#himself that. i think that for a long time he struggled with what to label himself so he just kinda ignored it and shoved it aside

[potato-lord-but-not]

i am compelled to write fanfiction about your priest ocs...

for science what are each of their relationships with oscar and/or eachother? like what do they think of eachother, or how they act on that lol

OH MY GOD TEEHEEHEE Abe and Oscar were really close, having an almost father/son relationship. Abe never gave up on him even when he hit his lows, even when he went out drinking and struggled to stop, even when he told him his attraction to others wasn’t like most men. Abe cared about him so much, he wanted to make sure he was loved despite everything.

To say Seymour really only cared about Oscar because Abe cared about him wasn’t entirely wrong- it was definitely something he wanted to convince himself of. He keeps things to himself, he has a hard time making deep personal connections. Abe was lucky he met him so young, otherwise he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to break through that tough exterior (he would’ve). He and Oscar were never as close, but they weren’t distant either. They had the understanding that Seymour was going to be tougher on him, Oscar would always go to Abe first, and if push comes to shove, they would risk it all for each other.

Abe and Seymour? soulmates. Are they romantically involved? no, no they had never been in a relationship together. they didn’t really think it was an option. Does that mean they weren’t lovers? That they never cherished those moments alone where they could rest their hand on the other’s knee when they sat down for coffee? They never enjoyed a gentle lingering hug after a long day? Ofc not. they couldn’t be described. brothers was one way outsiders would label them, best friends another. Those who Understood would say lovers. anyway not to get poetic about it uhm those two were really really close. They had each other’s backs for decades, even when Abe started dabbling in exorcisms and the occult, Seymour still waited for him to return home with a fresh cup of tea and a hot bath.

Idk if Jamie is included in this BUT he’s just a really nice young man who had the unfortunate timing for becoming an ordained priest. He wasn’t really close to any of them, and he started the process of moving up from being a deacon when Abe passed away. This made both Oscar and Seymour waaaayyyy less open and hospitable. I mean, they still were ofc, but the underlying melancholy that followed them was not easy to ignore. They’re getting better, ever so slightly, and Jamie just being such a pleasant person to be around has definitely helped. He’s not entirely part of the family yet, but i can see Seymour taking him under his wing more as Oscar leaves the picture for a bit to discover his own path.

OHG MY GOD YAPPED TOO MUCH SORRY

[itsoutrageouss]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley being ready to go on his knees for his favorite nurse… but he has no idea how to show it.

Then he sees you at the pub.

It settled inside of him as a feeling of uselessness because he’s so used to knowing what to do. He takes action. He fixes things. And now he gets all flustered when you tend to his wounds, absentmindedly stroking his thigh and talking to him so so sweetly. Calling him a good boy when you finish the stitches, biting your lip as you focused on making them as neat as you could for him. He would stare at you the whole time, his cheeks heating because no one ever showed him this much care and you didn’t even seem to struggle with it- it was all natural.

You had labelled him ‘favorite patient’ in your phone but he didn’t know that. He figured you behaved like that with all the soldiers who came in- the reason you were such a good nurse.

After a well succeeded mission, the task force and the bases Staff all crowd down to the nearest pub. It was an excuse for you to finally be out of your work attire, adorning a black lacy top that made you feel sexy along with your glossy lips. He was already there, leaned back in a booth with Soap and Price as you walk in, looking around nervously.

He has to grit his teeth as he sees you. Fuck fuck fuck. This was gonna be a long night. He fisted his hands beneath the table.

This feeling of hopelessness, of not knowing what to do was so foreign that it bubbled into anger. Price frowned, noticing the rigid way his Lieutenant suddenly sat. Soap was too busy telling some story to notice anything, slamming down a hand, the beers rattling. Your colleagues crowded you into a booth that so conveniently faced him.

Why did he look at you like that? He was positively fuming, glowering, brows lowered and face set. You cowered under his gaze, eyes flickering away nervously.

His lips parted in soft surprise. Why did you look so nervous? Had he done something?

Because of course he was no clue how damn intimidating his so called love stare stare is. He follows you as you walk to the bar, leaning over, your skirt riding up. He has to blink up at the ceiling because it felt simultaneously like a gift from above, being allowed to see you like this, and like a curse from hell.

“Oh he’s down bad for her ain’t he, that fucker?” Soap exclaims, finally catching on as he lets out a hearty laugh. Simon glares.

“I think LT needs another pint” Price muses. Soap, ever the sergent he is, groans and gets up, patting Simon heavily on the shoulder before walking up to the bar next to you.

