#he didn't do it out of the kindness in his heart

[nadinescholtes]

What if Monty didn't listen and got to Lunar before the Astrals?

Solar really cares about Lunar. Back in his dimension Lunar was the first who showed him kindness after a long time. When Lunar returned from the dead, you could hear his voice break a little when he said: Lunar?

Solar, him seeing Lunar like this broke his heart. I also think Lunar needs a hug from a friendly Eclipse because of his issues with Eclipse.

What will happen after this? The Astrals came right after and saw the whole situation. They still sent him to prison and Lunar went without a word. When he got back, he was still kicked out (to protect the kids) but Solar gave him one last hug before he went out the door.

What do you think? I wanted to try some drama and angst.

I still love where the shows are going, I just want to explore.

[hyejinkim]

A request from @omkookie for Mr. Hood here, since he didn't get as much reconciliation as the others. Anyways, please do enjoy the story!

"Warmth in the Weary Heart: A Spark from Small Acts of Kindness" (Mr. Hood x reader).

Warning: none, just, maybe some words are hard to understand because I'm not a native English speaker, I translated it using Google so I ask for your understanding.

The hours stretched into what felt like endless days as you continued to search for the elusive elevator that was your only means of escape from this cursed apartment. Countless times you found yourself facing off against hostile entities, only to emerge overwhelmed and exhausted. The struggle to find food and water added to your despair, yet through it all, you were fortunate enough to have Mr. Hood by your side. He served as a steadfast companion and guide, helping you navigate the dangers and keeping you company in your quest to find a pathway out of the apartment and back to your own world.

Mr. Hood's presence was a lifeline in this hopeless situation. His assistance and support went beyond just being a mere companion; he was the one who kept you grounded and prevented you from succumbing to despair. Despite the grim surroundings and the seemingly never-ending search for the elevator, you were grateful for his company and the small bit of sanity he provided in this nightmarish reality.

Despite the relentless search for an elevator to your world, you found comfort in Mr. Hood's unwavering presence. His role as your helper and companion provided a much-needed lifeline, keeping you grounded and sane amidst the seemingly endless quest. However, even in your determination to press on, you were painfully aware of your own bodily limitations, feeling the strain of the challenges you had endured.

Mr. Hood, ever observant, recognized your overwhelm and gently led you to a safe haven, away from the dangers that loomed nearby. With great care, he guided you to a nearby bed, its appearance reminiscent of a hospital bed. His movements were both elegant and gentle, his touch delicately guiding you onto the bed, treating you as if you were something precious and fragile. Once he had settled you down, as Mr. Hood then turned his attention to finding a place to rest himself. Spotting an old sofa nearby, its blue hue faded with time, he strode toward it with a slight sigh. Carefully laying his colossal axe nearby to ensure it would not pose a threat, he sank onto the sofa, the creaking sound of the worn upholstery echoing slightly in the air.

As Mr. Hood sat there quietly, his body slowly regenerating after a strenuous battle. His form had taken on a peculiar texture, smooth and soft yet firm and muscular, akin to a living mass of slime. In his relaxed state, he stretched out, inadvertently adopting a rather provocative seating position, with his legs spread wide apart. Oblivious to the presence of you, who had been covertly observing him, Mr. Hood continued to sit like that, unaware of the subtle glances cast his way. Eventually, as the silence grew between them, you couldn't help but become shy and turned their gaze away.

Mr. Hood remained blissfully unaware of you're reaction, still focused on his own thoughts. He leaned back, sinking into the chair, the soft, slime-like texture of his body adjusting to the contour of the seat. The silence between them continued, broken only by the occasional soft sound of Mr. Hood's breathing.

Finally, Mr. Hood took notice of the change in atmosphere and turned his attention towards you. He caught a glimpse of the your shy demeanor, their averted eyes and flushed cheeks, and then realization dawned upon him.

His smooth, deep voice carried a hint of worry as he questioned, "You, hurt?" The soft, yet impactful tone sent a slight shiver down your spine, causing you to shake your head in response.

"No! I'm not hurt! It doesn't hurt!..." you quickly reassured, attempting to mask any evidence of your previous observations. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but admit to yourself that the sight of him, clad in nothing but a simple cloth wrapping his muscular body, was strangely alluring.

Despite your attempts to downplay any injury, Mr. Hood's concern lingered. He stood up from his seat, his mind seemingly contemplating something that piqued your curiosity. Before you had a chance to decipher his thoughts, you caught a hint of a knowing smile at the corner of his lips.

He leaned back, his large frame exuding a seductive aura, his long legs parted in a challenging gesture. The dirty brown cloth wrapped around his body rode up slightly, revealing more of his form, while his muscular arms stretched out, beckoning you closer.

"You, come... here, besides me..." he commanded, his low voice laced with an invitation that sent a shiver down your spine. The sight of him, posed in such a provocative manner, left you flustered and curious. You couldn't tear your gaze away, torn between wanting to oblige and wanting to resist the temptation.

After a while, You finally gathered your courage and slowly stepped off the bed, careful not to stumble and embarrass yourself further in front of the man who had become your guardian angel.

You stood before him, your heart pounding furiously in your chest, the sound of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. Despite your predicament, you couldn't deny the familiarity of this feeling – it reminded you of a time when life was still 'normal.'

After a moment of hesitation, you felt his strong hands gently pull you towards him, maneuvering you onto one of his massive thighs. Feeling like you were engulfed in a warm embrace, you found yourself instinctively leaning against his broad body. His deep voice, uttering the two simple words 'You, rest,' held a calming authority that seemed to banish your worries.

As he wrapped you in the cloth that clung to his body, enveloping you in a soft layer of warmth and comfort, you felt your eyelids growing heavy. Gradually, the tension in your body melted away, and a sense of peace washed over you, lulling you into a deep sleep in his lap.

His large, protective arms encircled you with a gentle firmness, his body a comforting presence against your fatigue and the stresses of the day. As you slept, your head resting against his warm chest, you felt a sense of safety that hadn't been there in a long time. Each slow, steady beat of his heart echoed against your ear, a steady rhythm that lulled you further into a relaxed state. He shifted slightly, adjusting his hold on you so that you would be more comfortable without disturbing your sleep.

With you comfortably asleep in his arms, mr. Hood was finally able to relax. He shifted his position slightly, careful not to wake you as he sought to make your sleep even more pleasant. In the stillness of the room, he spoke softly, his voice gentle and filled with a tender, loving tone.

"Good night... (y/n)..." he whispered, his words a soothing lullaby in the quiet darkness.

Disclaimer! :

This art is legally mine, so I hope you don't take it without my permission first!. Some words might be hard to understand because I used google to translate it, English isn't my first language so I hope you can understand my difficulty in translating it!)

[multipleoccupancy]

Her kind words earned another tear from him, his eyes sore from crying previously burned with the sensation but it was the good kind. It was quite the compliment from Samantha to be called kind and brave though he did know they were close and she might have been pandering, it was still well received considering he thought much the same of her.

Violet's tenacity had been something to behold and he realised in that moment that Samantha had not seen what he had seen in the ward but she had witnessed it while Sloane had been trying to call down Fire Vampires. "I don't know if that's a good thing," her being like a younger version of him, he had not exactly been careful, hell he still wasn't. "She fought back too, she bit two of them and kicked a nurse in the face, she broke his nose." Despite it all, even how he shivered and kept himself on the floor there was just a note of pride in that statement too. "She's the toughest person I've met." And in part it scared him for what was ahead. She couldn't fight everything.

"I am sure she thinks you're very cool," he commented, Darlene was still very small by his recollection, "There's no one cooler than Mom. I should know." He cracked a smile for Andrea but thought it was true for Samantha too. He was reminded of his parents and he wondered if he would have the heart to tell them now that he could remember their visits and what was said. His heart that bit heavier as he debated with himself about getting off the floor.

She was doing a fine job of easing his worries around what Delta Green might do with his failure. Agents needed breaks he knew that, he went out and saw it for himself often enough, somehow he just struggled to let that apply to him too. "Thank you," he told her, for her reassurance and he was quite sure she really would knock out any handler's teeth that dared to send him anywhere in the meantime. "I have his file on the desk," he pointed to where he had seen Violet place it earlier. He sniffled and started to push himself from the floor again, wobbling a little before he sat back with his head against the desk, taking a moment to look at Samantha, so grateful for her coming to him.

"You know Davidson threatened to return me to the ward if I ever failed?" She likely did know, he didn't doubt it was in his file somewhere. "It's closed down now. He can't do that. Can he?"

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Samantha looked at him seriously. "Yes, you can get over it again," she assured him. "You're resilient, Killian. You're tough. You've been through a lot, and you've still become one of the kindest, bravest men I know." They had been through a lot together, too. She'd been there right by his side in many of his worst moments. Most of them were haunted by the same, towering shadow. Sloane. But this moment, this horrible moment in the ward, he had faced it without her. Much like Violet, she wished she could have been there for him.

"I know," she chuckled, shaking her head. "She's quite fearless. She reminds me of you when you were younger." She smiled. And even now, you two are very alike." She doubted anyone could tell she was adopted. Violet was so very much like her father—brave and reckless, with a strong sense of justice and an almost dangerous urge to protect the people she loved.

"First pick of Disney movies? Now that's an honor." But of course, Samantha was a mom and would let the kids choose anyway. And as long as it wasn't Paw Patrol, she would indeed be quite satisfied. "I wish there was a cool dog show about HR reps," she laughed, "at least Darlene would think I have a great, exciting job." But then again, she used to have an exciting job. Too exciting, actually.

She shook her head. "Don't be sorry," she corrected him firmly, "you're not the first agent to need a break, ok? It happens to everyone. And I'll knock the teeth out of any handler who tries to give you crap about it." Killian probably knew she meant it. "I sent three agents after him, they're based in New York. I haven't gotten any updates yet. But you did everything you needed to. You warned me fast enough for me to send backup." She hoped it would reassure him a little bit, since he was so much "by the book".

[1117-yungi]

SONG BIRD. jung wooyoung x fem!reader [4.8k]

in the infamous lounge, a singer performs for the one man who always breaks her heart — the untouchable owner. their reunions crackles with passion and pain. in his world of glittering façades, love is never enough, and you're left singing to ghosts of what could have been.

genre. rich!wooyoung, club owner!wooyoung, singer!reader, smut, angsty, toxic situationship, he is kinda insufferable but its hot, little porn with a lot of plot

warnings. toxic woo, swearing, manipulation, gaslighting, smut, pull-out method (don't do this guys), choking, switch!wooyoung, switch!reader, oral: m receiving, fingering, orgasm denial, pet names: songbird, angel, darling, baby, and bunny, hair pulling, praise and degradation, bittersweet ending, they're not good for each other guys!!!, size kink if u squint, implied dub-con tbh, power play dynamics, let me know if theres anymore!

note. hide the scissors from wooyoung rn

the dim haze of the lounge cast long shadows on the plush, velvet booths and the lacquered piano. smoke curled lazily in the air, mingling with the faint clink of glasses and the low hum of idle chatter. you stood beneath the spotlight, a figure draped in silver, your dress catching the low light like a thousand tiny stars. your voice pouring over the room like honey over jagged glass. the microphone in your hand felt heavy, but nothing was heavier than the weight in your chest as you sang.

each word slipped from your lips, the kind of voice that made people stop in their tracks, made them feel things they'd been too afraid to feel. your voice was sweet, but raspy in the best way possible — the crowd watched with newfound fascination, the other acts providing background music for the illegal activities. but you, you were the main act. though tonight, your eyes weren’t scanning the crowd. you weren't looking for applause. you were looking for him.

and there he sat in the corner, a million-dollar smile on his face, surrounded by men in sharp suits and women with sharp laughs and seductive stares. his watch gleamed under the dim light, a beacon of everything he was — untouchable, unattainable, a mirage with no end. but when your voice reached him, his head turned ever so slightly, like the string you had tied between them had just been tugged. his eyes had found yours.

you didn't falter, didn't let your emotions bleed into the lyrics. not yet.

you'd met him before, on nights much like this one, when the world seemed coated in gold and the air hummed with possibility. he was the kind of man you never really forgot; the man who walked into a room and owned it without hesitation. a man made of money, of charm, of tragedy.

tonight, though, there was something different in his gaze. as you sang the final note, he rose, leaving behind the world that adored him, the entourage, the whispers. he walked backstage towards where you were.

