#help i literally did this in 2 seconds how did it blow UP????

[fruitymations]

I LOOK AWAY FOR TWO SECONDS AND IT BLEW UP LMAO

[alastor-simp]

Alastor with a female reader who is selectively mute Part 2

Here is part 2 of this story. Mimzy is gonna be in this story as well, since we havent heard her talk yet or what her personality is like, im just gonna write how I think she will talk and act. Enjoy everyone:)

***5 Months Later***

You had adapted to hell surprisingly well. Yes there was some bumps along the way, due to you being mute, but you adjusted as time went on. Your relationships with everyone in the hotel had grown significantly. Charlie adored you and loved you like a sister. She was this close to telling her dad if it was possible to adopt you into the family, but you frantically declined as you suspected it would complicate things, but it was sweet that she loved you so much to do that. Vaggie slowly adjusted to you, don't blame her, she was always untrustworthy of everyone in the hotel, but she came around sooner or later. She offered to teach you some self defense as you were still an easy target. It was a bit difficult, but you managed despite your clumsiness. Angel Dust was a bit annoying in the beginning as he really wanted to hear your voice, but the puppy dog eyes you gave him made him quit. Now he treats you like his bestie, taking you shopping and having you attend some of his shows, which flustered you, but you wanted to support him. Niffty found you adorable when you first met and she still does. She has tried not to speed run towards you, since it always shocked you, causing you to drop your notepad in the past. It took a while, but she was able to do it. Husk was literally your dad figure. He always came over when you appeared upset about something and offered to cheer you up with his card tricks or make you a virgin cocktail, especially since your alcohol tolerance was negative 1000. You loved that he became that caring towards you, especially how gruff he was with everyone else. Sir Pentious was a new addition to the hotel. He first appeared when he tried to blow up the hotel a second time, only for Al to defeat him easily. Later after that, he became a patron at the hotel. He wondered why you didn't speak, but after a talk with Charlie and Vaggie, he no longer questioned it. He did enjoy your company, whenever you came to his work space, as he was crafting his inventions. His Egg Bois adored you as well, which pleased him. Alastor had become almost your protector/best friend. Its crazy to think how in the beginning, he was a bit annoyed when you didn't respond to his question, to now where he was always there to help you whenever you were in a pickle. His radio tower was your sanctuary as you always headed up there during his broadcasts. Alastor would always anticipate you coming as well, as it made his day a whole lot better whenever you showed up and took a seat next to him, admiring him as he continued his broadcast.

Getting ready for the day, you stood in front of your mirror, making sure you look spiffy. Alastor had invited you to attend one of Mimzy's shows at her club. Excitement raced through your body, and you nodded quickly when he asked you. Alastor mentioned before that her shows were very entertaining, so it made you very happy when he invited you to come. After a few minutes of looking yourself over, you walked over to the bed and grabbed the cell phone that was there. Charlie had gotten you it a few weeks ago as a gift. She had installed a text to speech app on it, so whatever you typed on the phone, a voice would respond back. Tears filled your eyes when she gave it to you, almost apologizing for all the trouble she had to go through to get it for you, but she said it was fine and it hardly cost anything. You knew she was royalty, so one cell phone wouldn't be a big deal, but it was to you. After a bunch of persuasion from Charlie saying it was really alright, you accepted the cell phone, not before engulfing Charlie in a hug. It took a while to get use to it, but it got easier over time, and it was a whole lot better then the notepad.

Rushing out of the room, your feet carried you over to the lobby, where a certain deer demon was patiently waiting. Alastor's ear twitched when he heard the pitter patter of your feet, turning to face you with a smile. Stopping to catch your breath, you stood in front of Al and gave a small wave, causing him to chuckle. His eyes scanned your outfit and found it to be perfect for today's activities. "Excited are we, my dear?" Looking at Al, you nodded your head, smiling widely. How adorable he thought. Hooking his arm with yours, Alastor banged his microphone on the ground, causing a portal to open in front of you. "Transporting like this may be new to you, my dear! Hold on tight!" The both of you entered the portal. It felt extremely odd, but you powered through it. The portal had brought you in front of a large building, with a large neon sign reading "Mimzy's." There was a crowd of demons around the building, probably ready for the show, as Mimzy was very popular. Entering inside, your eyes were drawn to the decor. It was a lavish place, the walls were covered in burlesque posters, and string lights decorated the ceiling. It had a very spacious bar and in the center of the room was a large stage with a small band in the background. Heading over to a certain section, there was a table that read VIP. This must be for us, since Alastor was a frequent visitor at this place. Sitting down in the seat, Alastor called over a server, asking for their most popular giggle water, while turning to you and asking what you would like. Taking your phone out, you typed your answer and played it out:

"𝙹𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎."

The server was confused at that, but just shrugged and nodded while going over to complete the order. Alastor was not fond that you had to resort to that annoying technology to speak, but he did noticed how more calm you were using it then the notepad, so he kept his opinion to himself. After the server returned with the drinks, the lights began to dim, and the crowd began to let out cheers, as the main entertainer made her way to the stage. Mimzy was a very short demon, a little chubby, but very gorgeous. Her flapper dress suit her very well, as she made her way to the center of the stage. "Good evening, Ladies and Gents! Y'all ready for tonight's performance?" Cheers and whistles were the response to that. "That's what I like to hear! Hit it boys!" The stage lights flashed, as Mimzy walked closer to the front of the stage, standing in front of the microphone, ready to amaze everyone.

(LOVE THIS SINGER, Check her out)

The performance drew to a close, and you were blown away. Her voice was amazing. Loud cheers and applause radiated throughout the whole room, as Mimzy gave a bow. Both you and Alastor clapped with the crowd as Mimzy left the stage, leaving the band there, as they played some jazz to keep the entertainment alive. Alastor turned towards you, asking if you enjoyed the show, to which you responded with an enthusiastic nod. "Why Alastor! You made it" a familiar voice, called out from behind the both of you, as you saw Mimzy walking towards the both of you. "Of course, Mimzy my dear! You do know how much I adore your performances!" Alastor smiled as he greeted Mimzy, placing a kiss on her hand. Mimzy's eyes then locked on you. Oh boy, you hoped she was friendly. "Oh My Goodness! Who is this adorable little peach?!" Oh thank Lucifer, she was a nice demon. "Ah yes! This is another acquaintance of mine! Say hello my dear!" Mimzy glanced at Al when he spoke, then turned back to you with a kind smile. "How ya doin suga~? Did my voice blow you away?" Feeling uncertain, you wondered if she was going to treat you differently if she knew you were a mute. She seemed friendly enough, plus Al said she was a good friend. Slowly you grabbed your phone and typed out what you wanted to say to Mimzy.

𝚈𝚎𝚜! 𝙸 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎. 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚎, 𝚜𝚘 𝙸 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚍𝚍.

After the voice played, you pointed your eyes to the ground, feeling very shy. Clenching your hands under the table, you worried Mimzy was going to mock you for not speaking. "Oh my satan! Alastor, where did you find this angel? She is simply precious!" Mimzy had grabbed your cheeks, and began to squish them, like what a mother would do to a baby. "She had arrived in Hell a few months ago! She is a shy little one!" Alastor chuckled as he watched Mimzy coo at you. "No apologies needed suga~! Just happy you enjoyed the show! Here, let me give you a VIP pass so you can visit with no problems. Okay, darling?" Mimzy let go of your cheeks, and handed you the card. She had a very motherly side to her, which you liked. Grabbing the card, you nodded your head and smiled. Mimzy smiled and hugged you again. She then departed both of you as she had to meet up with some gents on the other side of the room. Both you and Alastor stayed at the club for a little bit, chatting about certain topics until you realized it had gotten late. Exiting the building, both you and Alastor decided to walk back to the hotel. Could have teleported, but the breeze was nice plus you both needed to stretch your legs after sitting for a long time. Your arm was hooked with Al's as he walked with you. Always such a gentleman. After walking for a couple of minutes, Alastor had stopped in his tracks. "My dear, may I ask you a question?" Alastor turned towards you, as he let your arm go, as he left you to stand in front of him. Staring into his eyes, you looked to see if there was any evidence of anger in them, but you found none. There was a little hint of sadness though, yet Alastor was still smiling. "I noticed during conversations with others, you always apologize! Why is that, my dear?" Tilting his head at you, he waited for your response.

Painful memories from your past began to flash in your mind once Alastor asked that question. Tears started to form, but they were blinked away. Reaching for your phone with trembling hands, you slowly wrote your answer and played it for Al.

𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚠 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚢, 𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚊 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍𝚘. 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠���𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝. 𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖, 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗.

Tears rolled down your cheeks, as you pointed your head to the ground. Everything you felt from back then began to pour out of you, and you couldn't stop. Alastor was silent in front of you, and you figured he was upset with you, but before you could type a response, you were caught off when you felt someone wrap their arms around you. You found your head being placed in the crook of his neck, as he held you tightly. HE WAS HUGGING YOU?!? The last months while staying at the hotel, you were able to find out that Alastor didn't liked being touch. Yes, he would touch you and the others, but it mostly involved an arm hook, slight shoulder hug or head pat. You never expected that Al would be hugging you like this. After a few seconds, he began to speak. "I am truly sorry you had to suffer through that, my dear! But let me tell you this, people who mock and taunt others for being odd or a little strange are the ẗ̸̝́r̴̦̒u̵̦̅ē̴̢ ̶̰̈́s̴̱̈c̷̪͒ù̶̧m̶͇͐ ̸͎̔ò̴̦f̸͔̈́ ̶̦̃t̶͈̽h̶̟͌ȩ̴̾ ̴̯̀è̴͍a̴̞͝r̸͙̊t̸̰̕h̸̤̉! They are the true monsters! Don't believe their heinous words! To me, you are the sweetest and most unique demon in all of the seven rings! Never apologize for being the way you are ever again!" His words made you cry even more. Moving your hands slowly, you placed them on his back, tightening the hug. You felt the slight flinch from his body when you did that, but he slowly relaxed and squeezed you tighter.

The hug lasted for a bit before Al slowly released you, snapping his fingers to have a handkerchief appear in his hands, as he wiped your tears away. Once he finished, he leaned down and placed his hands on the sides of your mouth, moving them up to make it appear you were smiling. "Come on, my dear! Smile!" The smile on his face was outstretched, revealing all of his sharp teeth. His antics never ceased to make you laugh. Looking at him, you gave him a great big smile. Chuckling, Al leaned back up and grabbed your arm again, continuing his walk back to the hotel. After about a few minutes of walking, you both stopped in your tracks as an unknown voice called out to the both of you. "Well well well, if it isn't the Radio Demon."

*(TO BE CONTINUED)*

Part 1 of the Story is Here

Part 3 of the story is Here

[javiscigarette]

Emergency Contact

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: Frankie gets in trouble and this is the last time you're helping him. At least that's what you tell yourself.

Warnings: angst, smut, post break up, mentions of drug/alchol use/abuse, military ptsd, frankie on a downward spiral and needs to get his shit together, emotional smut because I had to, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, frankie is literally this emoji -> 🥺 the whole time

w/c: 6.8K

a/n: part of @iamasaddie writing challenge 2.0!!! I picked puppy eyes brown and my genre was angst with the prompt: "Tell me how to fix this." And guys listen. I literally never write angst I’m such a softy but I tried my best with this okay! and I obviously had to include some smut I just couldn't resist hehehe. Also thank u to my baby love @undrthelights for finding theses pics and for everything else you do :) enjoy!

my masterlist

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain.  But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath. “Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

The vibrations of your phone buzzing on your nightstand pulls you from a deep slumber, your heart is already pounding at the sudden noise, the rest of your body slow and sluggish as you try to gain your bearings. 

You paw for your phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen when you find it. A call from a number you don't recognize. You debate letting it go to voicemail but the area code is local and that makes you pick up, a raspy Hello? leaving your mouth as you roll over in bed, glancing at the clock. 

2:13 am.

The sound of your name crackles down the line, the immediately recognizable voice causing your heart to plummet to your ass.  

"Frankie?" You ask, sleep quickly leaving you as tension takes its place.

"...Yeah, sorry, I…I didn't know who else to call." His voice is frail and pinched.

You don't have to ask him what's wrong, your brain already piecing the puzzle together You've been in this exact position before. The anger is already starting to creep in, your brow furrowed and stomach twisting as a familiar rage blooms in your chest.

"You couldn't have called anyone else?"

You know the answer is no. The rest of the boys are on a mission, leaving him behind after he failed on his promise to stay clean for long enough to get cleared to go. And now, you’ve fallen victim to that decision too,being the only person left to call whenever he finds himself without a leg to stand on. Frankie in trouble, you bailing him out. Just like normal. 

"I'm sorry I didn't want to bother you I just..." he takes a deep breath and sighs. "I'm at the station on Oak street. Can you maybe... pick me up?"

You close your eyes and take a moment to compose yourself and reign in the anger at the way he's gotten under your skin already.

"What did you do this time, Frankie?"

He's quiet for a second before he finally says, "DUI. And um, slightly resisting arrest? It’s uh, it’s my first one and I didn’t blow too high so they’re letting me go as long as I show up for court in a few days."

His voice is soft but you can hear him fighting back emotion, his voice cracking and straining under the pressure. the sound eliciting sympathy you desperately wish you didn't feel.

"Jesus, Frankie," you sigh, defeated already.

It shouldn't even faze you at this point. It should be expected given the path he's fallen down since his return home from their last mission 3 months ago. The Frankie you knew before he left had been a steady force. Protective, headstrong but soft in his demeanor, so sweet and full of love. The man now standing in his shoes still holds some traits of that Frankie, but they've all been scarred and tainted with his fall from grace.

Memories of the nights spent tucked in his bed, his arms around you, his hands buried in your hair come flooding back like they usually do. The sound of his laugh, the feel of the downy hairs on his forearm pressed against your skin and the steady thrum of his pulse under his jaw as you placed kisses against his neck. The words you would speak softly to one another in the early hours of the morning, secrets only shared with each other under the protection of black velvet night sky. 

All of it traded for bitter resentment and anger towards a version of the man that was ripped away from you.

When he was gone, you’d sleep in his shirts and on his pillow, clinging to the faded scent of his cologne as your brain conjured up ghost touches from his fingertips. Dreaming of the day that he'd come home, how he might touch you, and kiss you, the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin on yours. A reunion so deeply desired that the day after he returned was a sharp double edged sword - a blessing, and a curse. The Frankie that walked back in your life was broken, smothered with the weight of the innocent lives on his hands. 

Warmth and tenderness traded for stony silence. Nights now spent at the bar, warming himself up with vodka instead of your embrace. Fights ending in harsh words and raised voices as he stubbornly dug his heels in deep, too ashamed to admit he needed help. Staying out late with no warning and coming back at dawn smelling of smoke, weed, and liquor. You are always wondering where he went, who he was with, if he was safe, or if he’d found someone else to soothe the pain. 

Then the coke. An old habit that was kicked to the curb in his earlier years now back with a vengeance. Your ultimatum quickly following.

This or you.

A choice you prayed he'd be strong enough to make, but was clearly not.

And now here you are. Two months since you walked away, trying to convince yourself it was for the best. The majority of the last two months of his life is a mystery to you, which you've accepted is probably for the better. 

"I know," he finally replies. "I'm so sorry baby, you know I..."

You can almost hear the way his jaw snaps shut, three words catching on his tongue. You don't need to ask to know what the next words are. Tonight was not the first time he's tried to use them in a vain attempt to patch up a crack in the foundation of your crumbling relationship.

There’s nothing but silence on the line as a war wages within you. Part of you wants to believe that he’s the selfish, careless man that he’s recently proven himself to be. But your heart whispers in your ear a softer notion. He's scared. Fragile. Battered. Embarrassed. Alone.

With a heavy sigh, you run your hand down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe away some of the grogginess clinging to you.

"I'll be there in 20," you say.

There's a pause before he speaks, "Really?"

Always an air of disbelief.

"Yes. But this is the last time I'm doing this Frankie, I mean it,"

"I know, I... thank you."

You don't bother to reply, simply hanging up the phone as the heaviness of this final gesture sets in. The gravity of the situation, of the line you're about to cross, already threatening to consume you.

This will, without a shadow of a doubt, be the last time you show up to save Frankie’s ass. 

At least that’s what you tell yourself. Just like you told yourself the last time this happened and the time before that. But this time will be different. You'll set new boundaries. That's it, just ride this storm one final time and be done.