“You got him weak in the knees, Bunny” Soap grins casually, ordering the pints. It takes you a few seconds to comprehend before you lean backwards slightly, catching Simon’s gaze. This time he averts his eyes immediately. He was fucking fuming inside, not knowing how to get these feelings to go away. The only solutions he could think of were violence or sex. And violence he’s had enough of- and he’s sure the training dummies had too. Every damn night these past days he’s been punching his knuckles bloody, hoping it would satiate his restlessness. It didn’t.

And as for sex… he didn’t- well he didn’t not want that but that’s not where he wanted to start. He always threw himself into hookups or fiery flings that burned out too quickly, leaving embers he didn’t care for. He didn’t want that with you. He wanted to be genuine, slow, proper. And he had no idea how. He didn’t like not being good at things.

Your eyes stay on him, forcing his head to turn back to you. Your expression is unreadable, his fingers curling beneath the table before he rapidly stands up. You almost jolt at the action, the floor creaking from his weight as he stalks over to you and Soap, grumbling something.

Soap leaves, Simon trying to casually lean his elbows on the bar. “Just gonna wait for the pints” he tells you, then his jaw ticks because why did he say that? You probably don’t give a fuck what he’s doing there.

You smile softly, intrigued. “How’s your shoulder?”

It startled him, his head whipping to yours like you said something totally out of sorts. His shoulder? Right— It takes him way too long to answer.

“Fine. You did a good job. As always,” he said gruffly, looking down at the chipped wood of the bar, drumming his fingers impatiently.

“You look good.” The words slip past his lips, eyes quickly giving you a once over.

“I know.” He looks at you, sees a small glint in your eyes and the smile you smother. He wants to groan out loud at the sight.

A dry, almost laugh escapes him, shaking his head softly. “F’course you do.”

There’s a long, awkward silence where you both look anywhere but at each other, spines straightening, then slumping, then you both look at the bartender to keep busy.

He places your drink in front of you, three pints clattering in front of Simon. Neither of you move to take them.

“So I’m gonna go” Simon rumbles and turns, the pints clutched in his hands. He was overheating, fumbling in ever possible way he could and he couldn’t take it. You opened your mouth but he was already halfway across the room.

The pints rattle as he sits down. “So?” Soap asks as he leans forward. Simon grumbled that this isn fucking high school. But it’s not Soap he’s mad at. It’s himself. He had you right there.

You can’t focus the rest of the evening, laughing hollowly and sipping your drink with disinterest. Did he not find you interesting? It was so hard to read him that you started to doubt if he was playing with you. Maybe this was just the way he… was.

You hadn’t noticed everyone going out for a smoke. You hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you through the window like some kind of fucking stalker, only the glow from his cigarette giving colour to his shadow.

You down the rest of your drink, pulling your coat around you. The night is crispy, air poking your cheeks like needles.

“Are you ever going to ask me out? Because if not then I’d like to know- I don’t really know if you don’t like me or if I scare you or if there’s something entirely different at play but you cannot just stare at me and expe-“ a cold, chapped pair of lips silence you. They’re gone as quickly as they came you Simon’s eyes are wide, dropping his cigarette to the ground.

“I’m sorry- do you wanna- can I ask you out? I didn’t mean to do that but you talk a lot” he said bluntly, stuttering his way through his own mortifying actions.

He kissed you. To shut up your mindless yapping he… you shake your head in disbelief.

“You are unbelievable” you say, but there’s absolutely no malice in your tone- only wonder.

“Is that a yes?” He asks, his throat feeling tight.

“Yes. It’s a good technique you have there- do you do that on everyone? Kiss them when they talk too much? I can just imagine how Soap would rea-“

He did it again, eyes closing and inhaling sharply as he covered your cold cheeks with his hands. Christ you were a talker but he didn’t mind so much, if he was allowed to quiet you like this from now on.

[majestyeverlasting]

Hello there! :) If I may, I’d like to request a Joel miller x reader ⇩

something where the reader is experiencing a migraine (headache + nausea and all that) and Joel tries calling her all day while he’s out and when he gets home he finds her asleep in pitch black room and realises what’s wrong, but knows exactly how to comfort his girl? 🥰

*im sorryyy if that’s long or weirdly specific it’s just something I’ve been struggling with lately and I need some comfort about it don’t mind me😻)*

𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Summary Joel comes home to find that you’re suffering from a migraine in bed. Luckily, he’s helped you through this once or twice. [no outbreak, hurt/comfort, fluff, 1.8k]. 

A/N Thanks for this request! I promise it's not weird at all. In my head, this is Joel and reader from here with you. 

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Joel (8:57 AM) Sorry I missed you this morning, didn’t wanna wake you. Have a good day. -J

Joel (11:02 AM) Checking in. You up and at em yet? 