"you always knew how to break my heart," wooyoung murmured, his voice like bourbon, smooth but burning. it made you freeze in your tracks, turning your head towards the voice.

"and you always knew how to make me let you," you replied, your lips curving into a bittersweet, forced smile.

it was always the same between them. he was a million-dollar man, but his worth was his undoing. you were the girl who saw through it all and loved him anyway, knowing he could never stay.

"play me a song, darling," he said, his voice low, as if he knew this moment might be their last.

you didn’t ask why. you never did.

fingers trembling as the two of you sat down on the bench of the piano you had practiced at for ages. with a deep sigh, you played the melody that lived in your heart, the one you'd written for him long ago. the room around them disappeared, the crowd, the smoke, the lights. it was just them, a girl in silver and a man who carried the weight of the world in his eyes. even backstage, away from the crowd, it felt suffocating.

when the final note faded, he pressed his lips together in a firm, his tongue playing with the ring in his lip. he let his fingers ghost over the keys, not playing, just feeling. "you deserve better than this," he murmured, his gaze distant, his hands now stilling against one of the keys, his pinky grazing yours. "you deserve more than me, angel."

"and yet, here you are." you replied.

he laughed softly, the sound bittersweet yet intoxicating. "yeah. here i am."

for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you, a singer and a man who could never be yours. he leaned in, his lips brushing your forehead, his warmth lingering even as he pulled away.

"you deserve better," wooyoung said again, softer this time. then, just like always, he was gone.

you stayed at the piano, staring at the spot where he'd sat, your heart aching but your resolve steady. your eyes moved up to the piano, staring at the empty glass he left behind. you hadn't even realized that he brought it with him. a tear slipped down your cheek, but you wiped it away, knowing you'd sing the song again tomorrow night.

for the million-dollar man who never really belonged to you, but who’d stolen your soul all the same.

the lounge felt heavier tonight, like the air itself was steeped in tension. the usual haze of smoke clung tighter, the shadows darker, the applause quieter. they all felt like ghosts, lingering echoes of the night before. and you, you were here again, draped in the same silver as always. you noticed your fingers trembling as you adjusted the microphone stand, your heart heavy with a burden only he could bring. you didn't bother scanning the crowd this time — you already knew he was here.

he always was, especially when you swore you wouldn't let him get to you again.

you hadn't seen him since last night, but you could still taste the remnants of his touch on your skin, still hear the soft murmur of his voice, still feel the weight of his words pressing on your chest. you deserve better than this. you deserve more than me, angel.

it was the same old routine. the promises of distance, the whisper of something more, followed by his sudden disappearance. but this time, there was something different in the air — a thick tension that gnawed at your insides, something you couldn't shake.

when the crowd settled into their usual spot, half-distracted by their own secrets, the music began. you took the stage like clockwork, the spotlight cutting through the gloom. the microphone felt colder tonight, like it was in on the game. as you sang, your voice wavered, only for a moment, when you caught his silhouette at the corner table.

but he wasn't alone this time.

she was draped across his arm, some attractive woman with a laugh like crystal shards, glittering and sharp. she leaned into him, whispering something that made him smirk — that signature smirk as he played with his lip ring. but those fox like eyes? oh, they were on you. they always were.

the song ended, and the crowd clapped, but you barely heard it. he was already standing, already moving toward you as his hands clapped for you; it seemed taunting. the woman that had previously accompanied at his table barely seemed to notice when he had left.

"you're something else tonight, angel," he murmured when he reached you, his voice low and familiar. the way he said angel made your stomach twist, equal parts longing and fury.

"don't start," you said, stepping down from the stage. you tried to walk past him, but his hand caught your wrist, firm but careful, like he knew exactly how far he could push.

"start what?" his lips curved into a crooked grin, but his grip didn't loosen. his gaze flicked to the other patrons around him, then back to you, something unreadable behind that cool, confident exterior. "just giving you a compliment. you look beautiful, as always."

you glared at him, yanking your arm free. "you should be telling her that."

his grin faltered for half a second, but it was enough to make you feel the smallest spark of satisfaction. still, he recovered quickly, his tone dropping into something softer, almost apologetic. almost.

"don’t tell me you're jealous."

you laughed bitterly, stepping back, needing space. "of her? no. of whatever hold you have on me? yeah, maybe."

wooyoung's expression shifted, the smirk giving way to something darker, sharper. he stepped closer, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "you're the one who keeps singing for me. what does that say, angel?"

you stiffened, trying to keep your gaze steady, but something inside you recoiled. that voice. that look. the way he made everything feel like it was slipping through your fingers, made you doubt your own choices. you wanted to hit him, to scream, to walk out and never come back. but the worst part? he wasn't wrong.

"you don’t own me," you said, your voice trembling, not with fear, but with anger — at him, at yourself, at everything.

he tilted his head, his smile softening, dangerous. "don't i?"

"i told you," he continued, his lips curling slightly as he drew away, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his glass. "i'm not here for anything long-term. you're not the kind of girl who gets a happy ending, not with me. but i do like the way you play along."

"play along?" you repeated, voice thick with disbelief. "is that what you think this is?"

his gaze darkened, though his smile never wavered. "you're a smart girl. you know exactly what this is. you always have." his eyes softened for a moment, almost like a mask slipping. like even he didn't believe the facade. "but don't get too attached. i'm not the one you should be putting your heart into."

a sharp, bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling exposed, vulnerable in front of him. "i know who you are," you said, voice steady but laced with a cold edge. "i'm not an idiot."

"good," wooyoung said, still leaning in, but this time there was something colder in his touch when his fingers brushed yours. his eyes held that cruel, knowing gleam. "but don't act like you don't want to be a little bit more than this."

you didn't say anything. you couldn’t. because, despite everything you told yourself, part of you did want more. you were tired of the games, the lies, the promises that never meant anything. but another part of you… the part that still clung to that impossible hope, the part that still wanted him to be something better than what he showed the world… that part wouldn't let you walk away.

and he knew it.

you watched him turn on his heel, his expensive shoes clicking against the polished floor as he started to walk away. you felt the pull, the magnetism of him drawing you in even as you knew you should turn and leave.

but then, just before he disappeared into the crowd, he glanced back over his shoulder with that same smirk, the one that never quite reached his eyes. "i'’m not done with you yet, songbird," he called out, his voice dripping with that familiar, dangerous promise.

the next few hours dragged on like a blur of muted lights and endless faces. the lounge seemed to buzz louder, more insistent, as if the world were trying to drown out the weight of the space between you and him. but you couldn't escape it. not when you could still feel the pressure of his fingers on your skin, the weight of his words on your chest.

when you finally left the stage, the air around you felt too thin, too oppressive. you hadn't seen him leave, but you knew he was gone. you always knew. he didn't need to announce his exit. it was his absence that left you hollow.

you went to the dressing room to get out of your stage outfit and into your normal clothes. it was routine and becoming old, but you hadn't made an effort to leave. you pushed through the crowd of people, smiling at their empty compliments before freezing as you tried to excuse yourself by pushing past a patron.

but wooyoung was standing there, looking as if he'd never left. his dark eyes locked onto yours instantly, the room falling away as if it were just the two of you, frozen in time. the crowd moved around you, oblivious, but you couldn't stop looking at him. couldn't stop feeling the electric pull between you.

"you always do this," you murmured, half to yourself, though your words carried across the silence.

"do what?" he asked, his voice cool but laced with something dangerous. the smirk was back, that crooked grin that never seemed to falter, like he enjoyed the power he had over you. like he knew the exact moment to strike.

"you know what i mean," you said, trying to steady yourself. but your heart was racing, your pulse quickening as he stepped closer, narrowing the gap between you.

he reached out, fingertips brushing against the back of your hand — light, gentle, but the touch sent a shiver through you.

the heat between you, the tension that had built up all night, was palpable. it was always like this, when he came close. the air turned thick, suffocating, and you couldn't tell if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer. but you didn't have to decide. not yet.

he didn't wait for an invitation. without breaking eye contact, he reached out, a single finger brushing your arm — just enough to send a wave of electricity surging through your skin.

"come with me," he said simply. "i don't like waiting."

his eyes scanned your face, his gaze sharp, like he could see past every defense, every wall you'd tried to build around your heart. for a moment, he said nothing, just watching you. watching the battle in your eyes.

there was no hesitation. you knew what it meant when he said that. he wasn't asking. he was demanding — as always. you had learned long ago that when he made these kinds of demands, you couldn't say no, not really. but he always gave you an opportunity to for it.

"your friends won't like that," you said, a small attempt at playing it cool, but the words felt weak as they left your mouth. you knew it was pointless.

he raised an eyebrow. "the only person i'm interested in right now is you."

he didn't wait for you to respond. instead, he turned, almost arrogantly, like he owned the space around him, and without a word, you followed him. his presence was commanding, and you could feel the weight of it behind you. you kept your distance at first, though every step you took felt like it pulled you deeper into his orbit.

you clenched your fists, trying to fight the tremor in your hands, trying to ignore how badly your body was betraying you as you trailed behind him. you wanted to say something sharp, something cold, something that would break the connection between you. but he was already too close. his presence was too much, suffocating in the best way. and you followed him without question. god, you were weak.

"i'm not playing your games anymore, wooyoung," you said, your mouth moving faster than your thoughts could comprehend your voice wavered, and you cursed yourself for it.

he stopped in his tracks, about to reach the exit of the lounge. his lips quirked up at the corner, an almost fond smile creeping into his expression as if your defiance only made him more interested. "you say that, but you know you like it. you like the chase. the danger."

the words hit harder than they should have. you looked away, your chest tightening as he stepped even closer, until there was nowhere for you to go.

"then let me end it," he said, his voice quieter, and this time, there was no smirk, no cruel amusement. only an intensity that left your breath caught in your throat. "come with me." wooyoung looked like he would have gotten on his knees for you right then, pleading for you.

you opened your mouth to protest, to tell him to leave you alone for good, but the words wouldn’t come. so instead, you found yourself nodding, against your better judgment, against the part of you that knew this would only make things worse.

the crowd was still swirling around you, but it felt like you were in a different world. the moment he stepped closer, his hand grazing your arm as he guided you toward the exit, everything else faded. you were lost in him again.

no turning back.

the drive to his apartment was short but felt like hours. the silence between you was thick, suffocating, each passing second dragging you deeper into the inevitable. he hum of the engine only adding to the tension. you sat next to him, your hands gripping your bag tighter than necessary, the familiar burn in your chest threatening to crack you open. he didn't speak, didn’t ask you any questions. he just drove, as if this moment was already scripted. you were a part of the plan, whether you wanted to be or not. you couldn't stop your mind from racing, from thinking of everything you’d tried to ignore — the past you’d buried, the future you were too afraid to face.

when you reached the building, he didn't wait for you to say anything. his hand was on the small of your back, guiding you up the elevator without a word.

inside, his apartment was exactly what you remembered: sterile, cold, all glass and steel, but still holding that dangerous allure. the kind of space that made you feel insignificant, like a blip in a world too big for you to understand. the moment the door closed behind you, the outside world seemed to vanish. all that remained was the quiet atmosphere of his space and the man standing in front of you, looking at you as if you were the only thing that mattered, and the only thing he could destroy.

there was no pretense this time. no smiles. just that intensity that always left you breathless. he stepped toward you slowly, his gaze never leaving yours, until you were backed against the edge of the sleek, black sofa.

his hands reached for you, but this time, there was no game in his touch. it wasn't the same as it had been before, when he made you feel like a toy he could play with and discard. this was different. this was raw.

