'll literally and physically bump into another trans person and they'll say "me too" for something entirely unrelated, but it makes you feel a little less alone regardless.

anyway, i'm saved in their phone as Robyn now and i think that's pretty cool actually, we're getting lunch together soon

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Cold Jealousy

I am back once again with more Silco brain rot. Feeding all of you who need the content as well as myself.

Summary: Who knew jealousy was all it took for to have your first kiss with Silco?

He hates the coiling in his stomach that arises whenever you laugh at something a patron says. It sickens him, seeing you lean in so close to another man, your lips moving as you say something and then smile, causing the table to burst into laughter. He knows you're simply close friends with them, after all they are your childhood friends, people who grew up with you, so of course you'd act overly familiar with them but he can't stop his chest from tightening, his fingers twitching.

The nib of his pen pierces through the page he was writing on and he scowls angrily at the mess, trying to drown out your voice but it's intoxicating, a melody that snatches his attention away from the numbers in his notebook. Your laughter is like a drug, leaving him wanting more every time he hears it, and the thought that it's someone else eliciting it drives him insane.

"You alright there?" Vander slides him a glass of scotch, worry clear gentle grey eyes.

"I'm fine," Silco spits back, a little harsher than intended. Of course Vander would notice something was off, Vander knew him way too well. He turns back to his notebook, trying to suppress the whispers that begin to cloud his mind and stares at the numbers, willing them into his brain.

"You know they only have eyes for you right? They don't look at anyone the same way they look at you." Vander glances over at the table where you're currently playing a game of cards, and from the looks of it, losing.

"I know," Silco scowls, stabbing the page with his pen. Vander simply huffs and turns to attend to the customer who just pulled up at the counter. Silco rolls his eyes and closes the notebook, he's done for the night. There's no way he can continue concentrating when you laugh like that, when butterflies flutter in his chest and turn to stone as he remembers you're not laughing at something he said or did.

"I'm going to get some air," he grunts, slipping out the back door.

Out of habit, he makes his way to the rooftop, sitting at his usual spot and looks out at the sprawling underground city beneath. Neon lights flash from various stores like stars, illuminating figures as people walk past but the silhouettes disappear just as quickly, fading back into obscurity. It's the same pattern every night, he's memorised some of the figures already, knows the habits of certain individuals, and has noted the important ones. He spots the lady with twin brown hair buns who frequents the brothel opposite, the two enforcers who always sneak into the nearby drug store during their nightly patrol and nearly misses the sound of your footsteps.

"Hey." You take your seat next to him.

"Y/N." He barely spares you a glance before looking back at the city below. The night wind whistles through the air, sending shivers through his body and he curls up, hugging his knees to his chest. Dammit, he forgot his coat. The air here is chillier at this time of the year, being so far away from the hustle and bustle of the city's nightlife, but it brings a sense of peace that he treasures, especially when it's with you. Tonight, it just feels cold, probably from his lack of a coat, but there's a numbness he can't explain.

The clink of glass snaps him out of his thoughts and he glances up to see you produce a bottle of wine as well as two glasses.

"Sorry, I couldn't swipe a bottle of scotch so I grabbed the next best thing before anyone could catch me," you smile at him and pop the bottle open. The red liquid sloshes in the glass as you fill it up and hand it to him, "peace offering?"

He wrinkles his nose but takes the glass anyways, mumbling a thank you before letting the liquid slide down his throat. It doesn't have the same burn as scotch does, but there's still a pool of warmth that sits in his belly, although it does little to alleviate the chill he feels.

You smile and pour a glass for yourself, taking a sip, following the direction of his eyes. Silco swirls the red liquid around in his glass, biting his lip. The silence is awkward, but he won't be the first to break it, his pride won't let him. Fortunately, you shift closer to him and shrug your jacket off, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Don't catch a cold on me."

He snorts in response, tugging your jacket tighter around himself. It smells nice, smells like you with a hint of his cigar's smoke. He can pick out the scent of wine, the smell of the soap you use to wash the jacket, the remnants of Piltover's smell from your afternoon stint and a small smile makes its way onto his face as he remembers the way you threw yourself at him, clutching a bag of freshly baked bread, laughing as you yelled at him to run for his life. The pool of warmth resting in his belly spreads to the rest of his body, sending tingles up his spine as he buries his face into the jacket's fabric. The fabric is worn but still maintains a certain level of softness, and it feels as nice as it smells.

He watches as you finish your glass and exchange it for the bottle, remembering his own unfinished glass and takes another sip. Scotch was still the best drink, a shame you didn't manage to filch a bottle of it. You down half the bottle in one go, sighing in satisfaction and gesture at his glass.

"You don't have to force yourself to finish it, you know?"

He scowls, and finishes the rest of his wine, all the while staring right at you. "As if I'll let you have any of mine."

You laugh, and he finds that your laughter sounds better when it's because of something he said than when it's because of something someone else said, besides, there's the added bonus of giddiness that fills him. He smiles, for the first time tonight and sets the glass down next to yours. The awkwardness has been broken, much to his relief and he feels as though he can breathe easier.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" You gesture towards the myriad of lights. "Piltover's lights can't compare to this."

"That's because most of their lights are the same colour," he snorts, "but yes…it is beautiful."

You beam, taking another swig from the bottle and set the bottle down, leaning back on your hands. The night breeze ruffles through your hair, playing with its strands and Silco watches as a couple of strands fall between your eyes, causing you to huff and puff at it until it falls off your face. The next gust of wind is stronger and you shiver, shifting closer to him. He shakes his head and throws the left half of your jacket over your shoulders so it covers the both of you.

"Don't you catch a cold on me either."

"Thank you for sharing my jacket." You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. He nudges you back, the back and forth going on for a while until the jacket slips off your shoulder and he leans over to pull it back on. Electricity crackles from where his skin brushes against yours and he feels his heart leap into his throat when he looks up at you, realising how close the two of you are.

Sure, the both of you know how the other feels, knows the unspoken truth but continue to dance around each other, fearful of what acknowledging the feeling would bring, but tonight just feels right. He feels your hand intertwine with his and he leans in, throat bobbing as he swallows hard. You lean in as well and your lips meet for the first time.

The feeling is addicting, Silco quickly learns. The way your lips lock with his perfectly, the way you lean in as his fingers run through your hair, the way your free arm wraps around his waist, pulling him closer, all of this makes him wish this moment will never end. Unfortunately, the both of you need to breathe and so he reluctantly parts from you, pressing his forehead against yours. It feels natural, to feel your warmth, to hold you underneath your jacket, and from the way you're looking at him with such adoration in your eyes, you feel the same way.

It doesn't need to be said, nothing needs to be said, the only thing he needs to do is close the gap once more and taste the wine on your lips, savouring the sweetness of it all. This is the one time he will admit that wine tastes good, but he still prefers scotch.

Your hand gently cups his cheek and he finds himself leaning into the touch. Your thumb runs over his skin, brushing along his cheekbone and he sighs, surrendering to your warmth. A small smile graces your lips and he can't help but smile back, although his smile is rather lazy.

"We should head back before Vander has to come and haul us away," you murmur and Silco reluctantly extracts himself from your touch.