You know it’s a lie, one you desperately want to believe it.

___

He’s standing outside the doors of the small station, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, wisps of smoke rising and dissipating in the still night air. He looks up as he hears the engine of your car approaching, the red glow of his cigarette temporarily highlighting the deep frown on his lips as he takes one last drag before he flicks the butt aside and heads your way.

The anxiety radiating off of him is tangible as he drops into the passenger's seat, gently shutting the door and peering at you with wide puppy dog eyes full of shame. You don't look at him, focusing on backing out of the parking spot before pulling onto the road.

He picks at the skin around his thumb and bounces his leg, his jaw tight. You wonder how long he’s been at the station. How long he’s been sober. You’re still not sure if he entirely is right now.

Most of the ride is silent save for the hum of your engine and the clicks of your turn signal. His eyes never leave you, he can feel him boring a hole in your profile, trying to catch your eye as you watch the road.

"What?" you finally snap.

"Nothing, just...I was wondering if I could stay with you tonight. I can sleep on the couch, I…I don’t really want to be alone right now" he speaks so softly it makes your stomach lurch.

"Absolutely not."

"Please? I'll leave early in the morning, by the time you wake up I'll be long gone."

The rage is back, glowing red hot in your chest, fingernails digging into the leather of the steering wheel, your knuckles white and tense. How fucking dare he ask. 

"Absolutely. Fucking. Not," your grit your teeth with each word, biting off the end of the sentence with a sharp finality.

"Right. Okay."

Silence takes over once again, your heart slamming against your chest, heat crawling up your neck as your cheeks grow red and damp. No. No. Absolutely fucking not. Absolutely not.

Frankie leans his head back against the headrest and rolls it to the side to watch you again. You can feel the disappointment radiating off him, hear him sniffling, his eyes, big and glassy, pleading when you glance over at him. 

It would be a lie to tell yourself that your “plan” isn't already halfway out the window as your jaw clenches and your gaze ping pongs between the road ahead and the man beside you. Deep in the darkness of your soul you know that with Frankie is where your comfort lies. It’s tucked in the space between his ribs, squished alongside his heart and lungs, running the length of his spine and settling between each vertebrae. You worry you may never be able to completely dislodge it, unsure if it would ever fit anywhere else in any other person.

Maybe it would be easier if Frankie didn't fill up the cracks in your heart with the fractured parts of his. If he didn't take up room in your brain that's not his to own, if he didn’t crawl under your skin and take root into your DNA. Now every cell in your body knows what it feels like to be next to him, now programmed to cry out for his presence when he isn’t near.

And it’s no different now. He’s here, looking so pathetic it’s almost laughable, staring at you with tears sliding down his cheeks that glisten in the glow of the headlights passing you by. Crying over something that’s entirely his fault. You should be the one crying right now. Not him. 

So you do. 

Hot angry tears spilling over your lash line. Though you can’t decide who you’re more upset with. The man who drank himself out of your life, or yourself for falling for him once again in spite of it all. Either way, it’s not enough to convince yourself to stay firm in your decision. 

Fucking pathetic. Both of you. 

“You’re out first thing in the morning and then I’m done Frankie. I fucking mean it this time, we can't keep doing this to each other."

“Okay. I promise baby, I will. First thing, I promise." He replies quietly. 

Your hand flinches with the urge to reach over and slap him for calling you baby. But instead, you clench your jaw and you shake your head at him.

"Don’t call me that, Frankie."

He quickly nods his head in understanding, his eyes again facing forward as he wipes away the wetness from his cheeks, watching the road the rest of the way to your house. 

—

Neither of you move once the car is parked in your driveway. The silence is heavy, cut only by the tick of the engine slowly cooling once you remove the keys from the ignition. You chance a look at him and find him picking at his thumb once more, his face red, his eyes soft and timid when they meet yours. 

“Tell me what happened, Frankie?” 

You ask even though you don’t really want to know. 

Frankie sucks in a breath and scrubs a hand down his face. 

"I got into a fight at the bar, got kicked out, made the dumb fucking decision to try and drive home and...now I'm here," he laughs mirthlessly as he waves his hands as a vague gesture to you, your house, his current situation. You can't tell if he's telling you the whole story, his answer simple and devoid of context. The context you’re sure wouldn't be good for you to know. 

“You could’ve killed someone, Frankie. yourself included,” you say after a few beats, your voice comes out sharp, frustration bleeding in each syllable.

He slowly nods as huffs out a breath.

"I know... it was stupid, and I was an idiot I...shit I was really careless and not thinking straight I’m sorry. I'm really sorry I-"

"I mean seriously Frankie,” you snap, cutting him off. “Do you ever, I mean ever, think about anyone but yourself? Or has it genuinely never crossed your mind that your shit might possibly affect the people around you?"

Frankie opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he's about to respond. You don’t give him a chance to. 

"How many more times are you going to take advantage of me, make me look like a fucking dumbass always showing up to rescue you? Why am I always the one covering for you, taking your crap, cleaning up your messes, only to have you throw it right back in my fucking face, every single time!"

Your voice cracks at the end of your sentence, chest heaving with each word that flies from your mouth. Two months worth of bitterness bubbling up from deep down, spilling over and cascading down your face in the form of frustrated tears.

"When did you become so fucking selfish, Francisco?!"

Hearing his full name fall from your lips spurs Frankie on, the last of his shards of resolve flying away as his walls come down.

"I don't fucking know okay?! I don't fucking know!" You flinch at the rise in his voice and his tone stings. But it's how quickly he follows up with a softer, feeble excuse that adds fuel to the fire, "I'm doing the best I can."

That does it for you. Hot searing molten rage pulses under the skin of your face, the tips of your ears hot with blood.

"Doing the best you can? The best you fucking can, Frankie? Fucking bullshit! Getting into bar fights, spending all your money on booze and blow, losing your fucking pilot license because you were too coked up to see straight? Was losing your driver's license just putting your best foot forward? Throwing your whole life away just because you refuse to get clean? Is that really the best you can do?"

You pause and swallow, giving Frankie a second to take it all in, letting him process the onslaught of scalding truths you've thrown at him, before you quietly continue,

"I can't keep doing this, Frankie. I just can't."

He sniffs and shakes his head in what appears to be defeat, his gaze fixed on his hands folded in his lap. 

“I know...fuck. I know I’ve fucked up alright? I know that. I just don't know how to fix this," he admits quietly, his wide eyes watching you helplessly. “Tell me how. Tell me how I can fix this. Please."

You bark out a laugh, sarcastic and cynical.

"Are you serious right now? What do you mean you don’t know what to do? How many times did I help you try to find a therapist, try to get you into a program? How many times did I suggest AA? Don't fucking tell me you don't know what to do because you do."

He nods, shifting around in the seat, sniffling yet again as he looks back at you. "Okay, okay. I get it, okay? But what can I do right now? To fix this at least for tonight?"

You sigh, deep and heavy, your entire body now just exhausted. You half wish he would put up more of a fight, call you a bitch, snap back at you for going off on him. Maybe it’d make it easier for you to let him go. But instead, he looks at you with desperate eyes and you can feel your resolve crumbling once again. 

"Just forget it, Frankie.”

But he won’t give up that easily. The man is persistent, you’ll give him that. 

"I'm serious. Tell me what I need to do right now to fix this. What can I do to show you how sorry I am?"

You stare back at him, jaw clenched, biting back the next words you were about to speak. They die on the edge of your tongue. You know the answer is.

Not a single damn thing.

"Look, I'll try harder, I fucking promise alright?” His tone becomes more frantic as your silence stretches on. “I’ll fucking try harder, please just...please," Frankie pleads, more tears welling in his eyes.

Your throat is tight, your head spinning and aching as your blood roars in your ears. He's already taken enough, stealing more would simply be the end of you. Giving in now would mean you've swallowed the bait, falling hook line and sinker into his trap, stepping back onto the slippery slope you've fought so hard to escape. And for what? More heartache, more bullshit excuses, more fighting, more pain?

But one glance into his wide-eyed, watery gaze and you know he's got you. Again. Faster than you can tell your mind no, your heart, foolish and hopeful, speaks for you instead.

"Lets just get some sleep, okay? It's late. We can...we can figure it out tomorrow."

"Thank you," he whispers immediately, relief coming off of him in waves. "I really mean it, I-thank you, I promise I’ll—“

“Can we not talk anymore Frankie? I just wanna go to sleep."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, let’s go."

There's nothing left to say, washing over the two of you as you make your way inside. You give him a towel and dig up some of his old clothes that live in the back of your closet from when he was here almost every night. You're back in bed before he’s done with his shower, tucked underneath the covers with your face pressed against your pillow, the silk fabric soaking up your tears of sadness and frustration.

The water shuts off and you can hear him getting settled in the living room. A pillow being fluffed, the creak of the couch when he sits. 

And then soft footsteps on the hardwood 5 minutes later, padding their way into your room.

He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t bother speaking either. He just simply creaks open the door and walks over to the other side of the bed, peeling back the covers before slipping into bed beside you. 

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain. 

But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath.

“Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

You don’t have any fight left in you. Because at the end of the day, a night spent wrapped up in his arms, inhaling his scent, touching his skin and his beating heart is worth a thousand fights. And a million shattered dreams.

You don’t answer him, but you don’t tell him to leave either. Instead, you block out any looming thoughts, the impending worry of where this could go, or how bad the damage will be. For now, you chose to focus on the rise and fall of Frankie's breath against your skin, the way you fit so perfectly into his arms. 

One more night.

Frankie presses a kiss into the back of your neck, repeating his previous sentiment in a rough scratchy whisper, "Just one more."

And you listen to it resonate, bouncing around the walls in your head and tickling the space behind your eardrums.

Inhale

Exhale.

You should want to fight.

But instead, your body melts his, molding your bones and flesh against his, fitting into all the creases and gaps that have been carved out and reserved just for you.Trying to forget, to bury this pain as deep as possible,. Just for tonight. 

He waits a few more minutes, waiting until your breathing levels out with his before he makes his next move. His fingers trace mindless patterns on the skin of your stomach, goosebumps erupting under his fingertips, rippling outwards like a rock being tossed in a pond. He leans in once more, slowly dragging his nose up the length of your neck and curling his lip to press another kiss behind your ear. Then another.

And then another, this time lingering as he sucks softly on your skin.

Inhale.

You close your eyes, hoping for anything but this, yet feeling the sting of arousal spark below your skin.

And exhale. 

You’re better than this. You won’t stoop down to his level, you won’t let him chew you up and spit you out again.

But fuck, his lips are soft and warm, so is the breath as he exhales against your neck, lightly swiping his tongue and soothing the faint red mark he left behind with a small little hum.

“Frankie..." You warn, albeit much more breathless and weak than you would have liked. 

“Tell me to stop and I will," he murmurs, his beard gently grazing your sensitive skin, causing your toes to curl.

You take another deep breath, but this one is shaky, as you can't help but tighten your grip around his hand, squeezing his fingers as you lean your neck to the side, exposing more of your soft skin to him.

Dead in his trap. Caught so fucking easily. Pathetic.

But if his teeth and lips and tongue and soft, gentle touches are how you go down, then so fucking be it.

He hums his appreciation against your skin, scraping his teeth down to your shoulder, latching his mouth on a spot and sucking harder. Strong, callused fingers continue exploring, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to give him permission.

He rolls his hips forward against your ass and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper at how hard he is against you, his soft grunts in your ear traveling straight between your legs and fanning the flames building.

Then suddenly, he's sliding his hand up your shirt, squeezing your waist and traipsing over your chest until he’s cradling the weight of your breast in his palm, his thumb slowly brushing over your peaked nipple, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to moan out loud.

A small gasp escapes you instead, your fingernails digging into the back of his hand. 

"Frankie."

This time not a warning. It’s a plea. A desperate, burning want that you should be ashamed of. 

He murmurs into the shell of your ear then, his tone is deep and scratchy. 

“I miss you...I need you, baby. Just tell me to stop if you want. But I... fuck I miss you so much."

You don't tell him to stop.

You roll your hips back instinctively, a warm wave of arousal washing over you at the feeling Frankie's hardened length pressed firmly against your ass. He grunts in satisfaction as his palm slides from your chest and up your throat to your jaw. His grip is gentle as he turns your head to face him, his lips against yours without missing a beat. 

It’s too easy to fall right back into him, back into the practiced, very well rehearsed routine. To let him glide his tongue along the seam of your lips and coax them open so he can lick into your mouth, getting the taste of his tongue stuck behind your teeth. Too easy to let him remind you just how easily you fit in the palm of his hand, how tightly you’re wound around his finger. 

He kisses you fervently, desperately almost, lips and tongue moving against yours as though he’s trying to devour you whole, just like he used to. He’s been starving for too long.But right now, he's finally found nourishment, the feeling of your body under his hands and the taste of you on his tongue feeding his soul. Wanting more. Always more, entirely unable to help himself.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs, his mouth half a centimeter away from yours. “Let me make you feel good baby, please.”

As if you could say no.

As if you even wanted to.

He pushes his leg between yours, thick, firm muscle under warm skin pressing against your clothed core and you answer him with a roll of your hips, seeking out any sort of friction you can. 

It takes less than half a second for him to have you flipped over on your back. When Frankie truly wants something, he does it quickly and efficiently.

He moves above you, licking and kissing a trail down your neck. He makes his way down your body, greedily nipping at the skin stretched over your collarbones. He swirls his tongue over each nipple, only moving on when he’s satisfied. He presses wet, open mouthed kisses to your ribs and your tummy just above your navel, his beard tickling skin, making it twitch under his mouth. 

Your body is cooperating far more than it should, your hips lifting up instinctually when he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties, your thighs automatically parting further, and your hands migrating to his head. Your fingers tangle in his soft curl, your nails softly scratching his scalp just like you know he likes. 

And when his tongue drags up your thigh you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop the reactive moan. But your back arches with pleasure anyway, the last bit of your resolve evaporating into thin air as you give into him freely.  

His hands burn hot where they smooth over your skin, a comforting weight and a familiar drag of calloused palms fueling the fire and tightening the coil in your stomach. 

“Missed you so much,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your pussy before you feel the first stroke of his flat tongue up through your center.

This time, you're not strong enough to hold back the breathless mewl that leaves your mouth. You immediately push down on his head while simultaneously canting your hips upward, needing more friction, dying for more of everything he's willing to offer. He slides his arms underneath you and hooks his hand over your hip bones, holding you down and keeping you in place as he tries to find salvation between your thighs.

Heavy breaths through his nose as he uses his mouth, lips and tongue working in tandem to take you apart. Lapping and sucking at your clit while his fingertips nudge at your entrance, dipping just enough to tease, waiting until he hears the high pitched whimpers that he's after.

And when you've reached that level of desperation he wants from you, whimpering and panting, he slowly dips a finger in.

He moans along with you as though he's the one experiencing the pleasure. He's always gotten off on this almost just as much as you. The warm, slick slide of his fingers in and out of you, how you gush on his tongue, your thighs trembling on either side of his head, the tingle of his scalp when you tug on his hair.

More addictive than any substance he's ever found solace in.

And against your better knowledge, you're more than happy to indulge him, let him chase the high you give him and let yourself drown in it as well.

Your back arches off the bed as he adds another finger, grunting into you and thrusting faster as you tighten and flutter around them. He finds the spot he's looking for with practiced ease, whimpering into you and groaning along with you as he drags his fingers back and forth along the spot that has you bucking your hips into his hand. 

He knows how to get you there. Knows how to do it fast. And right now, that's what he wants. He's craved it too long, spent far too many nights with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock your name on the tip of his tongue as he fucked up into his own hand. He wants to hear you fall apart again, feel you coming on his tongue, your walls clenching as they try to suck his fingers in deeper. Wantsto know that he hasn't ruined absolutely everything between the two of you.

"Come on baby, lemme feel you,” he urges, voice deep and rough as he brings you to the edge. His mouth, licking and sucking at your clit, works in perfect rhythm with his fingers, sliding in and out, crooking them at the exact angle and speed he knows will get you there. 

"Please, Frankie...need to– fuck, I'm..." Coherent words evade you as he works you towards your peak, your breath stuttering as you struggle to keep air in your lungs. Your grip tightens in his hair, tugging roughly in an effort to ground yourself as the wave of euphoria starts to crest, the undercurrent pulling you down. 