"you keep pretending you don't want this," he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, his thumb lightly brushing your lips. "but you do."

you wanted to argue, wanted to push him away, but your body betrayed you again. the warmth of his touch, the deep pull of his presence, was too much to fight. you wanted to say no. you wanted to walk away.

but you didn't.

his lips were on yours before you could say anything else. a kiss that was all heat and demand, a kiss that made you forget everything but him. his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

and maybe, just maybe, you couldn’t get enough of him either.

you should have known better. you should have walked away when you had the chance. but instead, you stayed. you always did. his touch overwhelmed you completely, you couldn't bring yourself to fight it. because deep down, you knew you were already lost.

you grasp onto his expensive shirt, pulling him even closer until the two of you fall down onto his lavish couch. his lip ring felt cool against your soft lips, making your mind become foggy with pleasure. he chuckled into your mouth, as if he could tell you enjoyed his piercing. he adjusted the position, resting between your legs. your legs naturally wrap around his hips, making him rut into your clothed core. you gasped at the feeling, whining against his lips.

wooyoung pulled away from your lips, much to your dismay, before he started to kiss along your neck, biting down and sucking on the flesh to create a dark mark. you mewled at the feeling, your back arching off the couch as you grabbed onto him with a newfound aggression. he whimpered from how tight your hold was on his long hair, providing him with pain mixed with pleasure.

at this revelation, you tugged his head back by hair and returned the favor. you decorated his neck with dark marks, sucking harshly on his sweet spot, which was easy enough to find. his slutty hips rubbed against your core desperately, clearly enjoying the feeling as he moaned shamelessly while you felt his cock hardening.

he tried to take control of the situation again, but you didn't let him. you flipped the both of you around, now straddling him before ripping his shirt off by the buttons. he frowned, letting out a whine, "that was expensive, baby."

"you can afford it." you whispered with a grin on your face before taking one of his nipples into your mouth. he gasped at the sensitivity as your tongue swirled around his perky, hard nipple. wooyoung had never experienced anything like this, always being the dominant. and he certainly didn't expect you to be like this. what else are you hiding from him? after a few more moments of teasing him, you crawled down to where he needed you the most.

you tugged down his pants, leaving them pooling at his ankles. oh, he was big. somehow you knew that. you gave his tip a swift kitty lick, his body visibly shaking. his eyes stayed on yours as you shoot him an innocent bat of your eyelashes. "fuckin' brat," he whispered, reaching down to your hair while he whimpered while your tongue swirled around his tip, gathering the pre-cum that leaked out.

he brushed a few stray hairs away from your face as your mouth worked him up and down in perfect rhythm, bobbing up and down. one of your hands kneaded his thighs while the other played with his balls. wooyoung let out a desperate moan at the sudden touch, he hadn't even noticed how sensitive he really was. all for your touch. you were both drunk on each other — without any alcohol in your systems. besides his very few sips of whiskey.

your jaw was hurting, pleasurably stretched by his cock, but the sensation of his tip hitting the back of your throat was too addictive to care about the pain. you hollowed your cheeks, trying to fit every vein that popped out as wooyoung breathed heavily, holding back with all his might not to mouth-fuck you. he felt dumb from the pleasure, growing more and more needy and desperate.

"you're gonna make me cum if you keep doing this, angel," wooyoung laughed with a whine as your tongue glided against the underside of his length, sending goosebumps all over his body. unable to hold back any longer, he harshly yanked you down, forcing his entire length into your mouth, his tip deliciously hitting the back of your throat, making you gag.

you moaned at the sudden rough treatment as he rolled his hips into your mouth. despite the intensity, your tongue continued to lick and satisfy him, while he used your mouth like his personal toy, sending vibrations through your entire being.

you could feel him twitch inside you — he was almost there, ready to release. your hands pulled and kneaded his balls, giving them one cheeky little squeeze, pushing against them before pulling off of him, denying his orgasm.

wooyoung whined at the loss of your touch, pouting before raising up. he grabbed your throat and pulled you against his lips with an unmistakable hunger and desperation. he stripped off your clothes while kicking off his pants that you left. he picked you up with ease, carrying you into his room and onto the bed.

and then you ended up on his lap, with his long fingers stuffed deep inside you, curling and making a mess of you. you couldn't even remember how you had gotten into this position, too drunk and intoxicated on the feeling of his fingers hitting all the right spots. you rolled your hips eagerly, making him grin as he watched you with a smile on his face, clearly getting off on how he was making you feel.

"you're such an eager bunny, baby," he murmured over the pretty moans ringing in his ears as you leaned back against his chest, head resting on his shoulder, while he whispered the filthiest things in your ear. his hot breath tickled your skin. god, he was like a drug. "humping my fingers like you're in heat."

his thumb was rubbing your clit, making your toes curl. his words made you embarassed and your face hot, but you didn't dare correct him. "no matter where you go, you always come back to me. won't you, pretty girl?" he teased, your moans answering him.

he slid another finger inside you easily, stretching you even more. your eyes widened from the sensation; it was a mix of pleasure and pain that made tears brim in your eyes. a whimper left your throat, going straight to wooyoung's hard cock that rested against your thigh.

your tiny hand went straight to his cock, trying to stimulate him as his fingers worked your dripping cunt, moving in and out, curling, hitting all the right spots. he groaned quietly before kissing you, his tongue exploring your mouth. you tried your best to kiss him back, saliva pooling at the corner of your lips as your vision was slowly going blank, stars starting to appear. your body trembled under his relentless pace, lips parted, gasping. but he started pulling his fingers out of you.

"woo," you whined which made him scoff, watching you looking like a doll. his perfect, little doll. he slid his fingers covered with your slick into his mouth, a hum vibrating through him while swirling his tongue around them while your mouth watered at the sight. you took a heavy breath, and without speaking, reached out, pulling his fingers from his mouth, looking at him expectantly.

he swallowed hard, the look you gave him was flipping a switch in his brain. "go on, take them into your mouth."

you obliged, sliding three of his long digits into your mouth. wooyoung groaned, his eyes closing as he could fell the back of your throat at his fingertips. he couldn't take it anymore, and clearly you couldn't either.

you aligned him at your entrance, your pussy practically begging for him to fill you. that signature smug smile remained as his eyes held yours, and you gripped his shoulders as his tip pushed through your walls, stretching you deliciously as he finally bottomed out. he paused, letting you adjust to his length, and you gasped before nodding him to continue.

he began to move, each thrust slow but steady, reaching deep, hitting that perfect spot inside you. your vision blurred with pleasure as he drove into you, his pace intensifying, while his lips found yours again. he could tell you were trying to hold your moans back, and that wasn't sliding by him. he gripped your throat tightly, pulling away from the messy kiss. "sing for me, baby," he moaned.

and you did. you moaned for him, your back arching off his mattress and into his chest as his pace quickened, thrusts growing deeper. they started out calculated but soon turned sloppy and messy. his lips pressed against neck. each movement, each kiss, each moan that escaped his lips only pushed you closer to the edge until you couldn't hold back anymore.

your hands gripped his shoulders tightly, fingers digging into him as the building tension finally snapped, sending you spiraling into release. your nails had dug crescents into his shoulders, drawing blood slightly. and then building tension finally snapped, sending you spiraling into release. you clenched so hard around his cock, pleasure consuming you completely with your body trembling in his arms as you released your orgasm. his hips never faltered as he rode you through the high.

wooyoung's thrusts slowed as he guided you through the last waves of pleasure, his own breaths turning ragged. "come on, baby," you whispered to him, trying to catch your breath slightly. he shivered at your tone, trying to chase his own high. "cum for me." you commanded, making him whine while pulling out of you quickly. his hand jerked his cock once then twice, and warmth spilled onto your thighs as he held you close, his load shooting out onto your plush skin. he fell down beside of you after every drop left him.

after leaving for a moment to retrieve a towel, he dragged the fabric to clean you and him up. he tossed it aside and held you close to him, his fingers grazing against your skin.

when he finally pulled back, his breathing heavy, he looked at you with that same inscrutable expression. "i'm not going to let you go," he said, his voice thick, almost possessive. "not this time."

you didn't say anything. there was nothing to say. you knew you were already lost. your breath was shallow, as you tried to forget the words, tried to remember that he didn’t matter. that he couldn’t hurt you anymore. his words were just empty promises, as always.

he had already left his mark. the damage was done. and you, despite everything, knew you'd sing for him again and again.

even if it meant losing yourself in the process.

[c0n-fus3d]

𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝙰 𝙱𝚘𝚢.

(Older!Powder x fem!reader)

I'm sorry but I finished ep 1 of act 3 and had to write this to get my emotions out about ekko and powder being a thing in an alternative reality bcz just RAHHHFHSHEHSHHS my gay ass is crying (no offense to the timebomb shippers, you do you!! If you like this that's cool💪💪) ENGLISH ISN'T MY NATIVE LANGUAGE, IF I MADE SOME SPELLING MISTAKES I'M SORRY ALSO SPOILERS FOR ACT 3!!

Warnings: uhhh just angst, mostly angst, this is for my girlies who might be feeling the same

༺ღ༒ ༺ღ༒ ༺ღ༒ ༒ღ༻

You've always liked Powder, every since you were kids, and still when you are teenagers.

Their was always something about her. The way she made the most creative inventions, the way she always seemed to have some sort of spark in her eyes. Her laugh, her hair, her eyes, it's hard for you to explain the feelings you have towards her.

You knew the way Vi's death was heavy on her, you could see that with the days, and soon years that came after. You we're always trying to be there to support her, make her feel a little better. You gave her space when she needed it, and we're there for her when she needed you the most.

And then there was Ekko.

You never hated Ekko, you 𝙙𝙤𝙣'𝙩 hate Ekko. he was a good guy, you got along with him. He was around Powder nearly just as much as you we're, maybe even a little more. When you were around Powder, he wouldn't take long to show up as well. You didn't mind.

But you couldn't deny that you we're jealous of him, of Ekko. The way he charmed his way into Powder's heart over the years. With his sketches, ideas, personality, kindness and understanding. You wanted what him and Powder had as if what you already had wasn't enough for you. You could see the way she looked at him, how 𝙝𝙚 looked at her the same way.

You often wished it was you instead of him. You try to forget about your jealousy, push it asside. You try to push your jealousy and selfishness asside, keep everything natural between you three. But it got harder and harder the more time went on.

Ekko has been acting strange recently, or at least that's what Powder told you. How he 'seems not to remember anything' and how he says these things about how in a dream her and Vi we're completely different. You noticed yourself too, how he was more around then usual. You assumed it was because of his project or whatever.

Now you find yourself here, on the dance floor in the last drop. Inventions around you everywhere as music and colorful lights fill the bar. You look into the crowd, trying to spot Powder. It took you a whole 5 minutes to finally spot her, but to no suprise, Ekko was there. On the dance floor, with her. Dancing together to the beat of the music like it was just the two of them. You tried to move your eyes away from the sight, let them be happy and together. But the jealousy ate you from the inside out, this all just left a bitter taste on your tongue. It all got so overwhelming so quickly, so you decide to leave the place before you explode and do something stupid.