"And before he closes the bar up so that we don't have to wash the glasses." He picks said glasses up, nudging the empty bottle towards you. "You are still going to throw the bottle away, I'm not touching that."

"Why? You were so eager to touch my saliva just moments ago," you tease, mirth decorating your features.

"I'm not about to deny you your responsibilities." He ducks out of the way as you try to shove the empty bottle into his arms, quickly making his way back into the bar before you can succeed in making your problem his. He hears your annoyed shouts behind him and laughs, sliding into the bar's counter.

Vander raises an eyebrow as Silco places the glasses in the sink and darts off, then shakes his head as you come barreling in, demanding that Silco help you as payment for the wine he drank. He grabs the both of you by your collars and drops you both at the sink. "I believe washing everything in the sink will suffice as payment for the bottle of wine."

You groan when you see the amount of empty cups in the sink and Silco laughs, turning on the water tap. At least you're trapped in this with him, the washing should go by faster.

As the both of you hunch over the sink, you give him a little nudge with your elbow. "Next time, if you're jealous, just step in. I'll leave with you, I promise."

"Jealous?" He splutters. "I wasn't jealous!"

"Sure you weren't, Mr 'angrily stabs an innocent piece of paper with his pen'. Keep trying."

He huffs, turning his attention back to the glass he's currently wiping dry. "I wasn't jealous."

"Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that. I doubt that changes facts though."

"Nobody said that was a fact."

You lightly punch him in the shoulder with your damp fist and he mock glares at you, smacking your arm with the drying cloth but can't stop the smile that's forming on his face.

"Don't ever doubt yourself," you say softly. "You mean everything to me."

And you mean everything to me too.

[sahisan]

★ summary: arlecchino nsfw hcs since her banner is almost out.

☆ cw: nsfw. wlw (fem terms like cunt and pussy used). choking. dirty talk. cunnilingus. strap-on. a bit of belly bulge. arle's hands appreciation.

☾ a/n: this is a repost of the same work bc the first one didn't get any attention at all. also, this is like, the most smut i could write for now so yeah.

— arlecchino loves loves loves holding eye contact with you during sex, especially if it's missionary. her stare is intense, like she'll stab your heart right here and now, but she knows you're only getting more turned on by it. even if it's doggy, she'd bend your back and press it to her chest and she would make you look into her eyes while fucking her strap up into you. her other hand would also slide to your lower belly to feel the bulge of the strap in it.

“don't take your eyes off me. look away once and you aren't cumming tonight.”

— arlecchino knows damn well you get off from just looking at her hands. and she also knows that you love having her hands wrapped around that pretty little neck of yours, so she uses this knowledge every single time. every time she begins with foreplay, her hand sneaks its way to your neck, squeezing it experimentally until she feels your knees weaken or hears a choked whimper leaving your mouth. arlecchino just knows that simply using her hands would be enough to make you cum over three times already.

“you have a very nice neck there, you know. i'm sure that if i'd squeeze a little bit harder, it'd make you squeal nice and loud.”

— is a master at dirty talk, prove me wrong. arle uses her hands and mouth just perfectly. always the low voice, whispering some very hot and dirty things right in your ear. when she's in the mood, she may even use some pet names to flatter you. but usually, she doesn't use anything other than 'dear', 'darling' and 'princess' — the last one is used especially a lot when she wants to pamper you like the princess you are.

“let me guess... you were having so many wet dreams about this, were you not? daydreaming about this for days on end. i bet that now this cunt is soaked already.”

and then:

“what's wrong, dear? cat got your tongue, hm?”

— when arlecchino comes back from work either overworked or mad, she knows she doesn't even have to explain herself to you as she buries her face into your cunt the moment she sees you. i wouldn't call it "taking her stress out on you" though, i think she does it more to calm herself. she eats you out like she's been starving for days even if she did it just yesterday. holding your hips down so you will stop squirming so much after she just gave you your third orgasm. you're becoming too sensitive, but arle doesn't look like she gives a damn, because she knows that if she was hurting you, you'd already say the safe word that you two have.

“shut up and take it. you know i can't help myself."

[nereidprinc3ss]

hii! could i request something w spence where he asks uni reader to move in with him and r is kinda nervous about it please🙏🙏 love all of ur fics, and thanksss 🫶🫶🫶

yass this is super cute!!!! thank you for the request, hope i did it justice

warnings/tags: fluff!! a teensy bit suggestive at the end if u squint... i cant help myself. i'm an animal

requests are open! sfw and nsfw welcome

(a/n: this is probably an awkward spot to put this but I didn't wanna make a whole other post: THANK YOU GUYS FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT!!! i have gained over 100 followers since i last posted and have over 1k notes on both of my recent works thats literally bonkers insane crazy town ACTUALLY. i love hearing your thoughts and reactions to my work even if its just a silly little comment. so yeah. thanks and so much love to u ALL)

“So basically, I’m not allowed in the dorm except to sleep because she always has her boyfriend over, and I told her that’s literally insane—I’m paying thousands of dollars to be there just like her. If she wanted privacy she should have gotten a single. She can’t just lock me out of our shared bedroom all the time! I live there!” 

You’re stabbing violently at your food by the time you finish your verbal tirade. 

“Okay, maybe put the knife down before you hurt yourself,” Spencer suggests, readying a hand to take the implement away from you if necessary. The knife clatters against your plate as you drop it. 

“She’s driving me fucking crazy,” you mumble, rubbing your eyes until you see fireworks. ���And the housing department said I don’t have grounds to transfer rooms, so I’m stuck with her for the rest of the year.” 

There’s no reply from your boyfriend, and a pang of guilt in your chest makes you look up at him again. His expression, as so often is the case, is inscrutable. 

“I’m sorry for ranting. I’m really happy to see you and I don’t mean to ruin dinner, I just—” 

“You could stay with me,” he interrupts. 

You blink. 

“Like... when she locks me out?” 

Spencer laughs self-consciously. 

“No, like... permanently.” 

For a moment you just gape at him like an idiot, trying to comprehend his offer. 

He wants you to move in... with him. Permanently. He wants to live with you. 

You realize you’ve been staring at him for far too long, and you lean back, inhaling deeply as the world launches into motion again. 

“That’s... a big step, Spence,” you breathe. His eyes scan you head to toe, and you realize he’s most definitely analyzing your body language. 

“You don’t have to say yes. It was just an offer,” he shrugs, standing up and clearing the plates from the table.  

“Wait,” you call, following him to the kitchen. “Are you upset now because I leaned away from you when you asked?” 

He turns from the counter, looking at you blankly. 

“Of course not. That would be ridiculous.” 

Oh, he totally is. 

You tentatively step forward, gently lacing your fingers through his—but unable to meet his eyes.  

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you begin gingerly, “but I’m... I’m not done with school. We always said I would move in once I graduated.” 

“That’s an arbitrary limitation we set for ourselves. There are plenty of ways to get you from here to campus every day.” 

“But you’re not even here sometimes. I would just be alone.” 

“You would have the whole apartment to yourself. You would have my bed. You wouldn’t have to share a shower with an entire floor of college students anymore. And ultimately, we would get to spend a lot more time together.” 