Frankie growls in approval as you tighten around his fingers, all your muscles tensing as the sensation crashes into you. Your mind and body shut off and float into that sweet state of oblivion as Frankie's name falls from your lips, mixed in with a litany of profanity and slurs and choked back moans. He doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down until you're yanking on his hair hard enough for it to hurt, trying to wiggle away from his touch.

Frankie raises his head up and locks eyes with you, the tip of his nose, beard, and cheeks shiny with your arousal as he looks up at you through his dark, heavy lidded lashes.

"Want you so bad," he sighs, breathless and needy, crawling up your body and resting his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. He kisses you again, soft and sweet as if he has the right, tasting yourself on his tongue. 

You whimper into the kiss and hook a leg over his hip to pull his hips towards you. His cock strains almost painfully in his boxers when he grinds it against you, your warm arousal dampening the front of the fabric.

"Gonna let me baby?" He rasps when he moves to your neck, his teeth scraping sensitive flesh.

You both already know he's won. You're not even putting up a fight at this point, any dignity you thought you had left totally abandoned the moment you picked up the phone. But he asks anyway, needing the verbal affirmation, needing the confirmation that you want him as badly as he needs you.

And you can't lie.You're both equally weak and vulnerable. Two pathetic, heartbroken creatures chasing a temporary relief. A small glimmer of something to make the pain more bearable, something to fill the hole for the briefest amount of time.

You both know. And neither of you care.

No response to his question. Instead, you push up the hem of his shirt up and he does the rest, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor before he hooks a thumb underneath the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down his hips and off his legs.

Your hand finds his cock and he hisses at the contact, his hips shuddering as he pushes forward into your grip. You swear he's thicker and longer than before, heavier and hotter where you hold him. Your thumb brushes over the tip, spreading the pearls of pre cum around, coating the rest of his length to ease your glide. Frankie's mouth finds your neck again, tongue and lips tasting and teasing, his shaky breath in your ear.

You try to push up onto your elbows in an effort to roll him over, wanting to take over. But a palm finds your chest, gently pushing you back down until your flat against the bed again. 

"Wanna look at you," he says simply, as he pushes his length into the palm of your hand once more before sliding out. 

He lets his length rest against your sensitive clit and gently rocks his hips, slicking himself with the mess between your legs, sighing whenever you gasp each time his tip nudges at your clit.

"Please..." you whisper, feeling pathetic and needy, but at this point too desperate to care.

And he’s equally impatient, not waiting another moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing in. 

You tense at the initial intrusion, not having been with anyone in far too long and the feeling is almost overwhelming. You're trying to remember how to breathe again as you let your head fall to the side, trying to hide from his intense stare. But Frankie's there, using a gentle finger to tilt your face back up towards him as his hips moving at an agonizingly slow pace to let you adjust.

"That's it baby. Look at me."

And you do, the heat in your belly burning brighter with his eyes boring into yours as he witnesses your surrender to him. Your heart aches, still raw and tender and in pain from all the hurt that's transpired. But you ignore it and tell yourself the tears in your eyes aren't a result of a broken heart, but rather of how full you feel as Frankie's length finally bottoms out in you.

"Fuck..." You both curse under your breath as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust before he starts to move his hips. You cling to his broad shoulders as he pulls out of you, his eyes glued to where you’re joined, his thick cock slick and shiny with your arousal before he slides back in again with a quiet groan. He repeats the motions over and over watching as he pulls out almost completely before pushing back in, stuffing you to the hilt.

"Shit,” he hisses under his breath, his eyelashes fluttering when you clench in response. “You feel so good baby, fuck."

He buries his face into your neck, panting and pressing soft kisses as his pace starts to speed up. The soft grunts in your ear turn into more desperate moans when you lock your legs around his waist, pulling him, trying to get him even deeper than he already is. 

Your fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders, holding on for dear life, hoping that you’ll leave half crescent moon shapes embedded into his flesh. A painful reminder for the morning that you were here and this was real, despite the circumstances.

His hands slide under your ass, angling it upwards to let him hit just that little bit deeper inside, pushing the air from your lungs with each thrust. The muscles in his forearms flex and strain as he tries to hold back, always making sure you finish before he does. 

And he doesn't have to wait much longer. Your orgasm is creeping up and taking over your body and Frankie can sense it. He knows exactly what to look for, knows all the signs.

One hand moves to reach between the two of you two fingertips pressed against your pulsing clit, drawing fast, tight circles just like you like it. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, your nails digging into the skin and dragging down his back as his thrusts become more erratic. 

"Keep lookin' at me," he grunts and you struggle to keep your eyes open. They sting, the image of him above you starting to blur around the edges as he drives you closer and closer to your release.

"That's it, baby. Lemme see it, lemme see you come on my cock."

He doesn't have to tell you twice.

You come undone again just like that, dizziness spreading and heart hammering in your chest as you sob out, pleasure consuming you from within. He fucks you through it, not giving you a chance to catch your breath, as he curses and rambles in your ear about how he's missed this, how he's missed you.

You've barely started to come down when he grabs one of your legs behind your knee and pushes it into your chest, letting himself sink even deeper into you. The new angle has your head spinning, drowning in an unparalleled amount of pleasure. Your eyes flutter and roll back in your head as you whimper his name, fingers curling into the pillow above your head.

He doesn't last much longer, breathless moans and strangled whimpers into your neck as he gives you the last few sloppy thrusts. He's almost there, and when he tries to pull out, it's the way your leg tightens around his waste and your needy whine that sends him over the edge, groaning and cursing with his face in the crook of your neck as he spills himself into you.

His cock pulses inside you with every wave, his hips chasing his release, tiny jerks as he empties into you. He stills, his heavy breathing in your ear, his weight resting on you, heavy but grounding, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

Once the room stops spinning and the stars clear from behind your eyes, you drop your legs. With a shaky sigh, Frankie starts to pull out, both of you groaning in protest as he slips out.

His cum leaks out of you, quickly pooling between your thighs no matter how hard you squeeze your legs together. And when he catches sight of it, it makes your face burn. At the mere sight of his sticky, warm release spilling out of you, mixing with your own, Frankie swears he could go another round right then. Something about knowing he marked his territory, his claim on you established once again. He looks up at you, your eyes closed, forehead creased, and he has to dig his nails into his palm to keep from dragging his fingers through the cum leaking out of you and pushing it back in, keeping it where it should be. 

But the weight of reality is starting to press on him once again, the fear and shame from earlier taking root again and tugging at his stomach and pulling him out of the euphoria.

He kisses your hip bone once before making his way to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. The room is silent as he cleans you up, wiping gently between your legs, both of you keeping your eyes on anything except each other's. 

When he's done, he stands and moves to gather his clothes off the floor, tugging his boxers back on before heading towards the door. But your shaky, watery voice breaks the silence and freezes him where he stands.

"You're leaving?" You ask, voice squeaking at the end as you pull the sheet up to cover yourself, as if it would protect your heart when he ultimately breaks it again.

He turns to look at you, his heart aching in his chest from the innocent way you're looking at him. The way your eyebrows draw together, and your lips pull into a frown, the way your lower lip trembles as your eyes fill with tears.

"Can I stay?"

His voice is quiet, fragile, as if speaking any louder would scare you off, would cause you to start yelling at him again until you ultimately kick him to the curb for good.

He stares at you through the darkness of the room as you chew on your lip and try to grapple with the split decision you’re facing.

The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say no and end this right here and now. But that part of your brain is buried and silenced underneath the heaviness in your heart. That desperate need to hang onto whatever's left. You swallow the lump in your throat and give in.

"Please," you plead softly. "Don't...don't want to be alone anymore."

A rush of air leaves his lungs as the pressure is released from his chest as he climbs back into bed beside you. Your head finds his chest, curled into his side and letting his arms wrap around you. His embrace is familiar, comforting, your safe space.

You count the steady beats of his heart in your ear as his blunt fingernail scrape lightly up and down your back, knowing it always soothes you. No words are spoken but the air between the two of you is thick, full of the things you both want to say, but neither of you speak.

Sleep wraps its tendrils around you once again, exhaustion settling in your bones. You welcome it fully, even though you know when you wake up, you'll have to face the reality of the situation once again.

You can only hope that he'll still be here in the morning to face it with you.

For now, you let yourself drown in the warmth of his embrace, pushing away all the other things that are gnawing at you and letting yourself relax in the arms of the man who broke your heart.

Just one more night.

Thank you for reading!! :))

[ham-st4r]

𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓹𝓽.2 - 𝓛. 𝓗𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰

📞Pairing: heeseung + female reader!

Warnings: smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, cursing.

Genre: POS (phone sex operator) heeseung.

Summary: After your steamy call with Ethan, you find yourself thinking about him weeks later, and the temptation to call him was far too strong to avoid.

Number of words: 3,134k

Sorry for the wait this 🗑️ is definitely not worth it but i tried bro😔also probably a lot of mistakes but i couldn’t re-read it another time 💀

Pt.1

Find your way around!

Needless to say, heeseung had been thinking of you for the past couple of weeks. Unfortunately, you hadn’t called him again like he once thought you might of, and it may have been affecting him a little.

Who was he kidding? It was affecting him a lot, and he didn’t even really know why.

Every day, he was waiting on a call from you. Every time his phone rang, he was expecting to hear your sweet voice on the other end again, but alas, he never heard from you.

It was well past midnight, and he was still up taking calls. It was always busy for him around this time of night, but he wasn’t feeling up to it, so after a few more, he’d turn his active status to off.

His night was slowly but surely starting to come to a close a few hours later, so he figured he’d take one last call.

He let out one long sigh as he reclined on his bed. “Last one,” he mumbled to himself, getting into character before pressing the answer button. “Hello, sweetheart. How can I be of service to you tonight?” He says enthusiastically into his speaker despite not having any enthusiasm whatsoever.

You don’t even know why you were thinking of Ethan so much, but you just couldn’t help it. Maybe it was because he gave you that mind-blowing orgasm over the phone, or maybe it was because of how sweetly he talked you through it. Either way, he was still on your mind, and you could barely focus in class.

You contemplated calling him once you got home, but once you got there and, took a shower and sat comfortably on your bed with your phone in your trembling hands, you just couldn’t do it.

No matter how badly you wanted to, the idea just made you feel incredibly nervous and even embarrassed to an extent.

Especially after touching yourself and him hearing literally everything.

You cupped your warm cheeks in your palm, plopping down on your bed. “Ugh, what do I do?” You’ve been wanting to call him for weeks, but you know what: it’s now or never. Without thinking rationally, you sit up on your bed and press the call button, not giving yourself a second chance to regret your decision.

The first couple of rings went by, and you were going to hang up, but before you did, Ethan answered. “Hello, sweetheart. How can I be of service to you tonight?” Your whole body was literally shaking with nerves and a hint of excitement. He sounded just as heavenly as the first time you called him, or maybe even better.

Your mind went back to that night, thinking about when he guided you to bliss and came while moaning his name. There was a bubble of excitement forming in your stomach at the thought of reliving that night with him again.

Heeseung frowned when he didn’t get an answer. He looked at his phone, seeing that it was still connected, before trying again. “Sweetheart?” He called out softly, and he still didn’t get a response. Oddly enough, it reminded him of the night you first called. He remembered how shy and timid you were. Thinking back on it, he smiled at the thought of it, but then it clicked the timing, the timidness. Somehow, he just had a feeling that it was you, and he quickly sat up on his bed. “Angel?” He said, and his heart was literally pounding in his chest.

“H-hi, Ethan,” you mumbled out shyly into the speaker once you calmed yourself.

He melted the instant he heard your sweet voice. “Angel,” he said, sounding a bit too excited for you just to be another one of his customers, but he couldn’t help it. It was you. You had finally called him back after weeks. “I’ve been thinking about you,” he whispers softly.

He had only said a few words, but you already felt dizzy and drunk on his voice alone. “M-me too,” you nibbled on your lip and you didn’t realize it was possible to be this nervous on a phone call seeing how you’ve already done it before.

“Have you now?” He replies cockily, and there’s a slight teasing hint in his tone. “What about me have you been thinking about Angel?”

“Everything,” you answer simply, and he can hear your breath audibly shake.

“Ohh, come on, that’s no fun now, is it?” He chuckled at your vague answer, and somehow, even his laugh sounded hot to you. “You wanna know what I’ve been thinking about you?” He switches his position on the bed to a more comfortable one and rests his back against his headboard.

“Y-yes?” You answer unsurely.

“Angel, we’ve done this before. No need to be so timid,” he says, and evidently, he’d have to ease you into things like he did last time.

“Okay,” you breathe out, still not fully capable of answering him properly, but he doesn’t mind. The longer you stay on a call with him, the better.

“Are you sure you want to know all the things I’ve thought about it’s kind of naughty, angel.” he lowers his tone to a more seductive one and you’re still not sure how he does that so well everything he said made you feel so weak in the knees.

“Yes, I want to know,” you say softly as little tingles of anticipation fill your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he breathed into the speaker, and just the sound of his shaky breath was enough for the first glob of arousal to leak out and dampen your panties. It was embarrassing that just his voice alone could have you dripping. “I’ve thought about that sweet little pussy of yours and just how wet you got for me without me even being there” he bit his lip, thinking about that wonderful night he had the best orgasm of his life with you.

You whimper at his words, and before you could cover it, he had already heard it and was just as pretty as the first time he heard it.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” he swallowed thickly. “I wanted to be there with you so bad, teasing you, touching you, pleasuring you,” he hummed.

“Oh, Ethan,” you moaned his name as your hand traveled into your shorts, and you began rubbing yourself, too impatient to wait any longer.

“Would you like that, Angel?” He slowly laid on his back, resting his palm over his growing bulge.

“Yes,” you moaned quietly, and surely enough, all the nerves that had once controlled your body had completely dissipated, replaced with nothing but the arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“Me too. I’d kiss and lick every single last inch of your beautiful body, trace my fingers over each dip and curve until you’re begging for me.” his eyes fluttered shut at the thought as he imagined caressing you and taking his time with you until you’re writhing in pleasure underneath him. “Till you’re begging me to push it inside,” he groaned while pressing down on the tent in his jeans.

“Fuck yes,” your eyes rolled back in your head as you pushed your panties to the side and started playing with your glistening folds. “I want it so bad, Ethan.” Your inhibitions were of none as you lost yourself in the feeling.

He couldn’t help but smirk at the idea of you getting more comfortable the longer he talked to you it made him feel a sense of pride that he was able to make you show that side of yourself to him. “I can tell, couldn’t even wait for me to give you permission before you started touching yourself. Hmm,” He scolded you teasingly.

“So s-sorry, Ethan,” you whined in embarrassment.

“I’m just teasing, angel, don’t apologize. I’m doing it too,” he breathed deeply, and you heard his belt buckle, followed by the sound of his zipper. “Come on, angel, let’s do it together, yeah? Been waiting for you for so long.”

Your heart was in your stomach. Was he actually going to? Was he really thinking about you? Was he seriously waiting for you to call again? You decided not to entertain those thoughts cause, at the end of the day, this was his job, and he was acting. Of course, he wasn’t thinking of you the way you thought of him. “Okay,” you replied a little reluctantly.

“So, what have you been thinking about m-me?” He stuttered as his fingers brushed over his boxer-clad shaft.

This is the last thing you imagined you’d be saying, yet here you are, spilling your fantasies to a man named Ethan that you’ve never even met. “Your cock” you said so low he barely heard it.

He involuntarily twitched at your straightforward reply, not expecting you to say something like that so easily. “Yeah, angel? I’m stroking it right now just for you,” he whispered while caressing his length over his underwear, nice and slow.

“I wish I could do it for you,” you whimpered as you stuck a finger inside yourself, imagining it was his fingers instead.

“Me too, baby. I just know your hands would make me feel so good” he pulled his cock out of the teeny hole in his boxers, immediately swirling the head of his cock with his palm, impatiently spreading the wetness over his fully hardened shaft.

“I want nothing more than to touch your cock, Ethan,” you say boldly.

“You wanna touch me?” He unknowingly cocks his brow, trailing his hand lower as he squeezes his balls lightly before gripping the thick base of his cock and tugging on it softly.

“Hmm, mmm,” you moan softly, thumb gliding over your clit. “Wanna suck you too” You weren’t even under control of what you were saying the desire and lust you had for him clouded any and all of your better judgment.