So you decide to go out to Powder's little Hideout for now and go back once you've cooled down. You look at the massive invention across the room, stunned as fuck how they made this. You don't want to pay too much attention to it though, so you continue walking through the massive space before sitting down in front of the small memorial that Powder made for Vi.

You lighten the place up before just.. Sitting there. You sigh, looking at the picture sat on the desk. Vi always knew you had a thing for Powder, she always encouraged you to tell her how you felt. Whenever the situation was on your mind, you'd go here. You'd talk, like she was still there. Because to you, she was. To everyone, she still was. Now wasn't any different, you talked about what has been going on recently. With Ekko, Powder, and everything else.

"I just.. Don't know what to do, I know I'm supposed to be happy for them.. Ekko is a great guy, a-and if they become a thing, I'll be fine with it but.. Theirs this voice in the back of my mind that just doesn't seem to go away.." You groan, your head in your hands as you thought for a moment.

You knew you couldn't hide your feelings forever. If Powder wasn't going to feel the same way towards you, you might as well tell her what you've been feeling all this time. Just for an answer, a yes or a no. Anything. If she didn't feel anything as well then at least she'd know.

"I'll tell her, tonight. Like you always wanted me to do.. I'll.. I'll get this over with, okay? For you."

You found yourself walking back towards the last drop, but then you see Powder, going in the direction of what you knew to be the place where Vi always took her to. So you decided to follow.

If only you weren't blind enough to see Ekko walking along with her.

You climbed up to the place, heart racing in your chest as you tried to think about the things you could say. Your mind was running a million miles and you tried desperately to calm your nerves.

You we're finally gonna do it, you we're gonna tell her how you feel.

But just as you nearly reach the top, you see her. And Ekko.

Their kissing.

In front of your eyes.

Your heart dropped, hope that you knew was useless in the end shattered as you saw the image.

Wrong fucking timing. You stood there, frozen in time before quickly getting out of there. Trying to hold back the tears that we're threatening to fall.

She likes Ekko. She only likes Ekko. It was never you. Not in childhood, not in teenage years.

She likes a boy. That boy.

Your not that boy, and for now, you had to live with that.

You we're never going to being the one kissing her. It was always going to be him in the end.

[kiryoutann]

another sneak peek because i have yet to find it in me to post the full thing. warning(s): MDNI, sexual contents, graphic description of blood, wounds, burn scars, and violence. past-torture, possible dacryphilia.

“Those scars…” Your voice wavered, and you had to pause to steady it. “Were they from your time in the military?”

Watching those pretty lips tremble, tears marring your beautiful face, he felt a sickening clench in his chest. Part of him hated seeing you so sad, while another swelled with something akin to misplaced pride – that this angel was weeping over scars so old they had long since stopped hurting him.

Scars from battles the old Simon had fought years ago. Scars he had seen as part of his creation, marks he bore without feeling.

“Some from service, yeah. Others… more personal-like.” He said it nonchalantly. In his perspective, as proof that it didn’t hurt anymore, didn't need to numb it with ice like he did in the past—so, sweet thing, stop crying over him.

As if that were possible. He could tell you that it happened years ago, but it doesn't matter; it wouldn't lessen the pain even if your human life spanned a hundred centuries. Your tongue seared, heart sliced—someone touched the one you love with the most brutal violence they could choose in this world.

The image must have been absurd—the two of you completely naked in front of each other, yet instead of continuing, you weep over him. But now that you’ve seen it—those scars etched so cruelly and eternally upon his flesh—how do you look away?

"Why... why would anyone want to hurt you?” Your voice trembled, tracing that scar near his ribs that had caught your attention since you first saw it. It stood out, raised and knotted in a way that spoke of a cruel blade—making you wince at the thought of the pain. “Is… is this from your time in the military too?”

“Yeah,”

“What happened?”

Without any real weight, he said, “Got meself ‘anged by the ribs once,” in a light intonation as if it were some kind of joke.

But it wasn’t. My God, you wished it was, but it wasn’t, judging by the scars.

Despite his effort, it couldn’t mask the horror he’d experienced. Your breath hitches in a sob, your hand trying to cover your mouth. Your airway constricts as you imagine how it must have felt for him then. Hanged by the ribs, feeling your skin tear from holding your weight, flesh on display like they do in a slaughterhouse.

And he still manages to shush you, drawing your head to his chest in a tight hug like you’re the one who’s been through it all.

“Twern’t nothin’ – doesn’t even ‘urt no more.”

Pressed against his skin, you seek the usual solace that his heartbeat brings. But your heart remains unsettled, a lingering question nagging at your mind and tongue, refusing to let you find peace until it's voiced.

Raising your head slightly, chin resting upon his chest, you meet his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. "And... and the burn scars?”

“House fire during a mission.”

You know that’s not the full truth, but you don’t dare to press it, choosing to spare your heart from more details of his agonies.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” You said.

Simon gave a small hum in response. Reaching up, he wiped away your tears with his thumb. “Then stop cryin', love. 'Urts more to see yer pretty face all red and puffy.”

The hands around your jaw bring you closer. This time, he's the first to initiate this new kiss, closing his lips around yours with almost hesitant caution. And you want to cry—you want to cry from how gentle his touch is, and yet someone has handled him in the cruelest way possible.

[sneak peek of chapter 10 of "A MAN'S HEART IS TRULY A WRETCHED, WRETCHED THING."]

[scrunglepaws]

"I come from a big family; lots of siblings. Too many to talk about individually without taking all your time, so I'll just pick a few. Hmm... I suppose I'll start off with the eldest, Silas. I think he was about the best big brother someone could have. Strong, protective, loyal, kind-hearted. I looked up to him a lot as a little kid. Now that we're both grown, I find him a bit tiresome. Er- not for any bad reasons, though! It's just that his mannerisms have changed ever since he set out to sea. Sailors must be a rowdy bunch because he's just so loud and boisterous anymore. Between him, his wife, and his flock of kids; it's just a LOT of chaos to deal with all at once. Saps the energy right out of me, you know? He's a good person though, and a better son than me. He supports his family and is able to regularly send money to our parents, too. Still helping out with the farm even after he left! I'm happy for his success."

"Out of all my siblings, I spent the most time with Nine. We're pretty close in age and just sort of ended up being more of the oddballs in the family. I was because of, uh, my interest in magic… And having two tails… But Nine was sort of outlandish on purpose. Because she was the youngest, she often felt overshadowed and wanted to stand out. She's a girl? Well then, she doesn't want anything to do with femininity. She's named Nina? That's boring; she'll come up with her own name. No one likes to hang out with Tails? Well then, she will! Eh… heheh… Eh… It was nice to have one sibling to confide in and share secrets with now and then. I even told her about how I was baffled by romance and never wanted to marry. Instead of calling me weird, she made a pact with me to never get married either! Well… Until she met that girl, Fiona, and they started dating, but… It's fine. She's not beholden to some dumb promise we made when she was 12. We mostly drifted apart when I moved out anyway."

"Nowadays I'm not particularly close with any of my siblings. Or my parents. Growing up, I was more likely to keep to myself. It's um, sort of embarrassing, but I was kind of afraid of my family? I'd get this from everyone now and again, but my two older brothers especially liked to say that I was actually a changeling. You know, that their real brother was replaced as an infant by a spriggan, leaving behind me: a changeling. A… Fae creature. They said that Mother and Father would find me out soon enough and abandon me in the forest, back where I belong. Or that they'd beat me so I'd confess my origin and return the "real" Miles. Apparently my parents left my older brother, Manny, in the forest when they suspected him of the same thing, but he proved himself by making his way back home. C-Clearly just things they made up! A-And I don't have nightmares about it now that I'm grown… But, uh… I am ashamed to admit that I purposefully never really spent time with Manny because of that. I just- I didn't want to give them any more reasons to suspect me. He was a very strange kid, even to me. I regret never trying to understand him. I think maybe… We might have had a lot in common. And not because of anything to do with fae."

For characters!

If any of you have family, what's your family relationship like?

More character questions!!

[saraloveslove]

A day has passed since Liam was buried to rest forever and I feel I have to express what I have in the depth of my heart.

We all agree that we all wished for a private funeral where only Liam's true people attended and where those people were free to be themselves, but this wasn't it. Maybe because Liam's family wanted a respectful public goodbye or, most likely, because they knew they couldn't avoid it (the fact syco's people was there made me question if the family had actually a say in keeping the ceremony totally private).

So, paps were allowed but with strict rules and the details weren't disclosed until the very last. They did everything necessary to keep the dignity of the ceremony. And they did it.

In this scenario, I want to point out at what the boys did: they discussed it prior and they decided to show there separately and to interact the less possibile. The fact that there were paps imposed them to wear their TM trenchcoats but they did it in silence, they maintained the lowest profile possible. They sacrified their grieve to not offer any kind of side to paps for taking pictures of the "reunion", knowing too well how disgusting outlets were waiting for nothing but that. They didn't give anyone any chance to make it about One Direction; they made it only about Liam. They gave him all the respect and dignity he deserved that they only could give him, because they only truly loved him. (Apart his family, of course). This was the biggest final act of love they could do for him, and they did.

Ohana means family, and family means nobody is left behind

Another mention goes to Cheryl and the way she protected Bear. They very likely had their private moment and she kept him away from paps, disgusting people and speculations. I could think what I think about her as a woman in regard of her "relationship" with Liam, but as a mother she has my whole true respect.

And last, to Karen and Geoff. As a parent myself, I cannot even image what kind of devastation has been living in their hearts for all this time; and yet, just because I am a mother, I can perfectly imagine that. I have never stopped thinking at them since that cursed day, and the dignity they showed is something I admire deeply. I don't think I would be able to, if I were in their shoes.

Karen, Geoff, Ruth, Nicola, Bear, Harry, Louis, Niall and Zayn: I hope you can feel our love, I hope you can feel our warm hug. You are not alone in the grief; we'll do our best to keep Liam's memory alive and teach the world what beautiful man he was, and we'll do our best to keep his legacy alive, avoiding his death was invain. Just show us the path, and we'll follow it.

And last, to Liam: you'll live forever ❤️

[lillypad-monopoly]

Wild Life Episode 5 Thoughts

(Except I'm insane about Martyn's ep)

LIFE SERIES TRIVIA is DIABOLICAL! The watchers literally being like "how well do you guys know your pain and suffering?" (also sorry only winners remember theory truthers)

The way Grian and Scar are such bitter ex-soulmates that Mumbo has to point it out is hilarious. (also them getting even and saying "Just like Third Life" hurt my heart)

Grian not remembering iconic moments from his own series is so funny. What do you mean he only knows Martyn beheaded Ren with an axe from fanart? Grian gaining possession of the Red Winter Axe was a whole plot point.

MUMBO FIRST OUT! IN SESSION 5! The canary curse is broken for real now guys but at what cost.

Grian standing on the ruins of the tower by himself going through the five stages of grief over Mumbo's death as the sun rises in the background is a gorgeous piece of fanart waiting to happen

Martyn you didn't need to start the episode by talking about how Ren is providing for you, you're asking for the shipping at this point 🤣

MARTYN YOU DO THE LORE OFC JIMMY AND TANGO WERE OUT FIRST. Also REN YOU WERE LITERALLY IN DOUBLE LIFE. RIP Ren/BigB we know where his true loyalties lie

THE TWO NICKLES MEME BREAKING CONTAINMENT I CAN'T

Ren inviting BigB to join the RenWood Mound alliance WITHOUT REMEMBERING DOUBLE LIFE is so insane I don't even know what to say.