You try to speak but find your throat is tight. Spending more time together is exactly what you’re afraid of. 

“What’s your real objection here?” he asks quietly, running his thumb back and forth over the underside of your wrist. You swallow, watching the motion of his hand.  

“I’m afraid, that if we move in together... you’ll stop liking me.” The words come out paper thin, barely audible. 

And he laughs. Your teary eyes dart up, surprised by the reaction—slightly hurt, even. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m not laughing at you,” Spencer says, sobering up when he sees your baleful expression. “I just can’t believe you think I’d stop liking you.” He wipes away the tears beading on your eyelashes delicately. “I’m in love with you. Neurologically that is pretty hard to undo.” 

You study his face, looking for any sign of hesitation or dishonesty. All you find is pure fondness in the curve of his lips; utter devotion in the soft set of his eyes. 

“You promise you won’t start hating me as soon as I move in?” 

“I promise.” 

You lean against his chest, craning your neck to look up at him. 

“I can be pretty annoying.” 

“I think I can handle it.” 

“I take really long showers.”  

He kisses you softly. “Me too. I’m sure we can figure out a way to conserve water.” 

Despite your reservations you smile against his lips. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

“Okay.” 

[gotta-winwin]

𓆩🖤𓆪 ... falling in love through songs pt.1 - teaser

⭐ starring: vernon

💬 preview: you really wished someone would've told you that the rockstar you'd be photographing for on his tour was Hansol from school. Yes, that Hansol. Your ex-boyfriend Hansol.

tw/cw: rockstar!vernon x photographer!reader, second chance romance, exes to lovers, sworn enemies to lovers, forced proximity, a cheeky joshua, lots of banter full tw will be posted with the full fic

🪽fic rating/teaser rating: pg/16+

🪽tentative release date: jan 20

☁️ masterlist & a/n: here i am once again with a vernon fic, but this time to kick off our 500 followers event! this one is based on the song heart out by the 1975, one especially close to my own heart.

this is a part of my 500 followers event

“Hear me out.” Joshua spread his arms as if to hug the air in front of him. “The two of us, on tour, in a tour bus, a fat paycheck.” 

You pursued your lips, biting back a smile. His proposition had sounded tempting even over the phone, where he had offered you a photography job on the tour he was managing, a spot on the bus and front row seats to every show. 

“It’ll be fun!” He continued, driving the nail in further. “The guy I manage- he’s a chill dude, great rockstar. You’d get along great.” 

“What did you say his name was again?” You asked, looking over the contract he had given you one more time. 

“Vernon.” Joshua nudged your arm, pushing you to sign. “C’mon. It’ll be like the old days again, bandwagoning across the country in the name of making art.” He placed the last words in air quotations as he smiled. “And the paycheck doesn’t hurt.”

“Not at all.” It was a ridiculous amount of money. “When do we start?”

Clapping his hands, Joshua looked joyous to have you along. “First concert’s tomorrow, right here in New York. It starts at 8, but come earlier so you can meet the band first. I’ll introduce you to Vernon- oh, he’s going to be so psyched to see you.” 

As much as you loved his enthusiasm, the jitters of having such a high profile job was catching up to you, once again reminding you just how high the stakes were. You needed this job, for the money, for the recognition it’d give you - you needed it all. 

Flashing Joshua a bright smile, you nodded, looking more confident than you felt. “Great. I’ll go home, pack my things, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Alright, sunshine.” Joshua chuckled as you struggled to put your coat back on, your childhood nickname rolling off his tongue like second nature. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“This was not the fucking deal, Josh.” 

You couldn’t believe your eyes as you stared, open-mouthed at the boy in front of you, decked out in silver chains, ripped jeans and sporting a backwards baseball cap. He all but screamed rockstar, yet you keep circling back to the fact that-

“Hansol?” 

-the fact that you knew him. Very well, in fact.

“Y/N?” 

He seemed just as astonished to see you, eyes darting suspiciously towards Joshua. “This, is my tour photographer?” 

“This?” You cried out indignantly, turning to Joshua as well. “Did it just not cross your mind to mention that your rockstar happened to be Hansol from school?” 

“Well-” Joshua put his hands up in defence, the large grin on his face betraying how much he was enjoying the moment. “Surprise?” 

“Joshua!” Both you and Vernon yelled out, anger escaping as the two of you contemplated whether or not throttling Joshua would be worth the consequences.

“I am not staying on a tour bus with her.” Vernon pointed an accusatory finger your way. “Especially not for four months. I’d rather throw myself off a cliff.” 

“I’d rather chop off my own finger and eat it.” You hissed back, equally disgusted at the idea of sharing your space with him. 

“Contract’s signed.” Joshua shrugged, his eyes dancing with mirth as he watched the two of you glare daggers at one another. “Jeez. It’s like the air in here could kill or something.”

“I do not want to breathe the same air as him.” You stabbed a finger at Vernon.

“I hope you choke on it and die.” He punctuated the last word with fervor. 

“Ditto.” 

Joshua let out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m starting to regret this. Were you guys always this...stabby?” 

“Yes.” Chan poked his head out from the green room. “Ever since they broke up they’ve been literal bitches. Whatever happened to hey, Chan, we’ll still be friends! This won’t break the friend group apart!” He frowned, disapprovement evident on his face. Time still hadn’t erased the betrayal he had felt when the two of you broke up, killing their friend group with suffocating silence. 

“Whatever.” Vernon muttered, turning away, shoving his in-ears back into his ears. “Stay away from me.” 

“With the utmost pleasure.” 

[booksandmemes]

Till, texting: Ivan, will you please go to sleep? Ivan, texting back: What makes you think you didn’t just wake me up? Till, yelling: I CAN HEAR YOU CLAPPING TO THE FRIENDS THEME EVERY TWENTY MINUTES SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO TO SLEEP! --- Mizi:��Sua, we're hungry! Till: Sua! What's for dinner? Ivan: We're hungry, Sua! Sua, frying a bottle of ketchup over the stove: *screams* --- Till: If I punch myself and it hurts, am I weak or strong? Mizi: Strong. Hyuna: Weak. Luka: An idiot, is what your are. --- Hyuna: I would do anything for money. *later* Hyuna, covered in blood: THE STATEMENT STILL STANDS! --- Luka: My goal is not to be the best, but to inspire someone enough to one day surpass me. Mizi: YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT EVERY TIME YOU BEAT ME TO ONE OF MY FRIENDS DYING! --- Till: I met this person on tinder and asked for his last name. He sent it to me and went “Doing a little background check? You might find out I’m a stalker, just ignore that” with a kissy wink emoji. I thought alright so good sense of humor. Till: I looked him up, he was a stalker. --- Mizi: I’m in love with you. Sua: We called off the prank war last night at midnight, dork. Mizi: I know. Sua: Ah. Okay. Um. Cool. Neat. Very cool. Cool. Cool. Coolcoolcool- --- Hyuna: You call it 'bad at darts'. I call it 'freestyle'. Bartender: I'll have to ask you to leave. --- Mizi: Don't break someone's heart, they only have one of those. Luka: Break their 'undying trust' and test if it's really that immortal. --- Till: The food is too hot. I can't eat it. Ivan: You're pretty hot but I'd eat you anytime. Till: Ivan: Sua: Just ONE DINNER- --- Luka: I feel awful about killing you. Sua: *dead* Luka: Even though technically I never even did it, so I don’t know what everyone's bitching about. --- Luka: I got grounded for a whole week just because I came home late. Hyuna: Well, you deserved it. I mean, getting everyone's hopes up like that and then showing up again. --- Comments under an image of a really hot knife cutting bread* Till: Imagine stabbing someone with this knife. Ivan: It would instantly cauterize the wound, the person wouldn't bleed, so it's not very useful. Hyuna: if you want information it is Mizi: why would you STAB a person when you can have TOAST? --- Mizi: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me? Luka: It isn’t smirking at anyone, you’re all just imagining it. Sua: Three of us saw it, Luka. How do you explain that? Luka: *points at Till* Sleep deprivation. *points at Sua* Paranoia. *points at Ivan* Delusional personality disorder. --- Sua: If I fall… Mizi: I’ll be there to catch you. Till: *looks at Ivan* What if I fall? Ivan: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side. Luka: *watches these two interactions* Luka, to Hyuna: And if I fall? Hyuna: I’ll be the one who pushed you.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