“Naughty little thing, I see.” he laughs at the little whimper you let out, and that alone makes you clench around your finger. “It’s okay, Angel. Ethan wants it, too. Wanna feel your pretty little mouth wrapped around me. I’d do anything to feel you sucking me off so good till I cum down that precious throat. Tell me, angel, would you swallow for me? Tell me how good I taste on your tongue?”

“Hmm, yes, Ethan, I want to taste you so bad. Wanna feel your cum going down my throat,” you moaned carelessly, panting into the speaker as you added a second finger and started fucking yourself at a fast pace, the wet sounds of your pussy going straight into his ears. “I’d swallow it all for you.”

“That’s a good Angel can hear that pussys all wet for me wish I could fuck it, stuff you full of my dick, and cum inside you over and over again” At this point, he was so hard and turned on he couldn’t help but jerk his cock faster the sounds of your lewd moans and wet pussy wasn’t helping his case either, and he felt like cumming any minute.

“Yes, Ethan fuck need to feel you in my hand, in my mouth, inside of me just want you everywhere” You pushed your fingers as deep as they could go grinding your hips as you pressed the heel of your palm against your clit desperately fucking yourself to the sound of his voice and dirty talk.

“Fuck Oh my go- fuck angel,” he moaned loudly, relentlessly fisting his cock at your words. “You want that, huh? I’d give it to you so good, fill up your pretty holes cum in your mouth, and that fucking perfect little pussy, baby I’d give you it all just for being so good for me,” he grunts, the pace of his hand moving at an unimaginable speed as his high creeps up on him.

“Ethan!” You screamed, hand cramping up as you fingered yourself to the point of no return. “I’m cumming, I’m Cumming!” You moaned over and over again, feeling another orgasm coming as you kept going, not satisfied with just one.

“Ah fuck!” He threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and chasing his orgasm with you, his tip filled with precum that dribbled out with every stroke. “That’s it, my angel cum” he whimpers, seconds away from following your lead. “Cum for Ethan,” he grits his teeth, neck veins bulging out, and sweat covering his whole entire body as his hips jerk up off his bed. His eyes shoot open when the first squirt of cum spurts out from his tip. “Oh s-shit,” he whines, rubbing his cock so fast it felt raw, but it was too good to stop. “Cumming, I’m cumming” he pants, hand steadily rubbing out rope after rope of cum as it stains his chest and abdomen.

It didn’t take long at all for your second orgasm to build his voice, and the way he called you his angel had you coming undone embarrassingly quick. “Ethan, I have t-to-“ you mewled out, eyes and brows clashing together as you whimpered continuously, and it was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. “I’m cumming again,” you whine helplessly, rubbing your clit into overstimulation.

“Shit, angel again? Fuck go on cum for Ethan again” He squeezed his base tightly coaxing out every last dribble of semen. “Fuck” he whimpers, his whole body shaking violently from the intensity of his orgasm on top of the thought of you coming for him not once but twice.

“Ethan,” you whimpered softly, completely exhausted from having two mind-blowing orgasms in a row. “Feels so good,” you sighed in pleasure, caressing yourself down from your high slowly.

“Mhm, I know, angel,” he spoke softly, making the moment that much better as the waves of euphoria began to wash away from the both of you.

You hum, finally catching your breath, the faint throbbing between your legs settling as your eyes glazed over with post-orgasm bliss.

“Mhhm angel,” he whispers, spreading the copious amounts of seed over his shaft, stroking his length, and getting the most out of his orgasm until it begins to soften.

He was the first one to speak after your minds have had a chance to clear. “So…how was it?” He asks timidly, which isn’t like him at all, but when it came to you, he couldn’t help but feel shy and self-conscious about his performance, especially cause with you, he wasn’t acting. You were getting the raw, unfiltered version. With you, he was just being himself, heeseung, but with everyone else, he was Ethan, the phone sex worker.

“Good,” you say shyly, which makes a wide smile spread on his face as he reaches for some tissues to clean himself, but there is so much cum that he doesn’t even bother. After a while, he just tucked himself away, opting to take a shower before bed.

“Just good? It didn’t sound just good,” he smirks while teasing you.

“Ethan, stop,” you giggle, and you hear him laughing, which makes you even more shy as you pull your blankets up to cover your chest.

“But I’m having fun, Angel,” he chuckles.

“You are?” You asked curiously cause everything all night sounded genuine, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up cause there’s no way he actually had fun talking with you, and there was definitely no way he came with you either, but something deep down inside you wanted it to be real so you asked with a tiny glimmer of hope that this wasn’t one-sided.

“Of course, angel, you’re gonna have to start calling me more often cause you made me wait too long,” he whines. “I missed you.”

“I will, Ethan. I missed you too,” you told him honestly, even though you knew he probably didn’t want to hear from you for real. You knew he was just saying that to make more money off of you, and the thought of having feelings for him kinda left a bitter taste in your mouth when you knew he didn’t care even an ounce for you. “Ethan, it’s late, so I think I’ll hang up now,” you said, feeling down even though you really didn’t have a right to. It was literally your fault for getting your hopes up and feeling any type of way about him in the first place.

“Already?” He frowned. “Why Angel? Just talk to me a little before bed, yeah?”

“I can’t…. I think I should just rest,” you whisper, feeling sleep knocking on your door. Plus, you didn’t want to talk to him longer. It’d only make you like him more, and ultimately, that would ruin your mood even more than it already is. After tonight, you probably wouldn’t call him again either cause. Apparently, you have a habit of getting attached to people who have no interest in you.

“Oh,” he mumbles disappointedly. He sucks in a breath happily, wishing you a goodnight even though he was bummed that he couldn’t talk to you longer. “Okay, well, I’ll hold you to it, angel, 'cause I really, really wanna hear from you again, okay?” He says sincerely, hoping you know he doesn’t want your money and that he genuinely wants to talk to you again soon.

“Okay,” you lie. “Goodnight, Ethan,” you yawned seconds away from sleep.

“Goodnight,” he says reluctantly, but if you were sleepy, he didn’t want to keep you up, especially since you probably had classes the next morning. “Sweet dreams, my angel,” he says just before you hang up.

He sighed softly cause a part of him wanted that call to last longer, not even for the money. Hell, at this point, when you called, he didn’t even see it as work or making money. It just felt oddly romantic in a way.

He knows it’s dumb, but when you called, he kinda felt like he was in a long-distance relationship with you, which again, he knows is stupid cause you didn’t even know him like that, but still, it was fun after a long day you’d call him, and you’d both make each other feel good like a real couple.

He just wanted to talk and talk about anything and everything with you cause your voice was so pretty, and you seemed so sweet. Maybe some nights when you called, you’d both fall asleep on the phone together or something like that.

He shook off the feeling, realizing that he was just being plain ridiculous, and went to take a shower even though his legs still felt completely numb after that mind-blowing orgasm.

Later that night, when he closed his eyes, he just hoped you’d keep your word and call him again tomorrow.

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback. - 🐹

Permanent taglist 🔖 @hee-pster @hoyeonheeseung @furious-eagle @heehoonsnemo

Just a call away taglist 🔖 @heeseungshim @rayofsunshineeee @fakeuwus

[lilacskyly]

My Life For Yours (Satoru Gojo x Reader Soulmate AU)

This is just the first part, planning on doing a part 2 and maybe 3.

Satoru Gojo didn't believe you two were fated to be soulmates. Hell, he refused to believe it. How could he not? You were one of his fellow students in Jujutsu High, introduced to him by your friend Suguru Geto. You were considered a special grade sorcerer, but how was that when you were so weak? You couldn't fight, you could only support others, taking the blows for them with your cursed technique. With each blow thrown an ally's way, you used your technique to save them. The blow would always get blasted back to the enemy, but why would you harm yourself for that? Why go out of your way to protect someone you barely knew? He just couldn't wrap his head around it.

Maybe that's why he still can't wrap his head around what you did.

You found out he was going to fight Toji. You insisted you come along, he of course refused. You were too weak to help anyways. But you were a persistent one. You somehow convinced him to let you tag along as long as you didn't “get in the way”.

He wishes he didn't say that nor that he let you come along.

You hid while he and Toji were fighting, you didn't even let him know where you were. Maybe you were just waiting for that moment, the moment that was meant to kill him. 

Toji would've killed him if not for you using your technique on him in a split second. The blow that was meant for him engulfed you, he swears you died on the spot then. But as you fell down, never to get up again, you smiled at him. Your voice rang through his head then. “Now, win this.” You died that day, Gods he wishes he didn't let you go. But with your death, his cursed energy soared. He easily defeated Toji after that, but he didn't feel satisfied. He kept sending blow after blow to Toji’s corpse till it was reduced to nothing. He went down to recover your body, seeing you still had that stupid smile spread across your face, with tear stains on your cheeks. 

He was the one who brought you back to announce your death to Jujutsu High. “So… she finally did it…” Yaga told him. “She finally gave her life to someone else.”

He didn't understand what he meant. It was only later that he found that's why you were considered a special grade. You quite literally gave your power to him, making him stronger than before, giving him your life force. You were now a part of him. 

He swears he sees you wherever he goes. You with that stupid fucking smile. He remembers screaming at your image, screaming that it was your fault he feels like this. And what did you do? You just smiled the whole time, albeit a bit sadder now. 

He would visit your grave constantly, a grave that simply had your name plastered on it with the word “Oyasumi”. He hated that. He hated how you were reduced to just a piece of stone. 

The last time he saw you was when he destroyed it. He couldn't control himself, his anger, his hate, his despair. He destroyed the only thing that was keeping you in this world. When the dust cleared, he saw you standing there, waving goodbye to him before walking away in the midst of the new morning.

“She's not coming back…” he heard someone say from behind him. He almost attacked that person too. They stopped him however, introducing themselves as ‘the prophet’. They gave you a choice. Kill them there and never be able to see you again, or attempt to change the past. Change the past? He remembers thinking. How stupid is this person? After hesitating to attack, the person came forward to him, offering him a bundle of forget-me-nots to him. He thought it was a sick joke. He was the only one to bring those flowers to your now decimated grave. He threw the flowers down, demanding the person explain why they were here.

“Simple, I just can't stand to see someone lose their soulmate.”

His…. Soulmate?

“She was yours, you know. And yet… you treated her like a mere pest. Yet she still gave her life to support you, to make you stronger than ever. Why?”

He was going to kill this person if they continued like that. 

“I can give you a chance to re-do it all. To find her again, to make things right. After all, you love her, no?”

And so, here he was. Watching you from afar as you hung out with Suguru before you two were even supposed to meet. Now was his chance to make up for what he did. Now was the chance to give his life to you.

[wandixx]

Ghost of fries and hero of cookies part 6

All work words count: 14 643

Words in this part: 2 686

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay

Or

Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Batman wants an explanation. His kids however, wouldn't be themselves if they did add some chaos

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part, Previous part

“Signal.”

Duke bit back a sigh as his last hope to leave Cave undiscovered disappeared. He shot Steph message of:

Having The Talk. Come as moral support

and turned around to face Bruce.

“Yes?”

B grunted in disapproving and ‘Signal report’ way but Duke decided to buy some time and answer only questions that were actually asked. He slowly sat at the briefing table and looked at the man expectantly.

Lift chimed and moments later Tim and Cass went to Batcomputer and training mats respectively. Duke was, like, 80% sure they were there to eavesdrop. He knew them well enough. He knew them well enough.

“The girl”

“Izzy?” Was Duke annoying on purpose? Yes. He really didn’t want to have this talk. Like, at all. Psychological warfare it was “I mean, I know she is civilian and you don’t approve but at least she isn’t doing anything illegal, right? Like, you know, robbing museums or killing people?”

Bruce looked repulsed and Tim snorted.

“Low blow Narrows, low blow” Jason announced through speakers. He was slightly winded as if he just finished a fight “Good job kid”

“So you’re listening too, great” Duke muttered under his breath before louder he added “Is everyone who wants in on a show, here already?”

“Give me a sec- here Dick you’re going live now”

“Thanks Babs, you’re the best”

“I know. Donuts, you know which one”

“Of course. Glad we’re finally going to talk about Duke’s kid”

“Shut up, she is not my kid!”

“Steph ETA 2 minutes” Cass interrupted.

At least Damian didn’t show up- as if summoned by this thought Damian stomped down the stares, Alfred the Cat curled in his arms. Maybe others had a point, calling him Demon kid and stuff.

“What is an emergency?” he demanded and Duke decided to take what little relief he could from the fact that Bruce seemed equally defeated by sheer number of people around for this talk. 

“It seems like… oh, literally everyone lost an adoption bet” Babs explained. Huh, so Steph didn’t change her stance.

Damian looked genuinely terrified as he muttered “No” eyes darting between everyone present in silent calculation.

“Oh, shut up” Duke whined knowing all too well his stalling had to come to the end. Maybe it was wishful thinking but he almost heard roar of engine of Steph’s motorcycle. Her presence would be double edged sword but she would help him advocate for Dani and that was more important.

“Thomas, what have you done?!” if it was anyone other than Damian, Duke would call sound he made a whine. As it was, he preferred his entrails to stay inside and since the boy showed up, called by thought, the older boy preferred not to take risks.

“Nothing, Babs is overreacting”

“Don’t deny it. She went about it kinda Tim Lite style but it worked”

“I don’t even know her surname, where she stays or really, anything about her life outside of our patrols, how do you expect me to go about adoption?!”

“B knew even less about me when he decided, yes this tire thief is my new son!” Jason chimed in and Duke knew he was grinning despite voice modulator.

“What from my origin story was lost to make Lite version?”

“Identities weren't breached as far as we're aware. Just ‘came one day and refuses to leave’ part and some light stalking. She was smart about it, invisible, keeping out of sight and to the hot spots. Wouldn't find her if I didn't know she was there”

“She could still just not tell, I mean I knew for years before telling anyone…”

“There is no way. Believe me, she has no brain-mouth filter, I swear”

“But-”

“She introduced herself by her first name,” Duke deadpanned ”She told me civilian names of heroes from her hometown, in context that didn't require me to do any actual research to clue me. I did anyway. I don't think she even realized she did it. If she knew our identities we would know already”

There was a moment of silence as everyone digested the thought of just how gigantic breach Dani accidentally caused.

“Well, it's as good of a proof as we can get for now,” Babs bristled. 

“Who let her in on such secrets then?!” Damian sounded genuinely appalled and Duke wasn't too surprised.

Like on a cue, Steph stormed inside on her Spoiler in civies. Bruce looked about ready to get aneurysm. Duke was a bit glad that everyone was doing such good job in distraction department.

“IT’S OKAY, WHY? BECAUSE I AM HERE!” Steph yelled, jumping from before her vehicle fully stopped. She threw something small in general direction of Batcomputer “Timmy plug it in, I made a PowerPoint!”

Duke felt blood leave his face. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what Steph put together but he probably didn't. Tim opened it anyways.

WHY HOOPOE IS ADORABLE&CHAOTIC BEAN AND SHOULD BE PART OF THE TEAM

The title slide said, one of the clearest photos of Dani from before she started wearing mask in the background. It was close-up of girl smiling, bits of brownie on her cheeks.

“Was this photo taken with a goddamn calculator?” Tim asked with disgust so clear Duke could taste it. Metaphorically of course.

“Nah, just body-cam. Her powers mess with technology a bit”

Tim still looked displeased at the craftsmanship.

“Don't worry, it's not  a bad photo. Baby Bird is just being perfectionist,” Dick placated.

Duke didn't realize that Damian froze until he unfroze and made his way to the screen, stopping less than one foot away from it. His movements were rigid, his face scrunched with distress. Alfred the Cat escaped its master probably due to hoe tense he was. Everyone in Cave quietened as soon as boy took first step and expecting mood had to run through microphones because nobody from the on-line crowd quipped in.

“This is the green of Lazarus” he whispered finally, sounding actually scared. Jason swore. Bruce and Cass visibly stiffened. Tim choked and he wasn't even drinking. Dick did his whinny breezy name saying thing when he wanted explanation and felt lightly betrayed. 

It was Duke's turn to freeze because… it wasn't. Of course he wasn't all that well versed in the Pit, less alone its color but he did bust quite a few trafficking rings with Jason and he saw his eyes afterwards all raging, toxic, neon green glory and it wasn't the same as Dani’s. As much as he liked English and how good he was at it, it failed him at simple task of describing the obvious difference between each other. He'd have more luck describing tastes with set of color samples from IKEA or something. And really, even if he tried he would lose the fight of competence with Damian. Who wouldn't.  But-

“There is no way she has any connection with LOA”

“Why is that?” Damian seemed to misinterpret it as challenge like he always did when emotions were running high. Duke took a deep breath. Well, it was a moment to use all of his diplomatic skills and speak in the language of the demons.