OF COURSE SCAR REMEMBERS THE DESERT DUO FLOWERS I'M GOING TO BE SICK

Martyn and Ren saying they're going to be boat bros. This has been coming since last session but I NEED Joel and Etho to call them out on it

"We're boat boys," MARTYN INTHELITTLEWOOD WHEN I CATCH YOU-

Etho yelling for Bdubs to hit him so they could test if the wildcard affected damage and then Tango going "smack me harder~" in the background was diabolical. Suuuure you guys are all PG.

Etho sitting in a boat for Joel to jump over him feels like some boat boys relationship symbolism I'm not smart enough to explain

So Etho is currently living with team BET, but allied with the Four Gs, and in the family with Gem and Joel. Wildcard Etho is so back!

Of course Impulse immediately remembered the clock question.

Joel boasting about how he immediately knows all the questions is peak Joel form and I would expect nothing less. It is kind of warranted though because everybody else is waffling on the simple ones.

Joel is now two for two on unquestioningly trusting Etho only to have something bad happen to him and not even being mad about it what is wrong with this man 😭

Does Joel have the censor bleep on his keyboard or did he just straight up start swearing at Tango and know they would both have to censor it in post to get the effect that he was also making the noise?

Scott's gone from a creaking fanboy to a body horror situation and I'm living for it (also considering he's agreed to "go wild" this session--am I sensing a Scott corruption arc?)

Scott cutting directly from saying he and Jimmy were never married even though they called each other husbands to a scene WITH Jimmy was kind of an insane choice

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Girldad has been confirmed by Scott as the actual reason for the 4Gs. I still think Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss ImpulseSV is funnier but good to have an official ruling

Scott giving up his life for Pearl and them being good natured about it and calling it therapy! I love them so much!

Lizzie being the only person who's not exicted when a trivia bot spawns is so funny. Even the other players who weren't in all the seasons don't seem to be as miffed by them as she is.

Lizzie's flaming snail arising out of that hole while smiling is potentially the funniest thing I've seen all day. Why did it look like that 🤣

[daisymbin]

34. "you made me believe in us." scoups/jeonghan with happy ending

(p.s. i love that you’re doing these and theyre so good too 🥹/ side note: i chose 34 out all the angst prompts cause it seems like it would hurt less 🥲 idt id survive the rest because the one line alr hurts)

omg you softie 😿 thank you for your kind words & for requesting!! i chose cheol if thats okay with you! if you would still like jeonghan's vers. do let me know!!! hopefully I did it justice 🫶🤍 here's situationship!cheol 🥰 this one's a bit longer then usual, sorry about that 😅

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist!

angst prompt #34: "you made me believe in us."

the car ride home is quiet—too quiet.

seungcheol’s knuckles are white where they grip the steering wheel, his jaw set tight, and his eyes fixed on the road ahead. you sneak a glance at him, your heart sinking at the tension radiating off him in waves.

“cheol?” you ask tentatively, your voice soft. “what’s wrong?”

he doesn’t answer, his lips pressed into a thin line.

the silence stretches on, and the pit in your stomach grows heavier. you know something’s bothering him—he’s never been good at hiding his feelings—but no matter how much you try to reach out, he keeps shutting you down.

by the time you both get home, the air between you is thick with unspoken words. he walks in ahead of you, kicking off his shoes and heading straight for the kitchen without so much as a glance in your direction.

“cheol,” you call out again, following him. “seriously, what’s going on? you’ve been like this all night.”

he doesn’t respond, just pours himself a glass of water and leans against the counter, staring into the sink.

“okay, fine,” you say, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorway. “if you’re not going to talk to me, then at least tell me what i did to piss you off.”

his head snaps up at that, and for a moment, you see something raw in his eyes before he quickly looks away.

“it doesn’t matter,” he mutters, his voice clipped.

“it does matter,” you insist, stepping closer. “cheol, if i did something wrong, just tell me.”

he slams the glass down on the counter, the sound sharp and jarring in the quiet room.

“fine,” he snaps, his voice rising. “you want to know what’s wrong? it’s you. it’s the way you spent the entire night talking to that guy like i wasn’t even there.”

you blink, caught off guard by the anger in his voice. “what are you talking about? he’s just a coworker—”

“i know that,” he interrupts, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “but do you have any idea how it felt? sitting there, watching you laugh and talk with him like... like i didn’t even exist?”

you open your mouth to respond but hesitate, unsure of what to say. his words cut deeper than you expected, and you can feel the weight of his emotions pressing down on you.

“why do you even care, cheol?” you ask finally, your voice shaking. “you’re not even my boyfriend.”

the words hang in the air, sharp and cold.

seungcheol freezes, his expression crumbling as the tension in his shoulders collapses. he stares at you like you’ve just slapped him in the face, and the silence that follows is deafening.

“cheol,” you whisper, closing your eyes as regret over your words quickly settles in you. but seungcheol doesnt move or say anything. though the words are true; you didn't mean to hurt him.

“you made me believe in us,” he says softly, his voice breaking.

his words hit you like a punch to the chest, leaving you breathless.

“what— what do you mean?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

he laughs bitterly, shaking his head as he stares down at the floor. “you made me believe that there could be something here, that this wasn’t just... whatever this is. and stupidly, i let myself hope for more. but clearly, i was wrong.”

the raw vulnerability in his voice makes your heart ache, and for a moment, you can’t find the words to respond.

“cheol,” you say finally, stepping closer. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just... i didn’t know you felt this way.” guilt, heartache and panic sizzles in your blood.

he looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “how could i not? do you have any idea how much you mean to me? how much i care about you? and yet, i’ve been sitting here, pretending like this is enough when it’s not. it’s not enough for me anymore.”

your breath catches in your throat, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

he shakes his head, his lips curling into a sad smile. “maybe i should’ve said something sooner. but now... i don’t know. maybe this was a mistake. i shouldnt—.... maybe i shouldnt have fallen in love.”

for a moment, you’re both frozen in place, the weight of his confession settling over you. has he always felt this way? were you too busy keeping your feelings at bay that you failed to notice his feelings?

you don’t know what to say, every thought in your head scattering as his confession hangs in the air. seungcheol runs a hand down his face, taking a shaky breath as he steps away from you, heading toward the door.

“i’m going to stay at jeonghan’s tonight,” he mutters, his voice strained & cracks. “i can’t do this right now.”

“wait,” you call out, panic rising in your chest. you grab his arm before he can leave, holding on tightly. "don't go, cheol, please."

he turns to look at you, his eyes glassy and filled with pain. “why? so i can keep pretending this doesn’t hurt? so i can keep playing this game where i feel like i mean something to you when i don’t?”

“you do,” you blurt out, your voice trembling as your chest tightens, “you mean everything to me, cheol.”

his breath hitches, and for a moment, he just stares at you, as if trying to figure out if you really mean it.

before you can lose your nerve, you step closer, cupping his face in your hands. “i don’t want you to leave,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “i cant—... just, i can't lose you.”

the tension between you snaps like a rubber band, and suddenly, you’re pulling him down into a kiss. it’s desperate and messy, filled with all the emotions you’ve been holding back for so long.

seungcheol freezes for a split second before he melts into you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kisses you back just as fervently.

when you finally pull away, both of you are breathless, his forehead resting against yours.

“do you mean it?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “are you really saying you want this—want us?”

you nod, tears streaming down your face. you don't know how else to reassure seungcheol that you feel the same, that you want the same, that you want him, all of him. your voice; still shaking, still trembling with nerves over all your unsaid feelings; you say the one thing you're sure will get him to finally understand, "I love you, cheol, i love you, i love you so please,"

the sound of your sniffling and light hiccups fills in the gentle, comforting silence that settles over the both of you as seungcheol's eyes searched yours. then, a shaky laugh finally escapes him when he sees it, when he sees the fondness in your eyes. his hand reaches up to wipe your tears away and he pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder as he lets out a deep breath. “god, you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting to hear that.”

you cling to him, your heart feeling lighter than it has in weeks. “i’m sorry it took me so long.” you mumbled through your tears.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands cupping your face as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “you’re worth the wait,” he says, as he leans down to kiss your forehead. his voice filled with so much love it makes your chest ache.

you smile, your tears finally slowing as you lean into his touch. “so... does this mean you’re staying?”

he chuckles, nodding as he kisses you again, this time slow and sweet. “i’m not going anywhere, pretty."

[sagesturns]

Quiet Ache

Summary: Chris zones out thinking about old times, only to be hit with a reality check realizing he will never be able to to relive the past anymore.

Warnings: none. Angst.

Your soft giggles filled the low lit room, blending with the low hum of the movie playing on the screen. The room was comforting, like a warm blanket on a cold night, the lamp casting an orange hue in the room. Chris looked over at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as you settled into the blankets, curled up beside him. You always loved just how comfortable and easy everything felt when it came to him. But the couch was a mess, covered with pillows and half-empty mugs and cozy blankets, but none of that mattered. With Chris, nothing ever really seemed to matter except his hand resting against your side, his warm touch, and the light of the TV glowing soft on his features.

"You're impossible," he teased, his voice low and playing. "How do you always laugh at the most random moments?"

You leaned in closer, resting your head on his shoulder. "It's just a funny scene. I can't help it."

Chris chuckled and the sound was low and mellow and you could feel the tension in his body melt away as he relaxed into the couch, his arm slipping around your shoulders. His touch was warm, familiar, the kind that made your heart skip a beat even after this long. You could feel his breathing, steady and soft against your hair. His presence, his scent, the way his body naturally curved into yours-it felt like home.

The movie kept going, but neither of you were really paying much more attention anymore. Every now and then, your laughter rises again, as you crack little jokes or notice silly stuff in the film. For Chris, these were the moments-quiet, without apparent effort, filled with your presence-that mattered the most.

His thumb traced light circles over your arm and for one brief moment, it was as if the world had finally set things right. In an instant, the peace found its place, then shifted just as fast. His thumb halted, his breathing slowing in a manner that grasped your attention. You raised your head slightly, looking up to him.

"Chris?" you asked softly, the slightest hint of concern in your voice. He doesn't meet your gaze straight away; his eyes stare at the screen, though it's obvious he isn't watching anymore. The distant look in his eyes matched his thoughtful expression. His thumb, which had been tracing soft circles on your arm, had stilled, and his entire posture had shifted to tense and distant, like his mind was somewhere far away.

You tilted your head slightly, watching him, waiting for him to snap out of whatever it was that had caught his attention. The silence was extended, and the unease in his body grew. It wasn't like him to zone out this way, especially at a time when you guys were so close, when you could laugh together, when you could enjoy each other.

Chris?" you called again, a little louder this time, with soft concern laced in your voice. It sounded like a faint whisper, reaching for him across a great distance, yet he showed no reaction.

"Chris!" The voice called again, this time louder, and Chris finally seemed to snap back into the present.

"Yo, what's up with you, man?" Matt asked; his voice codified concern and impatience. "You good?"

Chris rubbed his eyes, blinking rapidly as if trying to shake off the fog of whatever thoughts had swept through him. It had all happened so fast, and yet the emotions that flooded him felt so much older, like ghosts from the past.

The question came as a shock to him, the sudden turn back to reality. For a, he didn't know how to respond. He had been lost in thoughts-memories of times when life was so much simpler, when things felt right and you sat on the couch next to him, listening to some silly jokes and feeling like everything in this world was in its rightful place. But that was before.

Now, sitting in the car with his brothers, it all felt like a distant dream.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Chris said quickly, his voice more clipped than usual, trying to mask whatever had just taken hold of him. He forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want them to know how far his thoughts had drifted.

Nick didn't seem convinced. "You sure?" he asked now softer. "You were, like, zoning out there. For real."