[a-b-riddle]

A Simple (Mis) Understanding Chapter One: Location, Location, Location

John

"MacTavish," It had been about three months since the 141 had returned from our last OP. It had been a rough one and, although, we had all come back alive, we didn't come back unscathed. And we all had to thank a pretty little IT 'expert' to thank for that. Stupid fucking Omega...

"Usually I'm the one calling you. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I threw back the amber colored liquor, finishing the last of my latest bottle. It seemed all I had in my free time was drinking myself into an early grave.

Good.

"Care for a hunting trip, Cap'n?" Johnny's tone was playful, which was almost always never a good sign. MacTavish could seek out trouble like a bloody bloodhound. 

"What d'ya have in mind?" I humored. I had come home to a sedentary life style. Any ideals I had about settling down, extinguished. I wasn't as young as I used to be, but I'm still too into the fight to retire now. So whatever Johnny had in mind, surely must be something worth at least entertaining.

"A pretty little flower." He says and I swear I can almost hear the see the smirk on his face. "Stands at about five foot three. Has a knack for stabbing a man in the back right after suckin' 'im dry."

Daisy.

"You got a lead then I take it?" I try to stifle the anger as I feel it beginning to bubble. Every Alpha instinct is telling me to track, hunt, kill. Before, every biological urge I had toward our flower was to protect, keep, and fuck until she forgot her own bloody name. Now, I wasn't so sure I could stand the sight of her long enough to get the answers I wanted-- needed-- before absolutely tearing her to fucking shreds. 

"Aye." He confirmed. "Wanted to see if you were up for it before I called the lads."

"How polite."

"You're still, Cap'n."   "And I know you had more..." There was a shift in his tone. Unease as he tried to find the words, but couldn't. He couldn't. None of us could. Because none of us could describe what had happened with Daisy. Betrayal is too gentle of a word, too short and modest of a word to describe what she had done to us; hell, me. Johnny cleared his throat. Clearly uncomfortable and wanting to retract the beginning of whatever statement he had intended on making.  "Join me to settle an old debt, ye?" 

I didn't need to think twice about Johnny's officer. An opportunity to finish what we started back in Austria. I didn't regret stopping Johnny as much as I did not getting the answers I needed before the little bitch disappeared like a damn thief in the night. Now was the chance. Not only revenge for what we had been through, but the betrayal she had put us through. Jeopardizing not only the 141, but the few loved ones we had. My mum, MacTavish's sisters, Garrick's entire fucking family and the little solace that Simon had. A peace of mind knowing if he wanted to start living again, he could. All of it was almost lost. 

"You got eyes on our-" No. She wasn't ours anymore. Not our girl. Not our flower. Sure as fuck never our Omega. "On her."

"I got an address." If he noticed my pause, he didn't say anything. For that I'm grateful. I can't be weak again because some of doe-eyed little Omega. One who whispered sweet lies about how good my knot felt and all the things she wanted in life. Things we-I- wanted.  "Had an old contact have her name pop up. Hen is too fucking dense to make sure to use an alias especially considering she stayed on our side of the pond."

Don't really plan on going home after this. Not really anything waiting for me back there except some student debt. She had hid the pain of having no family well, but, now after everything, nothing seemed genuine. Every kiss, every touch, every smile and laugh she had thrown my way was now tainted.

Now it was time to bury it all.

"I'll call Garrick." That was all the confirmation Johnny would get out of me. I didn't want to seem too eager to finally get my hands on her. I needed to be collected. Level headed. I was the Alpha. I was the one my team looked to for guidance. I had already failed them once. I damn sure wouldn't be doing it again. "I'll let you convince Riley to come along."

"Lettin' me call in the boogeyman?" Johnny was smiling again. Could fucking hear it in his voice. He was the one who had probably fallen the hardest for the little bitch. Indulging him in soft touches and soothing his temper. Probably the same reason he had put a barrel to her forehead the moment she had admitted to it.

I was going to tell you. She had tried to excuse her delay as if that were the issue. I just didn't know how to tell you. But can you blame me? Yes. We could. And we did. For the shitty last seven months. For the constant worry all of us had for having to pull our mind out of the mission to worry about what was going on back home.

Her tears didn't save her. Only until Laswell came in raising an absolute bloody stink. Claims of how the very audacity to potentially injure an Omega on her team could cost her career. Fuck her career.

"Send me the details." I pulled another bottle off the shelf. Promising myself it would be the last one I had until I finally pulled that weed of a woman out of existence. Killing her meant I could finally move on. Find someone, certainly not a fucking Omega, to settle down with. I could heal from the heartbreak I would never admit to. It would be the ending that we all needed.

"Will do Cap'n." Johnny didn't wait for my dismissal before he hung up. He was just as ready for a hunt as I was.

[obsessednothing]

Our love

George Russell x reader

Warnings: none, just fluff and love

A/N: amount of posts I read about George after the Qatar GP made me write this short fic. Also I feel lonely today, so this idea was easy to write. I don’t want to stir any discussion about what Max or George did or said, it’s just pure fantasy of mine and I felt the urge to write it down.

Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

———

My peaceful sleep was disturbed by sudden sound of clinking of keys in the entrance door of the apartment. Humming a little, I tried to fall asleep again, not caring about who just entered the flat. From what I heard from hallway I understood that he’s home already, which was strange, he wasn’t meant to be home for another week. Getting my feet from the bed, I padded through the doorway of the bedroom, tiptoeing through the hallway, only to find George sitting slumped against the couch in our living room, scrolling through the phone, his face tired.

“Baby, you’re home.” My voice forced his eyes to meet mine. That mesmerising blue was full of sadness and.. regret? With a hum, he averted his gaze back to the screen of his phone and I knew something happened. Actually I knew that pretty well, because I read some posts on the instagram same as the comments even though I promised to myself to not do it. Slowly, I walked towards him, taking a seat beside him on the couch and he immediately leaned with his face into my shoulder, putting his phone aside, his nose gently brushing the material of my pyjamas.