“I've seen her fight. She would be utter disgrace”

“It does not prove-”

“It does” Duke interrupted with the tone and mimic of person who saw too much because he did ”None of you have any say until you watch a tiny and I mean tiny ten year old tackle five Joker goons like it's a joke, by sheer virtue of super strength and intangibility-means-I-can-ignore-bullets-Signal-don’t-be-such-worrywart. She should get shot, like, three times at least. And she kept laughing!” he was low key wheezing at the end because even after all this time (a week) it was fucking horrifying. Bruce made a huff that meant he was laughing and put a hand on his shoulder as a sign of support. Dick's lighthearted laugh sang from the speakers.

“Don't worry Duke, it never gets better” B said with mirth.

He refused to elaborate whether he meant ‘kids keep jumping into danger like there is no tomorrow‘ or ‘it's equally terrifying every time’ and Duke decided to reflect on that sentiment later. It put some things into perspective. A lot of things if he was being honest.

Also, he was not ready for stuff like that to become even semi-normal occurrence. He was ready to give her all of his Alfred cookies if it could change anything. He knew it wouldn't. 

“Do you have any other evidence that your new acquaintance does not just fake being less experienced to make you lower your guard?” Damian asked warily.

“I had to teach her out of putting her thumb in her fist,” he deadpanned. Several people hissed in empathetic pain. Steph coughed to bring attention to where she stood in front of Batcomputer, other slide of her Power Point open. Duke recognised video from his body-cam.

“Exhibit A” she announced. She played a video with Dani’s first mugging attempt he witnessed. Let it be said, it was a disaster.

“Exhibit B '' One of Dani’s most epic fails at side-kick that ended with her falling face first to the ground.

“Exhibit C” Dani fumbled with zip-ties, looking at him utterly at loss.

“Exhibit D” the talk about her prior training.

“What’s was that sound?” Dick obviously on the verge of cooing when girl on video growled. Steph stopped video.

“Very angry kitten” Tim stated with soft smile.

“Honestly, furious girl” Cass corrected “She was really mad at you”

“Yeah, I know but promise of Alfred’s cookies was enough to placate her”

“You gave her Alfred’s cookies?!”

“She started by giving me a lot of food on a really shitty patrol, had to repay somehow”

“Was it from your share or-” Dick asked like it was most important thing in the world.

“Miss Hoopoe was added to my plans after she picked her new name” Alfred explained and shit, Duke really should get used to how man just appeared sometimes. Jumpscare the original.

“Alfred, you knew?” Bruce sounded so utterly betrayed.

“I have yet to meet her but I was informed about her presence about two weeks ago”

“He caught me printing mask for her”

“About that” Steph clapped and skipped her slide show “Look at thi clueless child with such horrible disguises and codename ideas” There was whole list of every name Dani wanted to try out and photo of her bare face.  Duke kinda repressed his memories of it. It was worse than he remembered.

“Did she really tried kenting that?”

“Got it after her cousin. He used his first name as part of his alias for almost half a year” Duke admitted in carefree tone, knowing it would cause a mess.

“Cousin?!” several people yelled in surprise.

“Caped cousin?!”

“Yup. Small time hero from Illinois. As far as I’m aware she’s alone in Gotham but they’re in regular contact and she has strong believe that he can and will help her if she used her panic button”

“Who in their right mind let’s kid alone in Gotham?!” Jason sounded about ready to strangle Phantom.

“He seems to be fifteen himself. And has anti-meta parents if I’m picking things up correctly. She didn’t mention them much. I highly doubt she has present parents at all, so…”

“What the hell Narrows.”

“I don’t know, it’s just a wild guess”

“Does it call for the rescue?” Steph asked eagerly.

“We’re not going to Illinois to rescue Phantom if he doesn’t ask for it. He has means to it” Bruce interrupted with bone deep sigh.

“How do you know I meant Phantom?” Duke perked up because he never mentioned this name.

“He is from Illinois, looks almost the same as far as I can tell from the photos and they share a lot of powers”

“I didn’t know you knew about random kid hero from other state?”

“He dropped by on few Justice League’s mission. There is still dispute whether we should approach him in his city or not. He was very clear on his opinion that we should stay away. I think we really shouldn’t”

“How you haven’t gone or sent anyone there yet?” Tim teased.

Bruce just stared at him then gestured at mountain of cases they were currently working on. Yes, they were printed. Apparently for man it made it easier to work on them like that.

“Can we focus back on untrained child you let join you on patrol, Duke?”

“You act like I could stop her from doing her own thing if I didn’t  let her. Plus, even though she doesn’t have combat training, she can handle herself well enough. And has this damn intangibility that makes her really hard to punch”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t tell anyone other than Alfred and Steph and I wanted to wait a bit before leaving her to the wolfs”

“The bet”

“Shut up Steph”

“When did you plan on letting us know?” Bruce ignored what blonde insinuated. Duke was utterly grateful for that, he knew he would get lecture for that later but he was more than happy to leave it be for now.

“Somewhen next week. I hoped to introduce her gradually but apparently everyone knew already?”

“Kids tell me things. Hoopoe made a good impression on them” Jason explained.

“Hero sightings on Twitter” Dick admitted without a shadow of shame.

“What he said” Tim agreed “This person from crochet dolls made one for your kid too, so in public eyes she’s our already”

“For the last time, she isn’t my kid!” Duke groaned but as always went ignored.

“Nobody expected old man’s tendencies to rub on you so fast, Narrows”

“Shut up and this is half a reason I didn’t let you meet her. All of you”

“With all due respect Duke” Babs started teasingly “You gave us ammo yourself. You improved her diet, you brought her to The Food Track Of Mental Breakdowns, you teach her stuff, you check in on her almost as often as her cousin and their friends do…”

“How did you hack her pho- No, wrong question, why?!”

“We’re all paranoid bastards, I needed to check out the newest bird. She legally doesn’t exist btw so I suspect some shady stuff with her birth but otherwise nothing sus about her. Comms and trackers for her are waiting in drawer C19. You will give it to her tomorrow”

“Aye, aye captain Oracle ma’am” he joked.

“Wait, you showed her The Food Track?”

“She deserved it” he gritted out.

Before this could turn into a fight or something, Alfred demanded:

“Since we are all on the same page now, I would like to extend an invitation for family dinner to miss Hoopoe”

“We’ll eat it down here in full costumes”

“As you wish master Bruce. Master Duke make sure to let her know��

“Of course Alfred”

And he planned to do that but Dani didn’t show up. He hadn’t thought much of it because she was unpredictable like that. She tended to disappear from the face of the Earth for a day or two and return with tales of her “autograph hunting trips”

But then she didn’t show up on the next patrol too. It was unprecedented. And she hadn’t responded to the check in. Three times in the row. He was getting kinda sick from the stress.

He knew Dani well enough, she wouldn’t ghost him like that and in Gotham disappearing meant three things: getting kidnapped, trafficked or six feet under. To their knowledge, Dani didn’t have anyone who would pay ransom for her other than Signal and no demands were made so the first option was out.

Bats launched full fledged search.

Duke himself found and busted two trafficking rings in three weeks which was around how much he did in two months on a daily basis.

Thanks to Oracle, they found Dani’s utterly crashed phone in the dead end in the Narrows. It didn’t look any better.

Duke really hoped they wouldn’t be too late.

With each day it seemed more likely.

********

Bruce: *wants to have private conversation with his son about unknown child he's been working with*

All of the Batfam: Hello there

Duke: I managed to keep Dani secret my family of detectives!

Everyone other than Bruce: I knew for past two weeks, but goood job kid

Random o Twitter: I'm sooo disappointed with Signal for letting Hoopoe fight crime. She is just a little child, she shouldn't have to witness Gotham's worst

Other Random: Have you heard about Robin????? Have you seen teories that Signal is teenager???? With proofs????? Are you mad at child for not taking proper care of the other child????? That's messed up my dude/gal

Yell at Batman

Signal: You act like she isn't personification of feral cat I try to coax home so I can prevent her from getting in trouble. I dare you to try and stop her

Phantom: I do too, 100$ if you manage. It would save me from so much stress

Random: Now, who the f*ck are you?!

(Guess who never touched Twitter with 20 meters stick in her life)

Next part

Tag list: @pickleking8 @mynameisnotlaura

[impactrueno]

I wonder what Toon!beetlejuice thought of Movie2!beetlejuice who has literally blackmailed Lydia into marriying him for have his help to save her daugther's life.

movie2!B: "come on, it was still her choice"

Toon!B "HER DAUGTHER WAS IN DANGER. HOW IT IS A CHOICE?"

And Movie1!beetlejuice is like "yeah bro that was a low blow"

i. well. hmm

ok one thing out of the way....movie 1 and 2 beetlejuice are the same guy, one is just from 36 years ago. but same guy, same experiences, same person.

second, beetlejuice does not blackmail lydia into marrying him in the sequel (blackmail is demanding a benefit in return for not revealing certain information about that person.) she looks for him, asks for his help, he reminds her that he doesn't do things for free, she obviously already knows this and she herself offers to marry him before he even says anything. it's a deal. his thing is making deals and offering his powerful and effective ways of dealing with anything in return. it's business.

in the first one the same thing happens, except he brings up what he wants out of it, but lydia still had no choice but to ask him for help to save the maitlands and he knew it. considering she was only 15 and he was very knowingly and very smugly taking advantage of her noble intentions, he did way worse in the first one and has no right to criticize anything his future self does in the sequel lol

and finally i don't think cartoon bj would have the moral fiber to even confront him for that sort of thing, not like that anyway. he'd maybe make some sarcastic remark and fume with his arms crossed, mentally reminding himself to not let that guy anywhere near his own lydia. he's also self-aware enough to know that he himself is pretty horrible, so he doesn't have much room to speak out on this; he's just angry that lydia (any lydia) was a target of that horribleness. he would feel the same about musical bj.

sorry this is kind of a rude way to answer to this ask GHHHH it's nothing personal, anon (i don't even know who you are!) i just had some thoughts and i needed to share them

[its-time-to-write]

your mind is not your friend

HUGE shoutout to @whimsical-roasting for being an absolute babe and helping me out of my writing slump. Been feeling like I’m just churning out the same story over and over, but she gave me a prompt that absolutely knocked it out of the park! This actually contains chunks of text from our conversation, she was so helpful. Literally could not have written it without her, so be sure to check out her page and see what she’s got going on.

your mind is not your friend

It’s 2:30am on the dot, and you’re in your car, staring at the steering wheel. How did I get here? you ask yourself, rhetorically. You know exactly how you got to be in this driveway at this god-awful time in the morning.

You had been awake two hours ago, and sent a u up? text to a somewhat-friend you met at a bar a couple weeks ago. He was attracted to you, you needed to blow off steam, and thus your relationship began. “Relationship,” being used in the most technical sense of the term.

Pretty much all you did was hit each other up for sex, but that was kind of the whole point. You had no feelings for him, he didn’t have any for you, so you were in a mutually beneficial friends-with-benefits type situation. No strings attached.

The sex wasn’t bad, it was actually pretty good, especially if it was dark enough and you were feeling delusional enough to convince yourself he was someone else. On occasion you’d have to bite back a moan with the wrong name on your lips, but you’re pretty sure this guy wouldn’t have noticed.

But here you are, at 2:30 in the fucking morning, feeling strangely empty.

As you pull out of his driveway, you promise yourself this is your last hookup with this dude.

You can’t bring yourself to have another night like tonight.

It’s weird. You feel weird. You’re too aware of your arms and legs, and the night lighting isn’t helping anything. There’s barely anyone on the road, and you can’t bring yourself to turn on any music. 

You’re just tired because god, the sex was good, sure, but it was emotionless. He didn’t match your energy nor your affection, and it felt physically draining.

You’re not even sure where you’re driving but you’re sure as hell not going home right now. You pull your car to the side of the road under a streetlight and just sit.

After a few minutes, you pull out your phone and toy with it for a second, then think fuck it and call Jamie. You’re pretty sure it’s too early for him to be awake for training, but you never know until you try, right?

Right. 

He picks up on the first ring. “Yeah, love?” he says by way of greeting, voice thick with sleep. 

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” you ask. “I wasn’t sure what time you woke up and I’m having a shit night, so I thought I’d just check to see if you were up. You can go back to sleep.”

“Not asleep,” Jamie yawns. “Been up for a bit. You alright?”

You pause. There’s something about Jamie’s voice that’s bringing tears to your eyes. 

“Darling?” he asks softly, “You still there?”

You nod, then remember he can’t see you. “Yeah, I’m still here.” You can’t erase the tears from your voice. 

You can hear Jamie turn a light on somewhere in his house. The mental image of him padding around that big empty house calms you somewhat. 

“It’s just-” you start then stop. 

“Hm?” Jamie hums, encouraging you on. 

“I don’t wanna get into it, but he didn’t even make me feel desirable. The entire night he was like ‘Yeah, sure, whatever. Fine, let's get it over with,’ and I felt like a pity fuck even if we didn't go all the way. And I’m just- just tired,” you finish lamely. 

All you get back is silence. 

“Jamie?” you say, half-pleadingly, desperation tingeing your voice. “Are you still there?”

“I’m here. Come to mine, yeah? I’ll unlock the door, so just walk in.” His voice sounds thick again, almost like he’s crying, but you chalk it up to the early hour and start your car again. 

—

You’re at Jamie’s house in no time at all, walking up the steps through the doorway and into his arms. You can’t even cry at this point, because it just feels like too much work.

“D’you want a shower?” Jamie asks, chin on top of your head. “I already pulled out some clothes for you, and I can throw these in the laundry. They’ll be a little big, but,” he shrugs, arms still around you. 

You tilt your head up and nod, no energy for words. He says “Alright then. You know where you’re going,” so you make your way up the stairs.

“Gonna make some food,” he calls after you, “You know I fuckin’ hate eating alone, so you have to eat some too.”

—

After a long, long hot shower, you’re in Jamie’s clothes and headed back downstairs. Your skin feels raw from where you scrubbed it, but you’re starting to feel more like yourself. As you walk into the kitchen, Jamie looks up from where he’s making grilled cheese on the stove.

He asks, “How you feeling, love?”

Love. Darling. God, his pet names are going to kill you. You’re not sure why you thought this was a good idea.

You’ve been in love with Jamie Tartt for, like, ever. He was just so funny and so sweet and so goddamned sexy. 

You are positive you have no chance with him, given his dating history. He’s not really one for commitment. You figure if he were interested, he would have made a move by now, but he’s comfortable where you are, just being friends.

You’ve been doing your best to erase all feelings from your body, hence: casual sex. 

It was working out great for you in all respects, obviously.

But, to answer Jamie’s question, you just shrug. He seems to pick up on the I can’t speak vibe, so he tilts his head at you, lower lip sticking out in sympathy.

“Right,” he says, flipping a grilled cheese sandwich on a plate, “take this and go sit over there.” He points to the couch. “You want anythin’ to drink?”

You shrug again, so Jamie goes to the fridge and pulls out two bottles of water. He grabs his own plate and you follow him to the couch.

He sits down first and pats the space right next to him, so you sink into the cushion. He adjusts so you’re curled into his right side, arm slung around you.

You eat in silence, and you can feel yourself slowly floating back into your body. It’s funny, really, because you hadn’t realized you were detached. 

The sandwiches are long gone, and you’re feeling more like talking, all wrapped up in Jamie’s too-large hoodie and sweatpants. Your face is the only thing that’s been visible this whole time, hood pulled up. Jamie’s hand has been running a comforting pattern up and down your arm, and it hits you that sitting on the couch with Jamie feels more affectionate than literally kissing a man who was like a damp board of plywood essential.

“I’m sorry.”

Jamie looks at you in surprise. “How d’you mean, love?”

You return his gaze, teary-eyed. “You have training and shit soon, and you’re supposed to be getting rest. I know you lied about me not waking you up. And I shouldn’t’ve bothered you. It’s my problem and my fault that I even feel like this.” You stare at the empty plates on the coffee table in front of you. “God, I don’t know… maybe I’m too affectionate. Like, I was kissing all over his face and he barely even did anything back. I know it’s just sex and not a relationship. I don’t even want him that way. But it just feels like it fucking sucked my soul out of me.”