Chris's hand fisted on the seatbelt, his knuckles white. For a while, he didn't know how to answer him. He had been lost in thoughts-memories of times when life was so much simpler, when things felt right and you sat on the couch next to him, listening to some silly jokes and feeling like everything in this world was in its rightful place.

The moment held in a tight circle of awkward silence in the car, the tension palpable. Matt looked sideways at Chris, knowing that for some reason he had upset him, but didn't push. Nick shifted uncomfortably in the backseat, not knowing how to respond next.

Chris could sense the weight of their concern for him, yet it only made him feel more withdrawn. How was he to explain what was going on inside his head? How was he to put into words the heartache every time he thought about you, about the way things used to be between you two?

It has been months now. Months since everything changed. Months since the breakup. And no matter how many distractions he surrounded himself with—his brothers, work, the videos they filmed together—it would never seem to be enough. He could never forget what it felt like when you were there, how your laughter filled the room or how your touch made things feel just a little bit warmer, just a little bit easier. All he had now were pieces of his memory, scattered bits of what had once been.

Nick leaned in his seat, looking sideways at Chris. "You are sure you do not want to talk about it?" he asked, his tone softer and understanding. "You have been acting different lately.

Chris’s heart ached at the question, but he shook his head, trying to force the feelings down again. He didn’t want to burden his brothers with this—didn’t want them to see how broken he still felt.

“I said I’m fine,” he repeated, a little more forcefully this time, trying to convince himself as much as them. “Just… lost in thought, that’s all.”

Matt hummed thoughtfully, but the conversation changed course and they moved on to another subject. Chris didn't say anything for the rest of the ride, just looked out the window as the city lights whizzed by, the world outside going at a breakneck pace, yet somehow to him, time stood still. No matter how hard he tried to shake it away, his mind kept slipping back to you.

I miss you, he thought, but the words never passed his mind. They buzzed in the muffled silence of the car, in the silence of his heart-heavy, unspoken. He did not know, for one thing, how to move on, how to let go of something so right, so natural.

But it had passed, leaving him with only its pieces, jumbled like confetti in his head.

The car chugged forward, but Chris's mind remained lost in time, backward to that place when life was simpler and felt right.

And all that remained now was the quiet ache.

word count: 1.6k

tags: @sweetshuga

a/n: heyy! I got random motivation last night at 4am to write this. It's a bit choppy but hope its okay! As you can see my last 2 stories are aslo about Chris angst. Love breaking my own heart lmao. Anyways bye for now! Tysm for all the love, i appreciate and love you all!

@queenshet

[ilovedinodino]

…i was so miserable? l. hc smau

26. different (written) wc: 1515

Haechan, as usual, came to the studio first and very early. In fact, he didn't want to come today at all, because he needed to tell you what he knows, otherwise Renjun would do it, and then things would get even worse. But the main reason he didn’t want to come and see you was fear. He was scared and shy to look you in the eyes after finding out you had feelings for him. Of course, he had feelings for you too—very strong ones—but for some reason, your mutual feelings frightened him yesterday. He had been so sure that you would never like him in that way and that he would never have a chance with you. He was prepared for rejection and had accepted that you would never be together. But yesterday, you proved him wrong, and now his head was spinning with emotions. He was overwhelmed and nervous.

Every training session with you had been fun and comfortable, which surprised you. Falling for Haechan after just seven practices wasn’t something you expected. But he truly was special. Haechan was always kind to you. Even when you made mistakes, he never got upset but patiently helped and supported you. He took charge of everything, you could say that he was the leader in your duo and a very caring leader.

Haechan was different. He wasn’t like your ex.

After your breakup with Chanhyun, you were convinced that you didn’t deserve love and that you would never find someone who could truly be a good partner. He never listened to you and pretended that nothing was going on with you and that you didn't have any problems. Chanhyun never cared about you, ignored your feelings as if they didn’t exist. He saw your diaries and notes in secret and hid about it until one day you saw your diary out of place. It broke your heart that even though he saw everything, he didn't try to talk to you. Even when you tried to talk to him and show him how much you were struggling, he remained indifferent.

Haechan was different.

After that experience, you closed yourself off, even from close friends, and only shared your thoughts and feelings online, where no one knew you. You kept telling everyone you were fine, and most people believed you. But not Renjun. Renjun always knew you better than you realized. He saw how unhappy you were with Changhyun and tried to warn you, but you didn’t listen. After your heart was broken, he was the one who stayed by your side. He saw your tears and the depression you sank into. That’s why Renjun became like an older brother to you, protecting, caring for you and didn't let suspicious guys near you. You didn’t mind. At that point, love wasn’t important to you anymore.

You left the café, holding two cheesecakes and a coffee, feeling happy. Today, you and Haechan were finally going to finish your choreography, and you couldn’t wait to show it to your team.

When you entered the studio, you heard familiar music. “Ateez?”

Haechan was sitting on the couch with his phone in hand. Hearing the door open, he looked up. “Oh, Y/N!” “Hi!” you smiled, sitting next to him and placing the cheesecakes and coffee on the small table. “I got one with strawberry and one with chocolate. I hope you’ll like them. This café always has the best cheesecakes!” you said with a sweet smile.

Haechan froze, staring at you. You were so beautiful in that moment, and he felt his love for you grow even stronger. Wait. Love? Did he love you?

“I’m sure they’re the best cheesecakes,” he replied warmly.

You stood up to go change, but suddenly paused as you listened to the music. “Wait, Ateez? Why are you playing them?” “They just had a comeback, so I decided to listen. Plus, you like them.”

You nodded, heading towards the changing room, but a thought crossed your mind: How does he know I like Ateez?

You stopped in the doorway. “Donghyuck?” “Yeah?” “How do you know I like them?”

The air in the room felt heavy. You weren’t smiling anymore, and Haechan noticed, becoming slightly anxious. “You told me! I remember you mentioned them once, so I remembered!” he said, trying to sound confident. “Oh, really?” you replied awkwardly,already believing in his words, but then he added: “I even remember that your bias is Yunho.”

What?

“Yunho?” “Yeah, you like him a lot, don’t you?” “I never said Yunho was my bias.” “You did.” “No.” “Yes, Y/N, you…” “No. My bias is Seonghwa, not Yunho. And, by the way, I’ve never even mentioned Seonghwa before. Yet you’re claiming I talked about Yunho.”

Why was Haechan so sure about this? What made him think that? How did he even know you liked Ateez? Did you ever tell him?

You froze. “Y/N, are you okay?”

Haechan’s behavior was suspicious. You started recalling all the moments when he unexpectedly showed up when you needed something. You thought he was just attentive, but no, that didn’t seem to be the case.

You remembered how he suddenly gave you chocolates. How he comforted you when you were anxious. How he unexpectedly suggested going for a walk. How someone "randomly" transferred you money when you needed it. How you suddenly started hearing Ateez songs and that your bias is Yunho. And finally, you noticed how Haechan’s attitude toward you had changed. He became more cautious and caring. If he used to joke around and tease you often, now he was entirely different.

Haechan had changed. Haechan knew.

“Do you know about my Twitter?” you asked sharply, looking at him.

Haechan froze, panic spreading across his face. “T-Twitter? Of course, I know. Everyone knows. You know mine too, right?” He let out an awkward laugh, trying to play it off.

“My private account.”

From his reaction, you realized everything. He knew about your Twitter. He knew all your thoughts and struggles.

Haechan swallowed hard and stood up, looking you in the eye. “Y/N, I...”

“You know about my account, Haechan.”

Haechan froze. You never called him Haechan; you were the only one who always used his real name. Hearing his nickname from you in such a cold tone hurt him deeply. “No, no... I’m Donghyuck, not Haechan,” he stammered.

“And here I thought you were just attentive, but instead, you stayed silent and kept it all to yourself?” Your eyes welled up with tears as you stepped away from him.

Haechan panicked and stepped closer, trying to take your hands in his. “Y/N, let me explain everything... It was an accident...”

“God, Renjun was right...” You stepped even further away and lowered your head. Haechan saw tears streaming down your face.

“Y/N, Y/N, I didn’t mean to. I came across it accidentally, please hear me out.”

“You seriously read everything about me, and...” You raised your head, and Haechan froze. “How am I supposed to dance that choreo with you after this?”

Haechan’s heart shattered. “Please, Y/N, hear me out. I didn’t find out that long ago. I wanted to tell you, but I was scared. I was afraid you’d shut me out. We were never that close, and I thought this was a good way to understand you better. I genuinely wanted to help you.”

“You wanted to know me without asking me directly? You know, maybe it’s my fault for not locking my account. It’s not your fault—it’s mine,” you said bitterly.

“No, Y/N, you’re not to blame. Please, don’t say that.”

“Haechan, I just don’t know how to talk to you now, knowing that you know everything about me. Knowing I..." "...I was so miserable?"

“Y/N, don’t say that. Please. You’re not awful. There’s nothing wrong with this.”

“It hurts to know that you now know my worst secrets, but I don’t know anything about you except the image you show to others.”

Haechan stood there, stunned. He watched you breathe rapidly, and he himself was on the verge of tears. “That’s not true! You know a lot about me already, and if you want, I can open up to you even more.”

“So you know that I have feelings for you,” you interrupted, recalling your tweet.

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, but I want to go home. I can’t dance,” you said as you started gathering your things.

“Y/N, please don’t shut me out. We need to talk...”

You stayed silent.

“Do you want me to tell Jeno that we can’t show our dance? I’ll tell him it’s my fault. I won’t mention you.”

You still said nothing, a lump in your throat stopping you from speaking. Haechan wanted to hug you but feared crossing another line.

“I...” you stammered. “Tell him whatever you want,” you said and walked out of the studio.

Haechan wanted to run after you. He didn’t want to leave you in such a state, knowing he had caused it. But he stayed frozen, staring at the door, tears welling up in his eyes.

Was Haechan different?

-------

prev / masterlist / next

note: I put my soul here. It was so funny to me when you all thought that renjun was jealous and in love with her😭 renjun is my favourite here btw

taglist (open) : @alethea-moon @dinonuguaegi @jenoleeaesthetic @gukuwii @doughyk @elsbunny @dudekiss3r @yuthabitz @thegracerammy @soobinbunnie5 @joyzluvr @yewshi @miniature-tragedy @jaymelee @foxy-kitsune @slayhaechan @chibilino @sleepyvic @minkyuncutie @olladecaramelos @samvagejkflxhrt @gomdoleemyson @nctjunie @ypoom151999

[puff0o0]

Soft touches, gentle eyes, shining tears. Your throat felt as if barbed wire was wrapped around it tightly, soft enough not to cut skin, but harsh enough to feel the strangling pain. You tried hard not to cry, knowing that if you did, you would feel weak and sensitive. But it was as if he was doing everything in his power to stop that.

Your simon made sure you were happy all the time. He understood you had your moments where you needed a cry, and he made sure he was the anchor that held the ship down. But if it was preventable, he did his damn hardest to make sure it didn't affect you. If it meant harming someone else to protect your feelings? Then he was harming that person.

You gave him a feeling of life and happiness, a feeling that would ruin him forever if you were to disappear.

No one could ever replace the soft tears his heart cries out when he wakes up next to you in the morning and sees you still asleep.