“You smell like home, love..” his whisper made my heart flutter with joy, but at the same time made my stomach tight, because of the deep pain in his voice. Trailing my fingers through his hair, I heard his soft purr, his body relaxing under my touch.

“Tell me, what’s troubling you, George.” Even though I knew, I wanted to hear it from him, he needed to talk about it, to get it out of his mind.

“I acted like a child.. I was under pressure, nearly having that pole position, so I had to try to raise objection to have Max investigated, because he was driving too slow. Everybody is doing what they must in our field, it felt right, he got the penalty and I got the pole, but he’s now mad at me, saying that I’m fake person, who’s acting sweet in front of the cameras but behind the closed doors I’m a jerk.. as much as I’m trying to deny it, he’s maybe right.” His talking was fast, how much he tried to say everything he had in mind.

With frown on my face, I cupped his cheeks gently, forcing him to look into my eyes. “I understand, what pressure is on you, especially after Vegas. No, especially after that loss in Belgium.. you’re putting yourself under immense stress, and sometimes you unfortunately do something that doesn’t make sense, to make things right for you. You’re a great person, George, kind, sweet, caring, loving.. oh, I could write a love song about you and that wouldn’t be enough, but.. you’re also determined, ready to risk all, calculating, cocky.. sometimes we don’t do so good things, but that’s life. And the F1 life, oh god, there’s shitty persons everywhere, waiting for stabbing you in your back.”

Listening to my words, he visibly relaxed, his shoulders not so tight, frown on his face disappearing, replaced by smile. “I knew that it was a good idea to come back home.”

“You’re also very surprising, I didn’t even think about you getting home, even for a while, but that just means you love our home. Our safe space.”

“Main and only reason why I love our home is that I love you.”

Confession that I would like to hear everyday for the rest of my life (and I hopefully would). Every single one of his affectionate sentences was said with breathless clarity, like a warm breeze in summer, caressing my cheeks.

My lips curled in wide smile, eyes gleaming with love and joy, my thumbs brushing over his cheeks, still holding his gaze.

“I believe in you. Everybody can say anything they think. But nobody knows that heart of yours. I know. And it’s more than a social media, than brilliant poses in the magazines, than millions of interviews, smiling into camera like you have no emotions. Maybe there are some actions I don’t like you doing, but still I’m proud of you.”

He was just watching me, letting every single word sink into his mind. After a moment of silence, he reached for me, grabbing me by the back of my neck, pulling me closer, his gaze flicking at my lips, claiming them in sweet kiss. Oh god, how I loved his soft and hot lips.

Parting slowly, he looked into my eyes deeply, whispering, his breath mingling with mine. “I love, love, love, you, my darling..”

Caressing his hair, I chuckled, resting my forehead against his. “There are no other words that can describe how utterly and deeply I love you, George.”

“I would give you the world if I could.” He cocked his head a little with small frown.

Shaking my head in disbelief, I let out a soft laugh. “You already did.”

“How so?” He narrowed his eyes with quirked brow and smile.

Leaning closer to his lips again, swimming in the blue colour of his eyes, I whispered. “It’s you. You’re my whole world.”

And with that, we happened to take a hot bath, laughing and talking to the late hours of night, enjoying our closeness, because our safe space was more than anything that existed outside our home. Our love.

[angelyuji]

dear diary

bruce wayne x reader (kinktober week 4)

tw // stalking, kidnapping, voyeurism, masturbation, pattinson!bruce is silly and a cutiepie

18+! minors dni!

november 1 : riddler’s floor has left the city a mess. i can barely hold on, helping the people affected and trying to understand what’s going on with penguin. i can’t focus.

november 5: you’re pretty. you were getting mugged when i came. you looked pretty as you cried, arms wrapped around my neck. i asked if you wanted me to escort you home and you nodded so cutely. you’re apartment was as cute as you, every decoration was an extension of you. you’re so pretty, (y/n).

november 8: i broke into your home when you were at work. i wanted to be closer to you, i want to know things about you no one else does. your apartment smells like you, the shampoo, the detergent, your perfume. i felt myself get overwhelmed as blood rushed down there. it’s hard to keep myself contained. for now, i’ll keep an eye on you. just in case.

november 15: you leave your windows wide open; you always do. you drop your bag on the couch and start your routine. crossing the date off on your calendar with a purple sharpie, you turn on your oven for a store-bought pizza and head to your room. you slowly undress in your bedroom, standing in front of the mirror and checking your face. i can see every curve, every mark on your body. you’re so beautiful. a car horn surprised the both of us, bringing me back to patrol and you start to pull on pajamas. i wish i could touch you, show you how beautiful you are. i’ll come visit tomorrow, to make sure you’re safe.

november 20: the city was restless as thanksgiving neared. i guess even the darkness in the city would panic as the holiday approached. i watched you restlessly flit through the apartment, setting up couches and beds. one moment you were in the living room, setting up coaches, and the next you were in the kitchen, mixing things in pots. i wish i was there with you, helping you, meeting your family… i need to keep my focus on gotham.

november 28: i told myself to leave you alone, but i managed to end up in front of your apartment once again. i’m sure alfred will laugh at me. i watch you with your family, smiling and laughing. i need to feel you. fuck, i need to clear my head.

december 13: i caught myself watching old recordings of you. just one glance at your bare skin and i can feel my resolve crumbling. i wish i could bring you here, so i could just stop thinking of you all the time.

december 20: i dreamt about you. it felt so real. i could feel your soft arms wrapped tightly around my neck as i plow into you, desperate and aching. i woke up hearing your moans in my head and my thighs sticky with my own cum. i felt like i was 13 again, cleaning the sheets while alfred slept. look at what you’re doing to me, (y/n).

december 24: i got careless. i thought i saw you and i got careless, stabbed in the side by a scared kid stealing from an atm. in the haze of blood-loss, i hadn’t realized where i ended up until i saw your eyes peering down at me. “shit.” i heard myself talk without realizing. your warm hands helped me up, and i felt a laugh bubbling out of me as you shoved me through the open window into your apartment. every noise you make is so cute, i barely registered the pain. i felt myself hit the floor when it all went dark.

december 25: the first words you said when i opened my eyes: “merry christmas!” you smile sheepishly, i could feel your hands fixing my bandages. i felt the cowl on my head, untouched, but somehow you had taken off my suit. “sorry, google told me to change them every couple hours, so i bought a bunch of supplies while you were… asleep.” you look away. i try to sit up and you help me settle in.

“why did you help me?” my voice sounded rough and you bring a cup of water to my lips. i drink from the cup, water spills down my chin and you use a hand to wipe it away. i feel my heart skip a beat at the loving touch.

you shrug, “you saved my life before. how could i leave gotham’s knight dying at my fire escape?” i feel a smile pull at my lips. every glance, every involuntary movement, every word, everything about you made my heart swell.

i couldn’t trust my words, so i hum. night comes quickly and you put on a movie, feeding me slowly. it was nice, it was everything i had dreamt of. you are everything i imagined and more… you’re perfect.

december 26: you woke up, confused and scared, screaming at me. i’m sure it’ll be hard at first, but with time, you’ll get used to your new home. alfred had disapproved at first, but he knows how happy you make me, how much more careful i’ll be. i won’t have to worry about you anymore, knowing you’re home with me forever.