You feel Jamie shift slightly, and you catch the tail end of what you think is- a wince?

It just makes you feel worse. “I felt undesirable and I KNOW I didn't look it tonight. I looked desirable as fuck. But he kept on being like 'yeah, sure, whatever spread your legs.’ And I want to be wanted, you know.. like, crave me like it's a not a chore.” Your shoulders slump as Jamie sucks in a breath. His hand, which has maintained a steady pace on your arm, is erratic now. You misinterpret the wince and the breath and keep going.

“Look, I know that you… you know, you’ve had sex with a lot more people that I have. I’ve been with like, three, including this guy. I know that I messed up, it’s just- I don’t want to feel cheap, you know?”

You can’t look at Jamie. You’re not sure that you can bear him explaining how you’ve breached some innocuous rule of casual sex. You can feel his eyes burning a hole through the hoodie. You didn’t realize you were using it as protection until you felt like you lost it.

You force yourself not to cry, and determine to pokerface your way through whatever Jamie has to tell you. He slides off the couch until he’s on the floor in front of you reaching for your hands.

“That fucking bag of dicks don’t deserve you,” he says, with such feeling that you’re sure you misheard him. You just keep staring past him at that empty plate.

“Oi, did you hear me?” Jamie says bringing up one hand to gently pinch your chin. “He don’t. Any man that makes you feel this shitty about yourself, especially after spendin’ the night with you, is a fucking piece of shit.” He squeezes your hand. “That arsehole has no fucking idea what he let slip away.”

His words are so far from what you expected that you’re having trouble registering them.

You let out a hoarse, “What are you saying,” and Jamie chuckles ruefully.

“I’m saying- shit. This is a shit time to be telling ya, but fuck it.” He takes a breath. “I really fucking like you. I think you’re fucking great. I’ve hated hearing you talk about that arsehole since the first time you fucking went home with him. Told meself that it should’ve been me you were goin’ home with, not that prick. I love when you’re affectionate. You know, when you fucking… hug me too hard ‘cause you’re excited bout somethin’ or kiss me forehead before leaving. But I didn’t want to fuck up what we already have going, so I didn’t fucking say anything. I should’ve said something a million fucking times, but I’m saying it now. It ain’t your fault. It’s that prick’s fault for making you feel fucking disgusting about the best part of you.”

You’re not starting at the plate anymore. You’re staring at Jamie’s face, and his pleading eyes, and you feel your soul reconnect to your body. You slide off the couch and into his arms, both of you on the floor between the sofa and the coffee table. He holds you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to earth when, in reality, you think it just might be the other way around. 

Jamie wraps one arm extra tight around your waist and heaves you two off the floor. 

“C’mon,” he says, voice muffled from his face buried in your neck, “we’re going the fuck to sleep.”

“You have training,” you remind him into his hair. 

“Nah,” he says, beginning to walk you to the stairs. “Told Coach I was sick right after you hung up.”

“Oh,” you say in a small voice. You can feel him smiling against your skin. 

“Right,” Jamie says. “I’m done fucking talking. Let’s get some proper sleep, yeah?” 

You nod, and he takes you all the way upstairs into his room. It’s the second time within four hours that your in another man’s bed, but this time feels different. This time is checking all the boxes you were looking for, and this time, you have the one you want.  

[icarusbetide]

the hamburr moment in nonstop and why it's the turning point for their relationship

i read a great post about musical hamburr by @just-mebs and how burr's actions after the war can be interpreted as a desperate longing to regain hamilton's respect, attention, admiration after hamilton has already moved on. i wanted to point out that musical burr did get a second chance to regain that affection, and he didn't take it.

during non-stop, hamilton knocks on burr's door in the middle of the night -a private, vulnerable setting- and tells him, straight-up, that he's the better lawyer; that he wants burr on his side, writing the federalist papers with him. when burr rejects it, hamilton tries to persuade him one more time: "do you support this constitution? then defend it". but burr? he says he's going to wait to see which way the wind will blow, and that's that. hamilton moves on from burr and this moment is the final blow that did it.

it's so ironic that in the middle of the song where musical burr is literally narrating all the times that hamilton is beginning to surpass him, there's an interlude where hamilton offers a hand for burr to join him (as true partners who complement each other if we put our hamburr goggles on), and he doesn't get it.

also, the laurens interlude comes on right before non-stop. once again putting our hamburr glasses on: john laurens is the passionate, go-getter that hamilton ditched burr for during my shot - we can assume that if laurens had lived, hamilton would've just written the federalist papers with him. but no. laurens dies, so hamilton turns to his old friend/crush/mentor/rival for help and partnership, who doesn't see the opportunity for what it is.

aaron burr's biggest obstacle, john laurens, drops dead, and he still fumbles the ball.

this moment in non-stop is a crucial one that's often overlooked, probably because it's quick, and burr never mentions it again because it's insignificant: to him, it's just another time when he was being cautious. but for hamilton, it's the moment when he decided that this guy isn't going to change. the war is over, their physical lives aren't at risk, but burr is still incapable of taking a stand when it matters. it adds more context as to why hamilton's angry and uncooperative when burr runs against his father in law and later runs for president. he's convinced that burr doesn't stand for anything except himself. (and in the musical, honestly for good reason. his big i want song is about being "in the room where it happens". he never says for what. he never explains what he wants to do in the room, not like jefferson or madison who want to "stand up for the south".)

so by the time act 2 rolls around, hamilton has already dismissed burr. he pushes him aside saying "decisions are happening over dinner." burr is resentful? jealous? missing hamilton's admiration and respect? and he thinks that he can regain it by simply being open and forceful - going "i learned that from you" while campaigning for president. he's still missing the bigger picture. it's not about being aggressive and forceful. it's about having a conviction to be forceful about.

this blindness on musical burr's part also impacts how audiences relate to him because i hear so many times that "omg burr just wanted to be in the room where it happens, and hamilton kept it from him :(". burr's the one who rejected that shot - and he didn't need it, because he does technically end up where he wanted! he's there during the cabinet battles, he's dancing and prancing with the jefferson-madison duo, but they aren't a true trio. he's not in the room because he doesn't add anything to it. that inability has nothing to do with hamilton's sabotage, and everything to do with why he's not admired or seen as a true confidant like in the old days.

mandatory disclaimer: this is fully about musical hamilton, a lot of this is entirely fiction and separate from the historical figures!

[mctwinkdom]

why do you think daniel and lando as a ship didn't take off the way landoscar did? I am obsessed with landoscar but just recently got into it so don't know too much about the Daniel era... Ive seen clips of Carlando and I get why they were shipped so much (even though I deff prefer Oscar lolol) but curious your thoughts...

I'm also a recent fan! I wasn't around during the McLaren Daniel era, so my analysis really isn't that great, but I also noticed how much more popular Carlando and Landoscar are compared to Dando, so here's my two cents on it (don't take it too seriously please):

My first idea is the age gap? I think some people aren't comfortable shipping two men with a 10 years age gap, whereas Carlando and Landoscar have a much more comfortable 5 and 2 years gap. Second idea is that Daniel was supposed to be the number 1 McLaren driver and, being a race winner, to show Lando how it's done; but the opposite happened and Lando was the better McLaren driver at that time, which made the dynamic a bit weird. Third reason is, from what I've heard (I didn't necessarily see it from myself) Daniel and Lando actually were a bit awkward around each other at first and took some time to find common ground and humor.

Overall, I think Dando is a good ship but they don't have a "cliche" trope, which helps a lot of ships to get popular: Carlando was a big brother taking his little brother under his wing and teaching him what he knew about racing and life in general; Landoscar are giving college sweethearts being a bit shy and playful and cute around each other. Daniel and Lando are obviously good friends but Daniel was not the mentor he was supposed to be and that Carlos was, and he wasn't the playful cute agemate Oscar is either. They were just... well, dudes.

As for why Landoscar took off this way, I think that fanstage moment at Silverstone 2023 changed everything, that's when the fics started blowing up. It's obvious Oscar is not a touchy person and Lando is very respectful of people's boundaries, so when Oscar wrapped his arm around Lando's middle and pulled him closer with that kind of "c'mon why not" face, you can see how suprised and happy Lando is, he's literally BEAMING. So yeah. Landoscar hits like crack and they became popular so quickly because it's a dynamic we're not used to see in F1 and in Lando's previous ships: it's sweet, and quiet, and soft, they have so many little moments showing how fond they are of each other, they're two teammates genuinely having each other's back (last Austrian GP really proved that) and pulling the team UP.

That concludes my analysis!! I never paid too much attention to Dando to be honest, they're really not my cup of tea (mostly because I don't fuck with Daniel like that), but that was fun to think about.

Landoscar stays on top ✌️

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Its been a while since I read the eng translation on Masquerade JP, but didn’t Malleus confess about being afraid of rollo? I would find it hilarious if he did. Especially since I feel like it would be a jab at Leona’s pride, he thot he was his arch nemesis💀 the one to bring fear into the powerful dragon, the one who can stand toe to toe with, the one that malleus can look him in the eye and say he’s a worthy opponent…Nope, it’s Rollo.

the twink that eats a few grapes and a croissant was able to scare Malleus Draconia himself, one of the top 5 mages in the world. And he did it less than a few days 🙃

You’re remembering correctly! In 5-5 (and then again in 5-18) of Glorious Masquerade, Malleus himself states that Rollo has actually made him feel fear. (Malleus also says in 3-7 that he may fear the flowers.) I think it was only 1-2 days max for the event though?

The first angry cat got trumped and outdone by a second, far angrier cat 💀 Leona thought he could bring Malleus to his knees with an easily avoidable (with magic) stampede… He thought on a scale that was too small 🙄 Obviously, you should threaten not only Malleus’s safety but also that of his people, his beloved gargoyles, and Twisted Wonderland as we known it. That’s what’s going to nab you that coveted “Malleus’s Archnemesis” status/j

It’s even stupider when you realize that, of the two, Rollo acts much more goofy (even if his intentions aren’t goofy). Like… not only are Rollo’s monologues and brooding about how he’ll finally triumph over Malleus and all mages far longer than Leona fixating on Malleus, but bro literally pulled a lever that acrivates TRAP DOORS for the NRC students to fall through 🤡 THAT SHIT AIN’T NORMAL… SEEK HELP AT ONCE, FLAMME

I think there’s something to be said about just how tenacious Rollo is as well. That is the trait of his which ultimately earns him Malleus’s fear: because, despite being a mere human and all the blows he has been dealt up until that point (including a particularly devastating blast of double the damage he inflicted onto the SSR trio), Rollo still manages to stand back up. (Reminder that he’s been excessively spellcasting up until this point, trying to roast the NRC boys into a fine crisp.) Not only that, but he unleashes his UM right after and keeps trying to take them on, 3 vs 1. Most impressive of all????? Even though Rollo is using up so much magic, even though he’s feeling so many overwhelming and negative emotions, he NEVER Overblots. That is some extreme mental fortitude right there 😭 I have to applaud it…

And then you think about how neurotic Rollo is (the 2 croissants, 16 grapes, 1 cafe au lait lunch everyday SENDS me every time) and how easily set off he is by little inconveniences (like a goat eating his stationary) and it becomes even funnier because of how “lame” Rollo is in his daily life 😩 The power of sheer spite powered him through it all, and Malleus has no choice but to respect and to fear him for it/j

[taxominn]

Spoilers up to chap 303 of tsctir

When you're on your Enneagram bs & realize that Sung Hyunjae is self-pres/sexual 7 & Han Yoojin is self-pres/sexual 2.

...the fact that they both prioritize self-pres instinct while wielding the sexual instinct second would explain some of the odd chemistry in their semi-transactional relationship. They both are, or at least were, using their growing connection with the other as a tool to satisfy their own needs, and both of them see this as reasonable and fair because they know the other is doing the same thing.

Hyunjae only rejects the chemistry between them when his dominant instinct is threatened... needing to risk his arm to help everyone get out of the Japanese dungeon bcuz of whatever funky stuff Yoojin's got going on. He literally says to Song Taewon, after running away from Yoojin, in ch.296:

“No matter how much I like him, I come first. He’s mine to the end, and while he’s something I treasure, the one I value is myself.”

No wonder dude spirals out of control until he's literally contemplating wiping Yoojin off the face of the planet. he's a pleasure-seeking sp7 that ensures the satisfaction of his needs by building interpersonal alliances, & the passionate, dreamy energy of his sx7 instinct serves that end. if the focus of his current passion is abt to risk his survival, if he's gonna have to start making actual sacrifices, then it makes sense that he'd think abt cutting his losses. but... he doesn't want to kill him. cuz he liiiikes him. so he just ghosts him lol

& Yoojin's reaction to it is so freaking funny dude. he's like a crazy ex Hyunjae broke up with over text. & that makes sense, too, bcuz he's beginning to actually care about Sung Hyunjae in a non-transactional way, so Hyunjae just up and ghosting has to absolutely trigger the 2's fear of being unloved and abandoned, like it did when he thought Yoohyun abandoned him pre-regression. and because 2's are hiding insecurity and entitlement for love & attention behind a veneer of altruism, which wells into anger & resentment if they don't get the love that they're due, Yoojin literally threatens to blow up his house if he doesn't respond to him. and does, like, a 24 hour death countdown before barging into Sung Hyunjae's house when he STILL hadn't responded to his texts lololol

[sangoqueenkoko]

KAVEH

"how do you become accidentally married?" …part 2.

fluff

DENDRO MASTERLIST | DRABBLE MASTERLIST

Drabble prompt: page 1: #8 = "how do you become accidentally married?"

Warnings? Mentions of alcohol in general and of what could be blood (but it's actually red wine). Pet names mentioned (Honey, my Love).

Contains a mention of Alhaitham, slight mention of Nahida, and Kaveh of course!

1k words.

Here’s a part 2 no one asked for! @groovyparadisestarlight and @udretlnea sort of did

i wonder if this one will blow up like the first part…

‘Because he cannot remember what happened the night before.’

These are the events that lead up to the day after.

In a far corner of Lambard's Tavern sat you with a cup of the Taverns, in the words of Kaveh, “best wine one has ever tasted.” You were waiting for him to show up after a meeting with a surprisingly easy client. You would buy his drinks for him today as a treat for his good mood. As you don’t want to burden him any further than he already could be.

After you had finished a quarter of your first glass — as you didn’t want too drink to much before the occasion had even begun — Kaveh came bursting in, luckily it wasn’t so crowded just yet. So he didn’t disturb many people with his sudden appearance. Many.

He looked around the main room before spotting you and quickly making his way over, “(Y/N)! Great! You’re here!” He smiled as he sat opposite you. After he gave you a kiss on the cheek though. It was always a sweet gesture from him to you.

And him to you, only.

Anyway.

“So how was the meeting with the client?” You asked as you rested your chin on the back of your hand, gazing across the table at him. The question only made him more… happier than he was a literal second ago.

“Oh, right! Well, the client loved what I had in mind! He said that what I had thought and designed what exactly what he had in mind too! We saw eye to eye,” He exclaimed with a genuine grin before taking a quick sip of wine from the cup that you had poured for him, “and get this. He also said that he will help with most of the cost of it!! Can you believe it?!” He stood up with his hands on the table. You were genuinely happy for him, it’s the happiest you’ve seen him in a while.

“Wow! That’s great, Honey! And I am glad to see that smile of yours again.”

As the day went on, you ordered a few more drinks and a meal because why not? It’s a good occasion. More people came in and went. Locals and travellers. Speaking of travellers, a travelling bard from Mondstadt made a pit stop in Sumeru and tried playing their music, which was a hit. It was much different to what locals in Sumeru are accustomed to.

Faster pace, more upbeat, more… joyous. Lively. Something that was worth dancing to.

Evening came and the bard was back, they brought more people off the streets inside to dance. As that’s what a lot of people were doing already. Singing local songs and ones from other nations.

At this point, the two of you were a little drunk, ones with the vibes. It was the end of the week, so it was so worth it.

“Care to dance with me, m’dear?” Kaveh asked as he stood and offered a hand to you with a bow, the other behind his back. Looking into his eyes you would see the same kind, caring being he is, the only difference was that you saw more love and adoration in his eyes for you. You and only you.

“Of course, my Love!” You smiled as you held his hand and stood up.