No one could replace the view of the sunlight cascading over your features and giving it a warm glow that not even a painting could properly resemble

No one could ever replace how protective he felt when he saw just a tear fall from your cheek

His gentle, yet scarred hands brushed over yours before finally taking your cold hands into his, warming it with his hands. The hands that have killed many and harmed many, the hands that have made decisions that have harmed few but saved thousands, were holding yours as if the absence of their presence could make you go away. He held them gently yet firmly, making a soft feeling of warmth go through you despite your vulnerable state

You just wanted everything to go away, to be alone and for everyone to forget about you. However, there was that small part of you that craves to be seen and held, that wanted someone to finally act like they cared about you and listened to you. He didn't force you to talk about it, he didn't force you to stop crying. He wanted to be your rock, to be the one to break that overflowing glass bottle of emotions you forced to close. He wanted to help you realize that he would always be there for you, no matter how many hours or days he was away

"It's a'right, luv. I'm listenin', jus keep talkin' to me"

"You're safe, y'don't have to worry 'bout a thing"

"I love you so much, luv"

He let you wail into his chest while rubbing your back, mumbling sweet words that could have been etched in a sweet vanilla cream. Every word was as if it was carved and baked with you in mind, making you cry harder and harder as they were words you desperately needed

He would make sure his presence gives you the peace and kindness you deserve

[bat-mom-writer]

Impulses

Bruce Wayne(Husband) X Reader(Wife)

Summery: you can be very quick to act on your impulse, usually being done with a kind heart. But can sometimes lead to you and some others being hurt.

Note: Something tells me Bruce wouldn't go to therapy, but this isn't real so...

Rate: Loving Bruce, the very small almost of angst

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, tell me Bruce, are you happily married?"

"Of course."

"Then why are you here?"

"Well," Bruce pauses, thinking over his words carefully, "it's not exactly that simple."

The therapist's office was quiet, the kind of silence that felt like it was holding its breath. Bruce Wayne sat in a chair that was a little too small for his broad shoulders, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall. It was a simple room, with a few plants scattered around and a faint scent of lavender in the air, but it was the last place he ever thought he'd be. He was a man who dealt with Gotham's problems from the shadows, not one who talked about his own in a well-lit space with a box of tissues within arm's reach.

"How so?" the therapist asked again, her voice gentle but firm, bringing Bruce back to the present.

He sighed. "Well, my wife… she's incredible. She's kind and she's the glue that holds our family together."

The therapist nodded, her expression neutral. "But?"

Bruce leaned back, rubbing his temples. "But she's… impulsive. She does things without considering the consequences, especially when it comes to the boys."

The therapist made a note in her pad. "Could you give me an example?"

Bruce sighed heavily, his mind racing with instances. "Once we went hiking, and she found a baby wolf, injured and alone. She insisted on bringing it back to the manor to care for it herself. Most of my sons thought it would be a great idea—until we realized it had a pack out there looking for it, and suddenly we had a bunch of very unhappy wolves on our backs."

The therapist looked up, raising an eyebrow. "I see. And how did that situation resolve?"

Bruce chuckled, a bit nervously. "Let's just say there were a lot of stitches involved. And I haven't heard anyone wanting to go camping again ever since."

The therapist's eyes widened, but she remained calm. "It seems she has a heart of gold, but maybe a bit of an overactive sense of adventure."

Bruce nodded. "Exactly. And it's not just with animals. She once tried to organize a surprise street carnival in the middle of Gotham because she thought the city needed more joy. You can imagine the chaos that ensued with all the traffic rerouting and permits she didn't bother to get."

The therapist's pen stopped mid-stroke. "Ah, so her intentions are good, but the execution could use some work."

Bruce nodded emphatically. "You have no idea. She's the love of my life, but sometimes I worry she's going to get us all into trouble. The boys look up to her, especially Dick and Damian."

The therapist leaned in slightly. "How do Dick and Damian react to her impulsive nature?"

"Dick tries to be the voice of reason, but he's young and still learning the ropes of being a responsible older brother. And Damian," Bruce sighed, "he's more like me—he's intrigued by the chaos she creates, but he's also the one who ends up getting hurt when things go awry."

The therapist nodded understandingly. "It's natural for children to look up to their parents, especially when they see the love and good intentions behind their actions. But it's also important for them to learn about boundaries and the potential consequences of impulsivity. How does your wife react when you bring this up with her?"

Bruce leaned forward, his expression a mix of affection and exasperation. "She's… well, she's stubborn. She sees the world as a place full of possibilities, and she wants to experience all of them. I get that, I do. But we can't live our lives on the edge like that, especially with the kind of enemies I've made over the years."

The therapist nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "It's a delicate balance, isn't it? Wanting to keep your family safe and also allowing them the freedom to live their lives fully. How have you been managing this?"

Bruce's smile grew a bit wistful. "Well, my wife is also the lively part of our lives. Without her, the manor would be just a fortress, not a home. She brings laughter and light to every room she enters. She's the one who convinced me to let Tim build a skateboard ramp in the garage, and even though it's a hazard to my cars, I can't help but smile when I hear them all out there, having fun."

The therapist nodded, understanding the complexity of the situation. "It sounds like you appreciate her spirit, but it's important to establish boundaries to ensure everyone's safety. Have you tried discussing the potential dangers with her?"

Bruce leaned back, his eyes drifting to the floor. "I've tried," he admitted. "But she's… she's like a tornado of love and enthusiasm. It's hard to say no to her."

The therapist nodded, her expression understanding. "It's clear you care deeply for her and the boys. Perhaps it's time to find a way to channel that enthusiasm into safer outlets."

"I know," Bruce said, running a hand through his hair. "But she's so… so alive. It's like trying to cage a butterfly."

The therapist nodded. "It's not about caging her, Bruce. It's about guiding her. Teaching her and the boys to weigh risks and rewards. To channel their energy into something positive without endangering themselves or others."

Bruce sat in silence, contemplating her words. He knew she was right, but it was easier said than done when it came to his vibrant wife. Her zest for life was both infectious and overwhelming at times. He thought back to the street carnival she had organized. The look of joy on the citizens' faces as they played games and ate cotton candy was something he hadn't seen in Gotham in a long time.

"There not all bad," he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. "Her impulses have led to some amazing moments, too."

"Like what?" the therapist prompted, her curiosity piqued.

Bruce's smile grew as he recalled a recent incident. "Last week, she found out about a fundraising event for an underfunded children's hospital. Without asking, she decided to host a masquerade ball at the manor. She convinced Alfred to help, and together they transformed the place into a fairy tale. The kids had the time of their lives, and we ended up raising a fortune for those kids."

The therapist returned his smile. "That does sound wonderful. It seems her spontaneity has its benefits."

Bruce nodded. "It does. But it's also a double-edged sword. I want to support her, but I also need to keep everyone safe."

The therapist leaned back in her chair. "Communication is key, Bruce. It's about expressing your concerns without squashing her spirit. Have you tried talking to her about how her impulsiveness affects you?"

Bruce sighed, his eyes reflecting the weight of his words. "I've tried, but she takes it personally. She thinks I'm trying to control her."

The therapist nodded, her expression empathetic. "It's a common misconception. Setting boundaries isn't about control; it's about care and safety. Have you framed it that way?"

Bruce furrowed his brow. "I'm not sure. I've usually approached it from the perspective of the danger it could pose to the boys."

"It's important to express your feelings," the therapist said. "Tell her how her actions affect you and why you worry. It might help her understand your perspective better."

Bruce nodded slowly, considering her advice. It was true; he hadn't shared his own fears with her, only the potential risks to the boys. Perhaps that was where he was going wrong.

"Thank you, doctor," he said, rising from his chair. "I'll think about what you've said."

The therapist stood and offered a warm smile. "Remember, Bruce, it's about balance. And sometimes, that means taking a risk to find it."

Bruce nodded, her words echoing in his mind as he left the office and stepped into the Gotham night. The city was alive with the pulse of its inhabitants, a stark contrast to the calmness he'd just left behind. His thoughts were racing, trying to find a way to bridge the gap between his need for security and his wife's boundless spirit.

As he drove back to Wayne Manor, the grandeur of the estate came into view, the gothic architecture a stark contrast to the chaos of the city beyond its gates. The manor was more than just a home; it was a bastion of hope in a city that desperately needed it. The lights were on in the windows, a warm glow that promised sanctuary from the cold outside.

When he walked in, the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air. You was in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you pulled a tray out of the oven. You turned to him, your face lighting up with a smile that never failed to melt his heart. "Hi, honey! How was your day?"

Bruce took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he knew he had to have. "It was… interesting," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "How about yours?"

"Oh, you know," you replied with a shrug, placing the cookies on a rack to cool. "Just the usual—keeping the boys out of trouble, planning the next big surprise for them." you winked at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Bruce felt a twinge of both fondness and dread. He knew that look all too well. It was the look you got when she had another harebrained scheme up your sleeve. He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into an embrace. "How about we talk about these surprises together from now on?"

You tilted your head back, your smile fading a bit. "What do you mean?"

Bruce took a deep breath. "I mean, I know you love surprising the boys, and I love that about you. But sometimes, your surprises have… unintended consequences. I want to be there to support you, but I also need to make sure everyone is safe."

You leaned back, looking up at him with a slightly defensive expression. "Not all of my surprises turn out bad," you said, your voice a bit softer than before.

Bruce felt his heart squeeze at the sight of you, flour smudged on your cheek and apron, looking so earnest. He gave a tight smile, trying to ease the tension. But his face was screaming, "Are you sure?"

You took a step back, "Okay, okay, maybe most of them," you conceded. "But the good ones make up for it, right?"

Bruce sighed, his arms dropping to his sides. "They do," he agreed. "But it's the potential for danger that I can't ignore. And not just for the boys, but for you too."

You rolled your eyes, brushing off the flour on your apron. "Me? I'm fine. I can handle myself."

Bruce's grip on your shoulders tightened slightly. "You know what I mean," he said, his voice serious. "How many times have you ended up in the hospital because of one of your… adventures?"

You winced, remembering the last time you had tried to rescue a cat stuck in a tree, only to end up with a broken arm and a bruised ego. "Okay, okay," you repeated, holding up your hands in surrender. "I get it. I can be a bit… much."

Bruce's expression softened, his eyes searching yours. "You're not 'much', you're amazing. I just don't want to lose you."

You took a deep breath, the weight of his words settling in. "I know," you said, your voice small. "But what about you? You're not much different, Bruce. Maybe even worse. You go out every night as Batman, risking your life."

He stepped back, his expression unreadable. "That's different," he said firmly. "That's for the city."

"Is it?" you asked, looking up at him with a hint of challenge in your eyes. "Or is it because you've convinced yourself that it's your duty? That you're the only one who can do it?"

Bruce's jaw tightened at your question. It was a fair point, one he'd wrestled with in the quiet moments of his life. He knew that his crusade as Batman was driven by his own fears and the need to keep the city that had taken his parents safe. But he also knew that the stakes were higher for him than they were for you.

"I've been trained for that," he said finally. "You… you have the biggest heart in the world, but sometimes you don't think about the risks."

You nodded, looking down at the cookies cooling on the rack. "I know," you murmured. "But it's just so hard to resist when I see something that could bring joy to people, especially the boys."

Bruce stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. "I know your heart's in the right place," he said. "But we can't keep playing Russian roulette with our lives, not when we have so much to lose. I don't want to lose you. Or see you get hurt. I'm just asking, please, consider the risks before you act. And come to me, talk to me, let's find a way to make this work."

You searched his eyes, the gravity of his words sinking in. You knew he wasn't trying to stifle you; he was just worried. "Okay," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "I'll try."

Bruce's expression relaxed a bit, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Thank you," he said softly. "Now, how about we sit down and talk about what's been on your mind? Maybe we can come up with some ideas together."

You nodded, swiping a strand of hair from your forehead. "Alright, I'll finish up on the cookies and then we can talk. Until then, want to help? Just to make sure I don't hurt myself?"