[michaelgarnier]

The Gauge

Guilt, and guilt's antipode are the two most apparent experiences in my life--so far.

During my early-mid childhood, I was an extremely sensitive child who could not help but fear the grating that underlines the specific tone of voice you'd only hear when being critiqued--bare & raw.

Due to my umbrageous nature, I always had this stern sense of guilt hanging over me, forcing me into the most unforgivable cycle where I would allow myself have a "day off", bi-monthly--a day I would not allow myself feel guilt at all, then proceeding the day subsequent.

I came onto this Earth inadequate to handle the harrow of someone raising there voice at me, I had this idea that someone who raises their voice at me was someone who thinks I was better off deceased or banished--to become a hermit of some sense.

I put every ounce of my being into avoiding confrontation like a hare avoids a hound, petrified by nature, running by instinct. But, alike all hares, I could not run all the time.

Alas, the victory belonged to the hound, as it drags it's teeth through flesh like a razor hoe through crop--confrontation was the trophy.

What I find to be interesting about this now, is I have a strong memory of a vision that I would disease my senses with like plague amongst an oblivious village, O' a sharp stab it was;

The light around me would multiply in volume, giving itself a rather sharp texture--a horrible brail you can only feel with your pupil.

The floor around me would feel as though it had turned to helium--rising but no longer supporting me.

Alas, I would get an uncomfortable and quite uneasy pain in between my joints, almost as if my tendons had turned into some kind of balloon, cursed by their intolerance to the air that makes them cave, eventually.

I used to fear that one day it would cause my arms to dislocate and by some force, reach backwards to my spine--gauging it out in an awful singular tug, with my own hand.

I would call this vision "The Gauge", and I would only ever experience it when someone raised their voice at me.

Like I said, I was an extremely sensitive child who thought that someone raising their voice at me meant they wanted me to die in the most brutal way possible.

I have been thinking about it a lot recently.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

please. please i need house to call me a faggot and a tranny while balls deep in me. please.

YES ANONS GLORY TO THE LAW OFFICES OF SLAMMIN SLAMMIN MCGILL 🫡⚖️

warning: transphobia, homophobia, slurs, degradation, humiliation, fucking medical ethics violations i guess, hair-pulling, drug abuse, mentions of pregnancy, misgendering kinda, not to doxx myself but im using my own medical info for ease of writing specifics

anatomical terms: vagina/pussy/cunt

“Okay, current medications. Let’s see what’cha got…”

Clinic duty was never enjoyable for House. It was really just a slew of NPC’s for him to verbally abuse until someone showed something interesting. A weird rash, an inexplicably high fever, or, in your case, a discrepancy in your suspected genital anatomy.

“This… says you have a birth control implant. So either someone fatfingered your actual prescription on the computer, or—“

“It’s… accurate.” You replied sheepishly, lifting your arm to highlight its location. “I actually do have one.”

The doctor looked perplexed, almost angrily so. Like you’d just spat in his face and dared him to call your bluff. He aggressively limped towards you and gripped your arm entirely too hard. With his other hand, his two fingers prodded around for the implant until he got it.

“Well!” He scoffed, rolling the stick underneath your skin, pressing on either edge to seesaw it within you. “Thank god you’re not reproducing. Imagine some poor preschooler having to bring your fruity little ass in for Mother’s Day. Kid would get turbo-bullied on the playground. Good on you for being responsible.”

He hobbled back over to the computer to return to your file, leaving you stunned, speechless, and sputtering. What is this guy’s fucking problem? What in the actual ever-loving fuck did he just say to you? And why was it... kinda hot, in all honesty?

“Ah, there it is. Testosterone cypionate. Jumped the gun on that one. If only I had scrolled down. Alphabetization makes fools of us all…” He continued reading the details of your dosage. “0.6 milliliters biweekly, self-administered intramuscular injections. Ooh, so you’re a masochist too.”

Your reaction was an unfortunate reflex, on par with if he’d tapped your knee with that dinky little hammer, only much more embarrassing. You had no chance of stopping the pathetic whine that escaped your vocal cords. “Mm~!” You gasped, then coughed, hoping to sufficiently cover the sound, and shouted, “What?! N-No, no I’m not!”

“Oh, please, you are not a good liar.” House tapped his cane on the exam table, right between your legs. Not touching you, not even close. He just wanted to imply that he could. “To administer a masculinizing dose of testosterone in patients assigned female at birth, they can either self-inject, or they can rub themselves with what’s essentially lotion. So why would you choose stabbing yourself in the leg unless you want to stab yourself in the leg? And why would you want to stab yourself in the leg? Because you’re a pain slut. Am I wrong?”

No. No, he was not. Well, that isn't why you chose injections, but you were a pain slut. Of course, you didn’t wanna admit that to him. That’d just make you even more pathetic. Oh well, it’s not like you needed to say anything anyway. The mortified look on your face was proof enough.

“So! What brings you in today? Bruised butt-cheeks from your Daddy taking you over his knee too hard?”

You rolled your eyes at his snarky comment, trying to stick up for yourself and what little shreds of dignity you had left. “My STD test results.”

“Oh, sure. Figures you would need to know that. Can’t have Typhoid Mary taking backshots at the circuit party. What types of sex are you having?”

Used to these questions every time you get tested, you rattled them off nonchalantly. “Vaginal, oral, and anal.”

“Not letting anything go to waste, huh? I like it. How many sexual partners do you have currently?”

Wait a minute. You just needed to hear the results. What’s this guy doing? “Uh… didn’t the nurse already ask me these questions?”

“I’m sure someone did. I just want to hear you answer them.”

You crossed your arms and stared straight through him, silently, baring an expression that sufficiently said cut the shit without the need for any verbal assistance.

Dr. House pouted. “You’re no fun.” He opened the folder he had came in with, what he was initially supposed to give you. He had just been dilly-dallying to kill time. “All negative. You’re clean. Well, in this one aspect, you’re clean. Morally, you’re about the furthest thing from it.” Again, he smacked his cane on the table, in between your legs, this time in rhythm. “Just. My. Type.”

You squirmed, trying to shimmy backwards away from his cane. You cast your eyes downward, obscuring the profuse blush on your face. He didn’t need to know that he was getting to you. Still, it was flattering. You cleared your throat. “Uh… Thank you? I guess?”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and one more thing. I saw that your chart lists recreational ketamine usage. Is that true?”

“Yeah, actually. Why do you ask? Are you gonna tell me to quit?”

“Ugh, please. I’m a doctor, not a narc. Here, watch.” Dr. House reached into his pocket and took out a jar of pills. He opened it, poured a ridiculous amount of pills into his palm, and dry swallowed them. “See? Now we’re both junkies! But, you do have a point. It’s my Hippocratic duty to look out for my patients’ well-being. The street supply of ketamine can be mixed with dangerous additives like fentanyl or crack, which would put you at risk for overdosing. You want a scrip for the good shit?”