The evening was… a bizarre blur. A lot of drinks, like different types of wine. Lots of singing with everyone in the tavern, and of course dancing. You vividly being on top of a table with Kaveh, and him spinning you around at some point. Though the owners didn’t do anything about it, I’m assuming that they didn’t mind it. Everyone had fun.

A little too much fun to be honest, to the point that The Corps of Thirty came in and closed down the tavern for the night as it was even quite loud and the sounds where quite brash on the main high street itself. Disrupting the peace.

But even after that, neither you or Kaveh wanted to go home. Even if it was best because of how drunk you two were.

But somehow, the pair of you traversed to the Sanctuary of Surasthana, and made it in one peace, where the Lesser Lord herself would be. During the nights, she would occasionally walk around the city to appreciate it in peace, and you so happened to come across her here.

Kaveh spoke to her and had the idea to ask her to officiate something and be the key witness for the occasion. And of course she agreed. Upon her asking what it was, Kaveh would say, in a heartbeat – yet drunkenly confident – “I want to marry this lovely being here” he pulled you closer, “(Y/N). (M/N). (L/N). The love of my life!”

She didn’t care what time it was, neither did you two.

The Lesser Lord herself, and the guards, served as your witnesses.

It wasn’t exactly how someone would want to be married, but to be married by a God herself? You better count that as a blessing for a bright future.

But the Goddess didn’t want something happening to the newly weds as you made you ways back down from the Sanctuary. So she escorted you both herself back home.

She granted you the sweetest of dreams for that night, and she knew that neither of you would regret the decision. Even she knew how close you two were.

It was about 2am when you got back to Kaveh’s shared house with Alhaitham. And surprisingly, you didn’t wake him up. Even if he sleeps like dead weight.

You stumbled onto the bed first, then did Kaveh. No type of intimacy was shared, apart from some loving words and light kisses. All before you both passed out asleep.

Let’s forget the red wine stains and glasses in the living room for now.

Just how will you explain this to Alhaitham later on?

So this is how you become accidentally married.

I ran out of steam towards the end. Sorry.

[fawnsflowerbed]

His One Weakness || Part 2

Find part one here!

You’ve been beside Leon for as long as you could remember, but you both quietly yearn for more. Until a trip to Spain turns your world upside down and forces feelings out.

Warnings/content: RE4R Leon, fem reader, 2nd person (you/yours), violence and slight gore (obviously), swearing (also obviously), angsty yearning, two idiots in love.

Word count: 4,400 est.

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What you really wouldn’t give to be back at the shooting range right now. 

After an overall disastrous fight against a crowd of ganados to get a bridge down - obviously including some lovely ladies with chainsaws - and a near impossible fight against two El Gigantes, you felt just about ready to fall on your ass and take a five hour long nap. Strenuous labour was always expected in this line of work. Taking down monsters four times the size of you? A bit of a surprise. 

It was worth it in the end, though. Hand heavy with the dynamite you’d swiped during your dangerous journey deeper into the mineshaft. Knife blade dull from being boosted up by Leon to stab at the parasites poking out of the giants. Door swinging open thanks to Luis on the other side. It all still hurt like a bitch though, especially after getting backhanded into a wall by one of the giants. And climbing stairs with an injury like that? An absolute nightmare. Sure listening to a brief history on the religion suffocating the small town helped ease the pain, but what you wouldn’t give to slow down for a second.

The job description couldn’t have been further from the truth; get in, rescue the President’s daughter, get out. You should have read the fine print, squinted between the lines to decipher each lie. Should’ve known it wouldn’t have been easy, not in this field of work.

“I think my spine’s about to collapse in on itself.” You puffed out, wheezing, fighting with your oesophagus to take in any type of air no matter how smoggy. Arms leaned against the safety rails of the platform. The top of the staircase was as good a spot as ever to stop, it seemed. It gave the three of you some time to get your heads on straight.

 A leather clad hand in fingerless gloves passed you a vial of crushed herbs mixed with water.

Leon offered you a smile that was obviously masking his amusement. “Bottoms up.”

Taking the vial with a snort, all you could do was sigh. Time to take the usual steps. Give it a quick shake in hopes of making it taste just a little better. Unscrew the lid. Drink it down and hope the taste doesn’t have you gagging. No matter how many times you’d done it it still tasted just as horrible and went down just as hard. Yes, it was literally leaves and water. But what you wouldn’t give for even a drop of alcohol, maybe something sweet, to help soften the blow. A hoarse cough flew out of your throat while you punched at your chest to get the remaining herb down. Then you sighed again. “I hate my life.”

“Yeah, you’ll get used to it.”

“Will I though?”

“Probably not.” He gave you a soft punch to the shoulder as a sign of reassurance. Your usual action used to tell one another to keep your heads up. Starting at boot camp, continuing in times of peril. Times like this one.

The rest of the journey seemed to be fairly tame, walking up through another mineshaft tunnel dug out in the dirt and stone, supported up by shaky beams. More discarded crates, bags and barrels could be found, it was almost hard to not trip on them. Despite the town looking so small and vulnerable when you’d first arrived, it most definitely ran deeper than you expected it to. Yet again so did the mission. If you knew you’d soon end up in a castle you would have packed your finest ball gown (ha). 

As you got to the end of the shaft and shuffled through the stone archway all three of you were hit with an overhead spotlight. It was shining down onto a rickety looking minecart rail. The whole interior was much bigger than you were expecting it to be, with reinforced roofs and walls, and carved out brick blockings that had been worn down from years of support. The place had clearly been used many times before. Skulls mounted on wooden posts like not-so-subtle warnings to outsiders, a tipped over minecart left to the dirt. A few buckets and wheelbarrows, and some obviously rushed fences tied together with coarse rope. You were surprised some of it was still standing. You felt like a mere speck in comparison to the size of the room’s interior.

The real star was that track though. Leading into a tight tunnel that would surely drive you to more fighting to get back to the surface. It was an easier option than walking, though, and it also seemed to be safer than any other way. From here you could see what looked like steel beams holding up the top of the shaft. This track was obviously used often, which meant it was reliable. What kind of idiot would refuse such an opportunity?

“You’re not suggesting we ride this thing?” 

Leon. Of course Leon would refuse such an opportunity. Or at least try to, anyway. At first he was sceptical.

“Do you see any other way?” Luis asked. There was a clear mock curiosity in his tone; he knew this was the only real solution to getting out of here.

You, on the other hand, were already looking down at the cart mounted up onto the rails. Despite the rusted edges and one of the wheels being slightly out of line it seemed fairly safe. A quick nod of approval.

“It’ll hold us, we’ll just have to be careful on any turns.”

Luis clapped his hands together in celebration, just once. A small sign of a clear win. “Then let’s make haste! To  Princess Dulcinea!”

Everyone else was in clear agreement, all that was left was Leon. He put his hands up for a quick moment of surrender. “Fine. Not like we have a choice. Let’s go.”

With one last final assessment of his resources - scanning over how many herb vials he had left along with his ammunition - Leon gave his sore shoulder a quick roll. His left one to be exact. The one he told you about, when he’d gotten shot back in Raccoon City for all of the wrong reasons. Every now and again you couldn’t help but notice how he gave his hand a quick shake, like the ends were starting to flare up again, fraying to an awful fuzz. It wouldn’t be surprising if he had nerve damage from the incident. 

“Shoulder playing up?” Your voice had an edge of worry.

“Just a bit. I’ll be alright.”

Part of you believed that, the other part didn’t. Leon wasn’t one to openly talk about his pain, be that either mental or physical. He never had been. Shrugs of disinterest, half-smiles biting at his lips. He didn’t like showing it. Maybe someday he’d finally knock down some of those walls for you. Rebuild a few arches so you could walk right in, carve out the holes for windows so the select few could peek at his true self.

He was waiting for that day just as much as you were.

Hopping down onto the rickety track with a soft clunk, Luis was quick to hustle himself up and into the car. Just like you and Leon, he was ready to get out of here. Practically shaking with adrenaline. At this point you may as well have attached him to the back of the cart to shoot you down the mines like a rocket. He definitely had the energy for it.

Leon, however, was clearly teetering on that edge of indecisiveness still. Was this really the best he could do? No other way to get back to the surface?

No turning back now. Not from the way you were looking at him, anyway. 

When would you learn to stop staring into his soul like that? Big round eyes boring through his skull so it might crush into pure ivory powder. The once mighty Leon S. Kennedy had fallen prey to his one weakness.

You.

“Will you be alright sitting in the back?”

You couldn’t help but soften out at his words. For someone who claimed to have changed so much he still had the time to ensure your safety and comfort no matter how harsh the scenario.

But where was the fun in that?

So in return you offered up a rather rough pat on the shoulder.

“If anything I’ll be thankful, less axe-wielding maniacs to stare at. That’s all you now, squire!” You grinned at him. Leon looked far from impressed, in fact on the very opposite end of that feeling.

“C’mon, not you too.”

“Has a nice ring to it, can’t help it.”

The blonde scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

Once you’d dumped your case of gear into the bottom of the cart and ensured Leon was fine having his ass planted on scratched leather, you were getting ready to leave.

“Give us a push, Sancho!”

“Who’re you calling ‘Sancho’?”

“Offer on Rocinante still stands.” You grinned, foot outstretched to hop off the wooden ledge. 

“Ha. Hilarious.”

Finally you could make some ground, finally you could get one step closer to rescuing Ashley and going home. You could almost smell the overpriced aeroplane snacks from here, the plans for when you returned running rampant in your head.

You’d help clean Luis’ record and find him a good spot in a research team, somewhere safe on the sidelines. You could already see him getting along with the rest of the crowd thanks to his charisma and enthusiasm.

As for you and Leon, maybe one of you would finally grow a pair and ask the other out. Maybe lunch, maybe dinner, you’d even settle for a walk in the park at this point. You just wanted to be closer. 

But just as you went to jump down onto the tracks and follow, something reached out and grabbed you. Harsh hands gripped your shoulders and dragged you backwards away from the tracks.

Not knowing how else to react you yelped out in surprise, foot kicking backwards to knock your attacker away. An instant struggle.

You never were one for environmental awareness. 

Leon’s voice shouting your name broke through the mineshaft, drowned out by the frantic raving of the ganado you’d now shoved. He was already reaching for his pistol. Running up to disarm them would’ve been too risky with the cart already making a slow start. If he got too sloppy they’d all lose their chance. He just couldn’t risk it no matter how hard his head was yelling ‘help her’. He knew you knew that too.

Between the chaos none of you were aware that Leon’s leaning on the cart for support made it start moving. Slow at first, hardly a shove, but it’d managed to budge the wheels.

“¡Oye! Where do you think you’re going?” Luis yelled his question to you from within the minecart, tugging on Leon’s arm to signal they were approaching the beginning of the mineshaft.

“It’s fine! I’ll grab the derailed cart. We’ll meet up at the next stop!” With one swift kick your attacker was thrown backwards enough for you to get a grip on things. It was too dangerous to try and catch up now, and you didn’t trust running on the tracks this high up. You had to see your plan through. 

“Stay safe!” Leon called out, watching you turn to offer him a half-smile.

“Aye aye, captain.”

Just as you sliced through the ganado’s jugular you could make out the faint sound of their conversation. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this..” That same tone of his. Begrudged, in awe of himself really. Maybe in true disbelief of doing this without you.

“Hey, we’re in a hurry, right? Sooner we’re there, sooner we see her. Oh, by the way…”

“What now?”

“Hope you like thrill rides!”

You couldn’t help but scoff to hold back a giggle at the sound of Leon yelling out in shock and surprise when the cart hit an obvious dip. Luis didn’t seem too phased by it - if anything you thought you could hear him laugh. Those two were an unusual pair. 

Maybe staying back wasn’t so bad after all. This way you were less likely to experience blockages or unwanted attention on your journey to the next stop. True, that was a stretch (thanks to your awful luck) but there was no harm in having a little hope.

You’d spotted your derailed transportation when you’d first stepped onto the rickety wooden platform, sat just behind the shoddy fencing and left to rust. Now was its time to shine. 

Pulling the tipped over cart upright was easier than expected, it’d looked heavier than it actually was. Fairly smaller, potentially faster compared to the larger one the boys had taken. It was probably a storage cart of some kind, one they’d hook onto the back of the main cars for things like coal. You’d fit though, and likely pick up some speed, meaning you’d reach Leon and Luis in no time. 

Clunking harshly against the rails of the tracks, you lined up the shaky wheels just right. You knew your job was done when a few stray sparks flew from the steel. Finally things were going your way. With a quick swing of your arm, you let your attaché case sit at the bottom of the minecart, giving it a nudge to see if the wheels worked. Sure enough they squealed out in protest, but that didn’t stop them from moving along the rail by a few inches. Bingo. A harsh tug backwards had it stalling to a stop. Now you were getting somewhere. Retrieving your knife from the corpse back up on the platform had you feeling pretty confident in your chances.

Past tense was important in this situation. Things quickly went wrong. Something moved somewhere. You didn’t know where, couldn’t spot much change in where you stood. That definitely wasn’t a rat though. 

All air was knocked from your body when a hard arm was thrusted against your gut, winding you. Pain shot through your whole body, eyes scrunching. With a groan you doubled over onto one knee to clutch at your stomach.

Someone was still here with you.

And they were laughing at you. Cackling.

“Well, if it isn’t the most promising newbie in my squad.”

That voice. That fucking voice mocking you like it had so many years ago. The one that belonged to heavy scars and the raining of bullets. Added insult to injury in your military training. 

No. Surely not. It couldn’t be. They picked you up by the back of your shirt, twisting it to hold you like one would a wet cat.

“Never were one for environmental awareness, were you?”

A harsh toss sent you back to the solid rock of the platform, your clothes skidding roughly across the ground.

Your eyes were shot wide in disbelief, in fear.

The person that led you on endless missions through an overgrown environment, void of hope and packed with constant challenges. Who was with you when you’d barely survived once, fighting for your lives in the jungle. 

“Major Krauser? What are you- But, how? Why?”

You’d wept over this man, you’d been told of his presumed death after the incident associated with Operation Javier. A crash, a slip up, something that went wrong. Something that led to a corpse they called his. They deemed it was him, dental records and all.

You were stupid enough to believe it. 

“Oh y’know. Just thought I’d do a little pest control.”

But this man was so clearly alive and kicking, not a bead of sweat, not a shake of nerves in his body. All you could see was a knife in his hand, a large jagged scar down the left side of his face, and a pair of bloodshot eyes set on one thing.

“There’s been these three rats really getting on my fucking nerves.”

Killing you.

Rolling to your side gave you some time to get your footing, but it also gave you more room. This was definitely not the ideal place to be fighting for your life. Not against someone like your Major. 

This felt wrong. He was dead, you’d attended the wake. The funeral too. All you knew was he’d died in some type of accident some time after, the details had never been explicitly given to you. Something the government refused to tell any of you, Leon included. 

Spitting your blood into the dirt, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Not anything new. Your lips fell into a grimace. “I won’t fight you, Major. You know I won’t. This isn’t you and you know it.”

“That was always your biggest weakness, newbie. You’re vulnerable, you’re emotional. And it’s going to get you killed!”

Krauser made a quick dash towards you to throw you a forceful kick, giving you an opening to duck under his leg and slide across the waitpoint. Crouched down with a hand planted on the ground, you gritted your teeth. That’s what he hadn’t taken into consideration; you could match his pace if he got too cocky. But you’d been taught to do the exact opposite. His laugh was bitter when he skidded to a quick halt.

“Good. You haven’t lost your edge.”

“And you haven’t lost your dick attitude.”

He simply sneered at you. Snapped like a rabid dog. “C’mon, fight back! Give me some kind of struggle. Put your training to use and I might take pity on you.”

Fine. Not like you had a choice in this anyway. It was either that or have your shit rocked instantly without any fair chance.

Readying the knife from where you had it holstered, you tossed the handle over in your hand, trying to pump yourself up. You needed that extra adrenaline to flow through your veins and wash out any of the parasite at that moment. Maybe if you focused hard enough you could use some of the virus’ strength for your own advantage. Maybe. You took your stance, words spat from your mouth like a spray of venom.

“Fuck it.”

At least you’d die knowing you put up a fight, right?

Yeah. Die with some dignity. Good thinking.

You hadn’t been in a knife duel, not in a long time. You and Leon would spar sometimes to brush up on your skills, watching the quick flicking sparks when blades collided much like yours and Krauser’s currently. Sarcastic banter met with cocky comebacks. A fistbump afterwards.