Bruce couldn't help but chuckle at your attempt to lighten the mood. "Sure," he said, taking the spatula from your hand. "Let's do this together."

As you both worked side by side in the kitchen, the tension began to ease. You chatted about the different flavors of cookies and which ones the boys would like best, while Bruce carefully placed the finished ones on a plate. The rhythm of your conversation was soothing, and it reminded him of the first time he had met you—how your laugh had filled a room and made him feel alive again.

[secretlyobito]

Second skin

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Who knew the fearsome Uchiha Sasuke was........clingy?

Post war Sasuke x reader

Lots of things had changed about Sasuke since the war ended. He had a rinnegan now in his left eye, he was much taller, calmer and....touchy?

It freaked you out the first time it happened because before his defection and the war, you were used to zero physical affection from Sasuke. Sure there was the occasional hand holding or forehead tap but hugging? Caressing? Cuddling? Sasuke was uncomfortable with that, with letting people in that close. It wasn't a big deal to you, you knew your lover and accepted him for who was, quirks and boundaries included.

So it came as a shock to you when he showed up at your doorstep a few days after the war had ended and he had been pardoned for his crimes against Konoha. Sasuke never came to you first, it was always you putting in most of the heavy load in the relationship. You were already poised to ask him if everything was alright when he suddenly pulled you into a hug. What the hell, who's this and what did he do with Sasuke?

It startled you, you almost didn't recognize it was a hug. It was obvious he didn't give many hugs, he was stiff, akward and wasn't even fully touching you. After a few moments of you standing there and blinking in shock, he eventually grunts and shoves you away (lightly) in embarrassment from your lack of reciprocation. His cheeks are red as he huffs and turns around ready to leave. He summoned up all that courage to finally hold you and this is what he gets?

"wait! wait!" you giggle gripping his cloak to prevent him from leaving as he grumbles and tries to hide his flushed face. "Was that a hug??" you howl with laughter as he yanks his cloak out of your grasp and glares at you. "I was just...nevermind" He figures explaining would make everything worse. He was just going to leave and pretend this never happened, and if you tried to bring it up? He would just gaslight you into thinking you were crazy. Yep, sounds like the perfect plan.

You decide you've laughed at him enough, after all he's making an effort. You smile up at him before gently grabbing his hand and tugging him closer. "Thank you Sasuke, that meant a lot to me" You hope your words of praise would encourage him to take more baby steps. "But I didn't even do it right..." He huffs looking away, yet his thumb draws circles on your hand that grabbed his. "Its the thought that counts anyways" you shrug.

Sasuke always loved that aspect of you even though it felt like he was taking advantage of you. You were always so kind and caring and so understanding as a partner, even when he failed to be affectionate like other guys were to their girlfriends. Well no more, all that was going to change starting from today.

Ever since that day, true to his words he was more affectionate. He was basically attached to you by the hip now. He had gotten better at hugs too, they went from stiff and weird to warm and loving. He was also much bolder, these days you would find Sasuke absent mindedly caressing your thigh or sweeping you off your feet(quite literally) when he felt you were walking too slow, his new favourite hobby was lounging with his head in your lap and you playing with his hair. He would never admit that though.

He hadn't quite gotten to the level of cuddles and kisses yet. Whenever you brought it up while suggestively wiggling your eyebrows, he would blush and stutter calling you a little pervert before abruptly walking away to go and fantasize about how it would feel to have your lips on his.

Even though it seemed like Sasuke being clingy and affectionate was something he picked up out of the blue after the war, the truth was that Sasuke had always been an affectionate person by heart. Only his parents and Itachi knew just what a loving and tender boy he was. Much to his delight, Itachi was often the subject of Sasuke's cuddles when they were younger but the sheer gravity of the trauma of what he had been through made him into the damaged and withdrawn person he became before the war. Now he's slowly healing and learning to love again and you couldn't be more glad he chose you to take on that journey with him.

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Guess who's back from the dead? meee. Jk I've actually been busy with uni applications, your girl's getting ready to move halfway across the world for school, pray for me ya'll 😭😭😭 also if anybody knows any good scholarships for international students aside from the mainstream ones like commonwealth, chevening, mastercard etc, please recommend them to me ☹.

Thank you for reading, hugs and kisses. 😙

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 93 (Finally Coming Clean)

When Conrad arrived home on Friday night, Ash was in the city. He took a shower, joining Heather in the kitchen while she cooked dinner and talked about Ray Pierce, the Landgraabs' driver who she'd met that afternoon. "He seems as nice as Ash says. It's just annoying I had to find out about him from my son and not his father."

Conrad didn't say much; he couldn't exactly chastise Malcolm for keeping secrets from her. Lavender was awake and Conrad practiced sitting with her for a while, putting her to bed as the scent of chicken stir-fry wafted up the stairs.

He went to the kitchen, smiling at the setup of food and candles at their dining table. "You didn't have to do all this." He kissed her cheek. "What's the occasion?"

"The occasion is, I love you. I just wanted to take away a little stress from your day."

He frowned, and his hands went limp around her waist. "Heather, I need to tell you something. The case I told you about that's been driving me crazy...I backed out of it yesterday morning."

She looked at him, confused. "Maybe that's for the best. But it's not like you to give up on a case."

"I had to let this one go. It was kind of...it wasn't an official case. I've been looking for someone off the books for close to six months."

"Why? Is it someone you know?"

He nodded, and she followed him to sit across from him at the kitchen table. "There's so much about my past I haven't been able to tell you. I should have said something long before I moved in, but I'd convinced myself it was totally in my past and would never be an issue."

"What is it?"

"Do you remember that woman who was looking in our windows when you were pregnant? I wasn't sure at the time, but I got the cameras as a precaution, regardless. She started texting me after Lavender was born."

"Who is she?"

He took a deep breath. "She's my ex."

"Conrad, what does she want?"

"Me. She only wants me. But she can't have me so she's..."

"Is she dangerous? Is this the college girlfriend who cheated on you and broke your heart?"

"Same one. Her name's Ximena Bonilla and she's a little...erratic. But she might not be as dangerous as the people she associates with."

"Who does she associate with?"

"Selvadoradian cartels. She's a drug dealer."

The shock and confusion on Heather's face turned to anger. "How do you know her?"

"I met her when I was in college. She said she was a student and convinced me for almost a year. She was raising her kid brother, Rafa, by herself and escaped being trafficked by the cartel by running drugs for them instead. When I found out the students were her customers, I should have broken up with her. But I was in love and I wanted to keep her safe. I didn't leave. I got deep enough that I met some of her bosses and knew about some of their operations, but she cheated on me and it broke the spell. I finally left her, but one of their ops went bad and one of the guys they picked up gave my name to San Myshuno PD."

"Conrad, you don't have a criminal record. I looked you up after we started dating."

"You hacked the police database, too?"

"No...I did a public records search after River made a joke about a hacker and a criminal."

"To this day, I don't know how my father did it. My file's locked under clearance even I don't have, same as anyone else on the force with a past, but Landgraab Security's always had contacts at San Myshuno PD. He pulled enough strings to wipe my record clean and transfer me into the academy. I had to give them a couple names in exchange - street dealers, local guys. No one that would really upset the cartel. But the force had to look like they were managing crime in their city, and that's the only reason I became a cop and not a complete screw up."

"Is the cartel after you? Or just your ex? Did you give them her name?"

"I never gave them her name. I couldn't, because I didn't know what would happen to her little brother if I did. She tried to get me back after I left, but I knew it could never work out. When Gord was still a puppy, she cornered us outside my apartment to get my attention when I brought home another girl. I got a restraining order, but when it expired and she stayed away, I thought she was finally gone for good."

"So why is she back?"

"She asked for my help to find her brother."

"Is her brother even missing?"

"He is missing. He's wanted by San Myshuno PD. I wanted to help him before he was arrested and sent to prison."

"But you were looking for him under the table, as a favour to your ex who sounds obsessed with you? No wonder Gord hasn't left us alone since Lavender was born. He always knew what was going on with you, didn't he? And you never thought to mention any of this to me?"

"Heather, I wanted to, I-"

"Were you going to help this guy avoid prison? How? Criminal connections?"

"Nothing like that. I was hoping to be able to talk to him, encourage him to go back to finish high school, find a solid job, and maybe convince a judge to go easier on him. I really thought I'd be able to find him in a few weeks, maybe a couple months, and we could all move on again. But uncovering leads has been impossible, and his sister's not a reliable source. I'd even started a file on Ximena because I thought once I found her brother I could finally get around to what I should have done more than once and turned her in. But I could see what searching for Rafa and keeping it from everyone was doing to me, so I finally told her yesterday I was done."

"You've been in regular contact with your ex and didn't tell me? And not because there's something between you but because she's dangerous? Conrad, that's worse."

He nodded. "I know it is. I know how not saying anything makes it look, but I'm so ashamed of that chapter of my life. My bad decisions killed my father. After he got me into the academy, his heart got weak. Two heart attacks, and he died within months. As long as I live, I'll know the stress I put him under was the cause."

She was quiet, nervously playing with her food. Neither was hungry anymore. "You should have told me this."

"I'm so sorry. The longer I kept it from you, the more I feared telling you too late to deserve understanding. I love you so much, and I never wanted to do anything to lose you."

They were interrupted when Conrad's phone started beeping. This time, it was work, but he read the dispatch and his stomach dropped.

The phone shook in his trembling hand and Heather stood. "Conrad, what is it?"

"There's a dead body at the pier. I've got to go back to work." A bone-chilling shiver ran down his spine. His heartbeat quickened, as though he knew what he'd find when he reached Fisherman's Wharf. "I'm so sorry, Heather. I want to keep talking about this, but I can't."

She nodded. "I understand."

A pit formed in his stomach. "Will you do me a favour? I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but will you leave for your parents' place in Henford tonight? Don't wait until morning. I'll probably be working all night and I'd rather know you're safe outside of town."

She uncrossed her arms in shock. "Do you think your ex is involved with the body at the pier? Is that why you want us to leave? Lavender's sound asleep already, but you want me to wake her and take her an hour on the Simmerloop when you invested in those security cameras?"

"Heather, please," he begged, reaching for her hand across the table. "If she's anywhere near Brindleton Bay right now, I can't focus on work if I'm worried about the two of you."

Heather looked at him with sad eyes as their fingers brushed against the wood-top table. Betrayal was written all over her face, but she nodded toward the uneaten food and pulled her hand away. "I'll pack this up in the fridge and then I'll take her. Do you think you'll make it to Henford at all this weekend?"

"Heather, I don't know. I hope so. But I can pack this up before I go. Thank you for cooking. I'm sorry we couldn't enjoy it."

"Me too," she snipped. "Good luck. Be careful."

Heather couldn't look at him and Conrad wouldn't press her. As much as he wanted to run after her and beg forgiveness, a deadly crime scene called him to the pier. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Heather doing a semi-romantic dinner setup wasn't a flirty gesture, but she has the caregiver personality type. I can't remember if this is from a mod or an EA feature, to tell you the truth. I think it's a mod. Conrad has the jester personality type, which I think suits him, too. Conrad is really responsible and respectful which suit his proper trait (which was learned after younger mistakes), but jesters trend toward mischief/"foolish games" in addition to being jokesters. EDIT: It's WonderfulWhims/WickedWhims that adds this!!

WCIF Poses Used? Dinner Table Talks by @herecirmsims. I don't even mind the clipping because their kitchen table and chairs didn't quite fit the dimensions, because the poses gave me the expressions I wanted. I tried way too long to try to get the teleporters in the middle of the chairs, but I got close enough for me. Just ignore the fact that their chests were in their stir-fry for 90 per cent of that convo! Thank you so much for creating and sharing! 🙏