Oh? On god? Ethics and potential felony charges be damned. The weirdly hot doctor wants to hook you up with substances? Weapons grade ketamine? You’d be an idiot to pass it up. “Oh! Sure, thank you!”

“It does come with a pretty hefty co-pay though.”

“Oh…” Your face dropped. “How much?”

“Bend over.”

—

“Ahhh, modern medicine is amazing, isn’t it?”

Dr. House sighed in pleasure as he rutted into you from behind. Your legs were cramping, held apart in an awkward position. Your arms were cold against the metal slab of the table, and so was your face, buried within them to cover your shame and soundproof your moans. Apparently, that “copay" he mentioned was just a euphemism. Some dumb excuse to get you to trade pussy for premium drugs. And you were dumb enough to do it. Just his lucky day. Keep your face down, keep your mouth shut, and just let him use you. The high will be well worth it.

"Hey, faggot," He spat, and yanked you up out of the darkness by your hair. Your eyes stung, shocked by the fluorescent clinic lighting. "I'm talking to you. Are you always this rude to everyone who fucks you?"

"S-Sor—Sorry! I'm sor—fuck! Fuck!"

"Shut the fuck up, whore," House clamped his hand over your mouth, holding you even tighter against him. You couldn't move, you couldn't speak. Your only function was getting him off. "If we get caught, you don't get your ket. Now, mmm, fuck yeah, tell me... Isn't modern medicine amazing?"

Without the ability to verbally agree, you nodded.

"Do you know why I'm saying it's amazing?"

You shook your head.

He chuckled devilishly before growling in your ear,

"Because I can blow my load in a tight little tranny boy's cunt without worrying about knocking him up."

[multi-fandom-imagine]

•EVEN MORE THE BLUE EYE SAMURAI INCORRECT QUOTES•

Reader: Do you ever do anything except whine like a little bitch.

Taigen: Some times I whine like a big Bitch!

Ringo: Do you think when Butterflies are in love that they feel human's in their stomach?

Reader: Ringo! What the fuck!

Reader: • • •_-• - / ... - •_• •_• -.-

Mizu: What is that

Reader: Remorse Code.

Mizu: I am even angery now.

Reader: Hey Mizu, what are you eating?

Mizu: A family sized bag of sweets.

Reader...that's not family sized....that's regular sized....

Mizu:Everything is family sized when you dont have a family.

Reader: *whispering* Mizu...nOo

Reader: *Laying in bed* Do you think birds get sad for not having arms?

Mizu: Well do you get sad for not having wings?

Reader: *Choke up* Every single day.

Taigen: If I say I love you will you say it back?

Reader: Yes

Taigen: I love you

Reader: It back

*Five Minutes later*

Mizu: Why is Taigen sobbing face down on the floor?

Reader: I wish I could block people in real life.

Akemi: Restraining order

Mizu: Murder

Reader: What are you five?

Taigen: Yea! Five head's taller than you.

Reader:

Taigen:

Reader:

Taigen:....Please don't kill me.

Mizu: Are you high?

Reader: Am I what?

Mizu: High?

Reader: Hello.

Taigen: Can you be quiet?! I'm trying to think.

Reader: Don't worry. Doing anything for the first time is difficult.

Mizu: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

Reader: It was me...

Mizu: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

Reader: Why are you on the floor?

Mizu: I’m depressed.

Mizu: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ringo, please

Taigen: I guess I’m just a bad person.

Reader: Nah, you’re not a bad person. You’re a terrific person. You’re my favourite person. But sometimes you can be a real cunt

Reader: Hey Mizu?

Mizu, internally: There they are. My favorite person in the world, the love of my life. Fuck I just want to stare at them and hold them and kiss them for the rest of my life—

Mizu: What the FUCK do you want?

Akemi staring at Reader: “You look like an angel.”

Reader who wasn’t paying attention: “What?”

Akemi: “I said you look ugly at every angle.”

Mizu *screeching*: YOU MEAN A LOT TO ME!

Reader: wh-

Mizu: YOU’RE ESSENTIAL TO MY EXISTENCE!

Reader:why are you screaming??

Mizu: BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF! IT HELPS TO YELL SENTIMENTAL THINGS IN AN AGRESSIVE TONE!

Reader: I-

Mizu: I FUCKING LOVE YOU!

Ringo: Wow, it’s a barren featureless wasteland out there isn’t it?

Reader: … Ringo, try turning the map around.

Reader: You’re mad at me.

Mizu: I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.

Reader: Oh, come on. Everyone knows that’s worse

Mizu: Don’t worry, you’ve got everything you need to defeat them.

Reader: The power to believe in myself?

Mizu: No, a Sword.

Mizu: Stab them.

Reader: Don’t kill me, I have a wife

Assassin: I don’t care about that

Reader: That wasn’t a plea for mercy, that was a warning

Mizu kicking the door down: You called, love?

Reader: Here you are, Mizu. Nice hot cup of tea.

Mizu: …It’s cold.

Reader: Nice cup of tea.

Mizu: It’s horrible.

Reader: Cup of tea.

Mizu: I’m not even sure it is tea.

Reader: Cup.

Reader: You need to react when people cry.

Mizu: I did, I rolled my eyes.

Reader: Gotta love knitting needles, I can make a scarf, I can make a hat, I can stab someones eyes out, I can make mittens.

Akemi: What was that middle part?

Reader: I can make a hat?

Mizu: How much sleep did you get?

Reader: Eight.

Mizu: Hours?

Reader: Minutes. God! Taigen, would you shut the fuck up?

Taigen*Fixing his hair*: What the fuck? I didn’t even say anything!

Taigen: how come you’ve been abnormally nice to me lately?

Reader what do you mean?

Taigen: you just seem nicer than usual

Mizu: They can punch you in the face if you want.

Fowler: I could kill you if I wanted.

Reader: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special.

Akemi: Did you really have to stab him?

Reader: You weren't there, you didn't hear what he said to me.

Akemi: And what did he say?

Reader: "What are you gonna do? Stab me?"

Mizu, nodding: That's fair.

Akemi: NO!

Reader: *Screams*

Taigen: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Ringo: Should we do something?

Mizu: No, I want to see who wins.

Ringo:Let's speak about our talents.

Ringo:...I'll start, I like to cook.

Akemi: I'm good at languages.

Reader: I'm good instruments.

Mizu: I'm good at killing people.

Reader: *Does something stupid*

Mizu: What an absolute fucking idiot.

Mizu: I can't believe I would die for them.