Only now this was so very real. No hands meeting in truce, only the sharp ringing of your blades. You had to put up some sort of struggle now that you were forced into combat. You weren’t going down without a fight, no matter how ridiculous this felt.. Clearly that’s what your past Major was looking for.

“Ha, that’s more like it!”

A deadly silence fell between the both of you, no sound echoing out into the open air except steel on steel and your rushed breathing between each swing, block and jab. Every dodge you could anticipate, every time you stumbled leading to a harsh cut to the skin. Still you hissed out and kept going.

“Of all the fucking places to see you again. We thought you were dead! I mourned you!” With the way you screamed you were lucky if the rest of the mine didn’t hear it. Every ganado in earshot reaching for pitchforks and axes. But it was true. You’d sat beside Leon for hours as he processed his mentor’s death, not a single tear shed from you nor your partner. He just stared dead ahead, like the ghost of Krauser was standing in front of him and delivering some harsh lecture on how he had to keep moving. His voice was haunting the both of you, just in drastically different ways. Now that same cackling bastard was back from the dead like some off brand grim reaper.

Obviously you were doing better than you thought, because after a quick slash to the arm he was staggered. Your foot collided with his ribs to shove him further away, surprised to not yet hear a crunch or snap. Still nothing. Your boots were steel capped, it was hard not to break a bone. Fuck. He’d gotten stronger.

“And what a fool you were for that.” He spat back at you. With a quick roll of his neck he got right back into battle. It was like your hit didn’t even land.

“Oh get fucked.”

So it was true. Any humanity or honour he once felt had now been sucked from his skeleton, not a bone in his body could care less. Someone you once looked to for answers was now trying to kill you, someone you couldn’t think of hating no matter how hard you tried. He was your Major, he was your teacher, and despite how much of a prick he could be those words of snark and bite encouraged you to keep going. 

The impact of his attacks had you staggering every few steps which gave him an opening to slash at your ankle. And it cut deep, deep enough to throw you off.

“Sloppy!” He snapped.

Blood was good. Blood meant your opponent had a weak point. Blood meant your opponent was mortal, was breathing, and would soon die. Blood meant victory.

Blood was bad. Blood meant your opponent had found a weak point. Blood meant your opponent was focused, was quick, and would soon kill you. 

Blood meant defeat.

Now you couldn’t get a handle on him. Sure, if you got lucky you could overpower Leon a few times. While he was strong, you were fast. Lighter on your feet and harder to catch. If he was a condor then you were a saker falcon, a pair in a two-bird inseparable flock since you’d almost fallen flat on your face on training day. Despite joining later than him and a lot of the others, you tried your best to keep your footing, persevering through thick and thin, mud, rain, and snow. Leon admired it. You admired his grit. Maybe that was your weakness, how easily you found yourself thinking of your mission partner and how far he’d come ever since his stories of the Raccoon City disaster. Maybe your former mentor was right about you.

Krauser was an exception because he was everything both of you were and so much more. It was worse than that though. Whatever they’d pumped him full of made fighting back even harder. He’d fallen for their mutters of salvation and power, clearly working alongside the cultists plotting against the four of you - Luis, Ashley, Leon, and of course you. 

Blood was seeping out into the fabric of your socks and streaming down into your shoe, a painful reminder of Krauser’s upper hand on you.

Every chime of blade rattled your brain into a different moment in your life. Collide. Posing for your FBC photo. Collide. Getting pushed face first into the mud. Collide. Holding back the urge to kiss Leon on the journey back home. Collide. Meeting up before getting deployed to Spain. Collide.

But your muscles were burning. Too used to the sloppy attacks of ganados or a quick parry before a roundhouse kick. Now you were up against someone with equal if not better combat skills.

And he used that to his advantage.

Then it was over just as soon as it had started, in the same way too. An overwhelming pain in your abdomen, his foot swinging right into your stomach with enough force to throw you to the ground with an unsettling crunch. It felt like your organs had been crushed. Knife tossed from your hand thanks to the impact. Your face collided with the coarse, splintering wood of the ground beneath you, blood seeping out into the boards as a permanent stain on the land. This marked where you’d been defeated. Where you’d died. Where you’d failed your mission. Most of all, where you’d lost your chance to so much as ask Leon to dinner.

You knew if Leon saw what had become of your Major he’d react much differently. Try to reason with him mid-fight, tell him he’s been brainwashed or controlled or some other hero complex bullshit that was admired no matter what.

You knew better. 

You could see it in his eyes, the way he showed zero remorse for you. How he spat on the ground as he walked towards you with that look. The same look he gave you when he shoved you into the jungle floor. Trapped in a chilling jolt of deja vu that chose to bare its ugly head in the worst time possible. Wood now felt like coarse mud. Walls turned to pouring rain that drowned out every coherent thought. Limbs sore from fighting for your life replaced with pains from hours of training.

His most promising newbie because they always fought back, right until the end. 

But it wasn’t a knife in his hand anymore. You couldn’t make out what it was through the heavy blur of tears in your eyes. It could’ve been anything - a gun, a grenade, a flashbang. Whatever it was, he was fast approaching you with it. Still trying and failing to recover from his kick at your gut, shaken limbs made an attempt to drag your body towards your discarded blade only to be shoved back down by Krauser’s arm pressing against your windpipe, kneeling next to your defeated, broken body. You felt like a worm, an insect about to be crushed under someone’s boot. You didn’t even have the energy to react to the pain, all you could do was struggle.

“Something tells me we’re gonna have a coward on our hands. If he wants to back down, maybe the rookie needs a little convincing. What do you think, newbie?”

You couldn’t think no matter how hard he pressed. Tired hands clawing at his torn skin. Keratin on flesh with no resistance to muscle. All that came to mind was fighting for your life and Leon’s voice calling your name from a mere few minutes ago. Now your own hoarse response was fighting to come out, a pathetic croak against the painful squeeze on your throat.

All rational thought was focused on the stinging pain in the side of your neck, a tight squeeze of pressure against the skin, and your vision slipping into complete darkness.

[eldaryasharbinger]

MCL New Gen Ep. 5 Review

Played the episode last friday and finally I'm sharing my thoughts on it (hopefully I still remember what I wanted to talk about...)

Since the episode is out for everyone, I will go straight into it so no spoiler free version this time! (still adding the cut cause this is a long post...)

I'll start by saying that this episode felt somewhat "empty"? I'm not sure if it was me playing it in a rush before leaving for the weekend but there really wasn't much going on?? at the same time the more I think about it the more I think it was just me lol

This time I didn't stop to take many screenshots cause again, I didn't have much time and I'm still not sure about how long it takes to play each episode, I only took a couple that I thought were intresting enough to share

This was of course very very important, as many of us were wondering about it, if it was actually poliosis or just idk design I guess

Turns out that whoever came up with this theory first was right! Love to see that especially after his reaction and expression during this scene, I'm sure there's more going on!! (if it ends up that we never talk about it again I'll just turn to dust)

SECOND VERY IMPORTANT THING HERE TOO!!

Some people thought that Jason came from a rich family, turns out that wasn't the case! I'm not really surprised since I really wanted him to be "self-made", like some ordinary guy that now got this horrible rich-person personality, he already looked like that to me so all I needed was confirmation!

----------

Now I want to talk about our interaction with Jason... I'm so so happy about it I kept giggling while playing lol

I could feel Candy's stress like it was my own because I've been in a similiar position back in april and It made me cry in front of 2 of my co-workers, only diffrence is that candy made a big mistake, I was too prideful to destroy my work for the client's ALWAYS changing "preferences"(?) (also I recently completed it, I just swallowed my pride and the client actually forgot about it so they didn't care as much and didn't remember what they wanted at first,, the audacity,,)

I'm not sure how everyone else feels about it (I haven't checked tags yet,,) but it was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO weird to me that Candy accepted Jason's offer to do HER job for her? I could understand a little help but Jason literally got her everything, all she had to do was call these people? I don't get how she didn't feel more guilty about it, isn't it like cheating in a way?? Jason isn't just this random guy helping us but the RIVAL COMPANY doing our job?? What was the point of calling us for the job if Goldreamz did it in the end, they just don't know

Everyone else congratulating her on the well done job too... I was dying inside I hope Candy was too, I felt so guilty replying "thank you" to Devon's text about the little gilr's birthday party like,, the f did candy do??

Now... I love that Jason helped her, I wasn't expectin him to do THAT MUCH (it still blows my mind) but I really loved how kind of non-chalante he was trying to be?? Also, Candy said a couple of weird things while joking to which Jason replied so bluntly but also what surprised me the most was the fact that he replied at all?? Like if I'm not mistaken, his dad died when he was a teen or something, and he just told her that? he shared something personal about himself like that??!! Mentioning the poliosis too and how it's hereditary, he just told her about it?

To me that sounds like a big deal because usually you wouldn't expect someone like Jason to share personal details to some random girl he wants in his bed once, so that leaves us with one true conclusion

he loves candy already and really wants to get to know her, so maybe he feels like he has the need to tell her more? maybe I'm just running with my mind again but I think this could be what we could expect in the future?

The illustration is absolutely GORGEOUS, I've already made an edited version with Petronilla here!!

I just really love Jason's expression, he's so pretty he's so beautiful,,,,,, I can't wait till we get more ;w;;;;; I could stare at him all day and I probably will end doing that at this point

ALSO!!!!! I GOT AMANDA'S ILLU WITHOUT SPENDING MORE GEMS!!

They're both so pretty, this illustration was finaly crafted I can see that, just look at all the details!! Girls having fun!! They might kiss each other!

This time I didn't pay for her special scene because I want to save up on the gems,, (I did get Jason's tho)

Not sure if I unlocked it as a bug, during the episode I unlocked it like normal but in the library it has the locked icon?

Still, bug or not I don't care cause I LITERALLY CHEERED when I got it, I wasn't sure I was gonna get it if I chose to work on my own (to meet Jason) instead of asking her for help, I apparentely made the right choices (I winged it after seeing the illu online) and THANKFULLY the outfit was the same one as Jason's!

I think I've said everything I had to, or better to say "all that I remember", I'm sure there's more from this episode to address that I forgot about so If anything else comes to mind I'll make separate posts about it!

If you've made it this far, thanks for reading!

edit: I am not proofreading all that

[snowyquokka]

SECRET SECRET

chapter 2

cw: swearing, angst, mutual pining, rejection, mentions of sex, rejection, lowkey obsession, college!au, afab reader

wc: 1.3k

a.n - this took wayyyy too long for me to write 😭

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You’ve been standing at Seungmin’s door for almost ten minutes now, contemplating if you should knock. Before you can second guess yourself into spontaneous combustion, the door swings open and reveals a nervous looking Seungmin. He has a blush painted on his cheeks and his deep boba eyes have a little extra sparkle to them. 

“Did you get lost or something? You took forever,” And there goes the moment. You roll your eyes and walk right past him into his house. You’re immediately met with a fragrance you know all too well.

“Do you want anything? Food? Drink?” Seungmin smiles. He looks like a puppy and it is ridiculous. How are you supposed to stay mad at him?

“No thanks.” You can hear the nervousness in your voice and pray that he doesn’t.

“So uh- fuck,” Seungmin sits on the couch next to you and blows out a frustrated breath. A twinge of relief courses through your veins at the sound of his shaky syllables and your mouth threatens to twitch into a smile.

“Your place is really nice,” You say sincerely. This is one of the first times you’ve stepped into a clean house inhabited by just a man.

“Oh,” Seungmin’s blush intensifies, “Thanks.” You nod and look around, waiting for him to say something. “Thank you for coming.” He wonders why you’re having this effect on him. You’re making him embarrassed of himself and he hates it.

“What did you want to talk about?” Now is his chance, Seungmin thinks to himself. You are quite literally giving him the opening he so desperately needs to shoot his shot.

“I wanted to see if you would help me with this project,” 

He fumbled the bag, as per usual. Seungmin has to fight the physical urge to hit himself right there. 

You, on the other hand, are ecstatic. Or, atleast, you would like to be. You should be. The guy you’ve done everything in your power to make like you is now asking for your help. But then your trust issues come to light. Right now you need to think about your mental stability. If whatever he’s trying to do ends poorly, you have no idea how you’d recover from it. The familiar twinkle is back in his eyes, the same twinkle that got you into this situation. But as soon as you open your mouth, his sparkle diminishes.

-

“So let me get this straight. Feel free to stop and correct me at any moment.” Hyunjin sighs dramatically on the other end of the phone, “You told him that you had more important things to do than help him? You little fucking sado-masochist.” 

You wince, “Okay, yeah, I suppose I deserve that.”

“You’re damn right you do. I don’t think in my 21 years of living- or hell even in our 6 years of friendship- that I’ve seen someone be so stupid. And you are far from stupid.” You frown. “No offense, I love you and all but damn.”

You cover up your flustered face with your hands, thankful that he can’t see you. “I know-” You whine, “I panicked. Like- what the hell was I supposed to say?” 

Hyunjin snorts “Hmm. How about Sure Seungmin, of course I’d love to help you. Maybe now we can bond and I can jump your bones like I’ve always wanted to.” You choke on air and your face turns such a deep red that you’d might as well cosplay as a tomato. 

“I don’t want to jump his bones, nor have I ever wanted to.” You lie straight through your teeth. Who are you kidding? The amount of attention he gives you is much more than any past boyfriend has ever shown you. Despite it being negative, you’re constantly finding yourself craving it- craving him. 

“You’re a fucking liar. Are you planning your own demise?” Your best friend scoffs. You sink into your bed and pray for it to swallow you whole. You’d never get that lucky, though. “Here’s what you’re gonna do: first you’re going to shut up and let me speak without groaning and or scoffing every five seconds. Then I’m going to hang up on you and you’re gonna call Seungm- what did I say about voicing your grievances.” You can’t help it. You don’t think you have the confidence to speak to Seungmin again after today. Like ever.

“What do you think I should say?” 

“This might come as a shock to you so be prepared,” You scowl immediately, “A normal person would apologize,” Hyunjin goes silent, as if he’s waiting for you to go off on him.

“Why the fuck would I have to apologize? And what do you mean by a normal person? Are you insinuating that I’m not normal?” You’re teetering on the line between bawling your eyes out and screaming until your lungs give out. You decide on the latter and put your phone on speaker, tossing it to your side before grabbing the nearest pillow and screaming into it.

“I appreciate you subjecting me to the ear piercing screech that sounds like it emerged straight from hell.” 

“Remind me why I’m friends with you again?” You pick your phone back up.

“Because I’m Hwang Hyunjin. Who doesn’t want to be friends with me?” 

“Dick,” you mutter. He laughs and scolds you again before hanging up.

-

A few hours - and two glasses of wine - later, you’re sitting on your kitchen counter with your phone balancing on your thigh while you nurse your third glass. You know you should’ve stopped at one. You know yourself well enough to realize that you get a little chaotic when tipsy. Which is exactly the reason that Seungmin’s contact is 

[You] - im sorry… delete

[You] - im actually in love with you and have been for the past 2 years… delete

You have to fight the physical urge to beat your head off the wall. What was wrong with you? It shouldn’t be that difficult to apologize- or at least explain yourself. You groan into your hands, using your palms to muffle the sound. You swear that your neighbors must hate you by now; the walls in your apartment complex are too thin for them not to. 

The options presented to you, you think, are either a) you apologize, which is the most unlikely scenario, b) you wait for Seungmin to apologize, actually that might be the least likely possibility, c) you ask Hyunjin to talk to Seungmin for you, or d) you move on with your life and pray that he gives up on you. 

Is that the smartest answer? Absolutely not. Is it the safest? Most definitely. At this point you’re debating just staying in bed forever or moving to a different country. 

What you didn’t realize, however, was that you’d underestimate just how much you affect him.

Every waking moment, it seems, he’s thinking about you. How you smile. Your outfit. Maybe he likes the way you did your hair. Seungmin notices everything about you. If you’ve changed anything, your mood, body language. He sees everything. 

He’s straight up fixated on you lately. Seungmin’s been thinking: maybe it’s for the best that you indirectly rejected you. Maybe he dodged a bullet and saved himself from becoming borderline obsessed,

But then Seungmin opens Instagram, a picture of you in a dress that he wishes he was the only one seeing you in, and he changes his mind. 

He’s not going to stop until you’re his, come hell or high water.

tags: @godslino @skzstarnet @myseungsunglove @seungseung-minmin