[mcflymemes]

BULLET TRAIN (2022) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

if you mention thomas the tank engine one more time, i'm gonna shoot you in the fucking face.

would you describe me as someone who lives in perpetual anxiety?

well, you also have a shoot-able face.

you never know what horrible fate your bad luck has saved you from.

thank you for taking the job on such short notice.

you are getting the new and improved me.

i'm less reactive to situations, i'm more accepting of people's shortcomings.

you put peace out in the world, you get peace back.

i'm not even trying to kill people and someone dies.

i could live here. i like the atmosphere, the people are considerate.

i know i'm being judgmental. i need to work on that.

this train is bound for kyoto.

i'm gonna assume you didn't take the gun?

you know, i'm thinking of starting my own agency.

what am i snatching and/or grabbing?

shit, i think i dropped my ticket.

you're bleeding.

who the fuck did i kill?

i think they'll notice the childish code names first.

when was the last time you ate a lemon meringue pie?

there's always a catch.

you idiots work for my father?

you ever watch thomas the tank engine? everything i learned about people i learned from thomas.

i want to strangle you now.

why do you always bring swords?

that wasn't our fault.

hey, listen, i'm just gonna get off at the next stop.

where's the briefcase?

he doesn't need a reason to kill people like you.

you're going to want to hear the whole story, or you'll be very, very sorry.

why do i even bother forwarding you the briefings?

no one really knows the truth.

we are... fucked.

find me the son of a bitch who did this.

can we just take a time out here? talk this out?

why does that sound so familiar?

the guy who stabbed me. i spilled wine on his suit.

one of them is walking towards me right now.

why are we whispering?

your orders were to stay on the train.

can i please do my job now?

shove that fucking hat up your fucking asshole.

there's a gun underneath this table pointed right at you.

i'm just fucking with you.

real quick... every day is a fucking headache with you, innit?

you're alive, i'm alive, everyone's happy.

i just want to get off this train, go see a zen garden and some shit, you know?

there's another body here.

this guy's like criss fucking angel. he pops up everywhere.

unlike you, i'm a professional.

you shoot first and come up with the answers later.

are you hiding in a bathroom?

i knew my luck would rub off on you.

you're really proud of yourself, aren't you?

for what it's worth, you seem like a right fucking asshole and i'm glad you're gonna fucking die with me.

you proved you're smarter than everyone.

am i dreaming?

i don't know how to use a gun.

i'm glad you enjoyed the performance.

i'm mansplaining. i'm mansplaining again.

you want a blanket? you want me to hold your hand?

you have been lying to me, my friend.

i never forget a face.

i'm so happy to see you. please help me.

make sure you do something that brings you peace, 'cause everything else is a pain in the ass.

fate for me is just another word for bad luck.

why are you motherfuckers using metaphors?

i'm gonna buy us some time.

i built myself up from the nothing you gave me.

i came here to kill you.

oh shit. something's happening.

i'm sorry i shot you twice.

we're almost there. you just need to get up.

what's happening to your face? are you crying?

[perfectlyoongi]

EX-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who knows his mistake was falling in love with you, but would do it again if you gave him a second chance. and it was just a second chance that he asked, that he begged. let Jungkook make the same mistakes. let Jungkook learn from his mistakes. let Jungkook love one more time so he can stop being in love with you. Jungkook was full of devotion, an ocean of pure love ran inside him desperately looking for a beach where he could delight and calm all the turmoil that existed inside him. just one more time. just one more kiss. just one more touch. just another chance was all Jungkook asked for because, even though his downfall was rooted in his devotion, Jungkook knew nothing more than loving you. it was a reality for Jungkook for years, an eternal life, and it was all he knew — let him live his life once again, that was all Jungkook asked for. “i should have seen this ending coming for myself, but it never stopped me from loving you. i allowed myself to feel because i knew you would never leave me. so why did you leave? why don’t you come back to me?”

EX-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who has a table full of bouquets of flowers that he never gave you. Jungkook could never get rid of that annoying habit of buying you flowers whenever a day was more beautiful or a special date was approaching — it had been a constant in Jungkook’s life to offer you several bouquets of flowers. there was always love in the bright colors of the flowers, a little understanding in some branches, complete fascination in the various leaves and all the flowers, all the bouquets, contained much more than Jungkook’s love. the bouquets had hope blossoming between the many petals; hope for a repeated past, hope for an altered present, hope for a future with you. but, no matter how colorful the bouquets were, no matter how bright the flowers were, they all had the same fate when bought by Jungkook; without any support or water, Jungkook just placed the bouquets on the table, looking at them with regret, hating himself a little for having succumbed to that habit of his that was only born with you. and the bouquets piled up. and Jungkook didn’t throw away the bouquets. there, on that table adorned with the destruction of his love, lay all of Jungkook’s devotion, a withered devotion that had no one as the object of its desires. “today i bought you a bouquet again. i just wanted to tell you that i bought your favorite flowers. they will always be here waiting for you. please, come and get them when you can.”

EX-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who feels his heart break every time he hears news about you. it was as if every word about you was loaded with sharp daggers that stabbed heavily into Jungkook’s heart and made him bleed tears of longing and hurt. hearing any information about you destroyed Jungkook. you got your promotion? you didn’t celebrate with him. you adopted a new cat? you didn’t ask Jungkook for name suggestions. you were okay? how could you be okay if Jungkook felt smaller and smaller, breaking into insignificant fragments that scattered wherever Jungkook passed in hopes of finding you and clinging to you? how could you be happy when Jungkook counted all the stars at night in hopes of one of them granting his wish for you to return to him? each piece of news burned hotter than the next, Jungkook’s small, fragile heart turning to paper, burning with the flames of insignificance and neglect — so much news about you and none about how much you missed Jungkook. “i heard you finally managed to buy the house you wanted. it’s still strange to imagine you in a house different than mine, but i want you to know that i’m really happy for you.”

EX-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who swears his lips were dry with all the words he didn’t get to say to you. Jungkook couldn’t remember the last time he felt like his lips were his — since the beginning of time it was clear that Jungkook’s sweet lips belonged to you; every word Jungkook said was adorned with your smiles and sweet laughs; every song Jungkook recited was framed with your beauty and essence; all the kisses Jungkook gave you were star-lit, all the constellations creating stories about you. for years, Jungkook’s lips belonged to you — now that you were gone, you’ve stopped taking care of them. your negligence appeared in rough form on Jungkook’s lips, no amount of lip balm being able to replace the lack you did to them. slowly, Jungkook’s lips were forgetting about you, getting rid of the skin you once touched, pushing with it all the words Jungkook liked to have said to you. “i love you and i want a life with you. i don’t think i can handle a life without you by my side. please stay.”

EX-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who stops sleeping because he can’t bear to dream about anything other than you. between sleepless nights and random dreams, Jungkook always chose to spend his nights sitting on the couch with the television on, his eyes staring but his mind running through memories and scenarios of when those restless nights were shared with you. how could Jungkook dream about anything if he only wanted you? he didn’t have any control over his dreams — he wanted to dream about you, but Jungkook knew he didn’t control his mind and he preferred to forbid his brain from creating any comfort for his heart rather than live experiences not worth living, just because there was no you.

EX-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who burns all the memories he has with you in the hope of being able to forget you. all the photos that had a touch of your magic were deleted from his cell phone, but not before printing them and throwing them in the fire; all the letters you exchanged with Jungkook when he traveled the world were thrown into the fire without a second thought; all the tickets to the movies you went were consumed by the hot flames of a fire of revolt and devastation. standing in front of the fire, seeing his entire life reduced to the same ashes that dusted his heart, Jungkook was static, no emotion behind his eyes glazed over in the fire; seeing the flames dancing, consuming everything he was, Jungkook could onl—

EX-BOYFRIEND!JUNGKOOK who stopped loving all the details about himself that made you fall in love with him — if you had stopped loving Jungkook, why would he love himself?