Joel (2:34 PM) Everything okay? Call you in a bit. -J

Still nothing from you. Joel locks his phone and rests his forearms on his legs. 

Today is the warmest day all week. Getting to ditch the extra layer is nice. Tommy shields his eyes from the sun as he exits a prim house with a spotless driveway and plush lawn. Beside it is another perfect lot, and another, and another, arranged around the whole cul-de-sac. He and Joel had been contracted to do a kitchen upgrade for the new homeowners and were in the process of working through the finishing touches.

From his seated position on the curb, Joel looks over his shoulder as footsteps approach. Tommy draws his leg back like he plans to kick him, and snickers when he leans out the way.

“Watch yourself,” Joel warns.

“Or what?” A smirk pulls at Tommy’s lips. “I’ll lay your old ass out on this asphalt.”

Joel shakes his head as Tommy sits down beside him with a grunt. A comfortable silence settles between them, and Joel fights the urge to check his phone even though it hasn’t buzzed. Tommy notices the slight tension in his shoulders but chalks it up to wanting to be done for the day. After the owners did their final walkthrough tomorrow, a three-day weekend awaited.

A cool breeze rolls through as Tommy stretches his legs out in front of himself, his jeans peppered with dust and dried specks of white paint. When he takes a swig from the bottle he walked outside with, Joel’s squints at the label, his interest piqued.

“Kombucha?” he says with furrowed brows.

Tommy nods as he swallows. “Sarah put me on,” he says after wiping his mouth. “Helps with your gut. Something like that.”

“A few crunches should do the trick,” Joel mutters.

Tommy snorts and elbows him. “Right back at you, smartass.” Joel huffs a breath at that. “Hey, what do you think about going fishing this weekend—Saturday maybe?”

When his brother doesn’t respond, he knocks his knee against his. “Anybody home?”

Joel straightens up in hopes of making his anxiety less evident. Except, he wears it like a second skin. To deny it would be to deny himself.

“What time you think we’ll be done today?” The break they carved out just started, but it’s his roundabout way of suggesting they get back to work. There wasn’t too much left to do if they locked in—some additional caulking, sealing, and polishing.

Tommy shakes his head as he calculates. “Three-thirty, four?” Then he narrows his eyes at Joel. “You’ve been sitting funny since I walked out here…”

Joel’s chest puffs with a sigh as he unlocks his phone. The text thread between the two of you is already pulled up, and all three of his messages to you are unanswered. Tommy leans closer to read them and bites his lower lip as the gears start turning in his head.

He decides to draw a little levity in, “You piss her off?” There’s a teasing undertone to his question.

“Don't think so,” Joel says as he shifts. “Gonna give her a call.”

Tommy nods and claps him on the back. “We can get back to work after.”

He heads back inside to give his brother some privacy.

When you don’t answer the phone, Joel leaves a message anyway.

“Hey, sweetheart. Haven’t been able to get through to you, but I’ll be home soon, okay? Four-thirty at the latest…” he pauses to bite his lower lip. “Call me if you get this before I’m there. Love you.”

•••

It’s quiet when he arrives home. Virtually undisturbed. The pillows on the couch are positioned in the exact way they’d been left after last night’s impromptu movie night. The TV remote is in the same place on the coffee table as well. There’s nothing that suggests you’ve been stirring around at all. He walks deeper into the house to find that the kitchen and sunroom are empty too. The late afternoon sun pools in through the window.

When he makes it back around to the staircase, he jogs to the top. The wood creaks beneath his steps.

“Sweetheart?” he calls out. “I’m home. You up here?”

His voice carries to where you’re tucked in bed, but you can’t bring yourself to answer back. Not loud enough for him to hear you, at least. The ache that once pulsed throughout your head has steadied to the point where you don’t want to risk overexerting yourself and tumbling back to square one. Joel would find you anyway. He always did. And he never viewed you or your pain as a burden. He knew how to cradle both, how to ease them without second thought.

Light pours into the bedroom as the door opens slowly. You can make out the outline of his tall, broad frame, and hear the soft sound of his socks against the hardwood as he pads to you in the dark. Thanks to the blackout curtains, there’s hardly any light entering in. Only the smallest slivers.

After his eyes adjust, he can begin to make out the shapes around the room. The red glow of the alarm clock allows him to see your face, your slow-blinking eyes.

Without uttering a word, he gently presses the back of his hand to your forehead, then moves it down to rest against your warm cheek. You press into his touch just slightly, and it tugs something awful at his chest. Makes him wish he could bear your pain.

“Migraine,” you murmur.

An apologetic hum vibrates through his chest. “You been like this all day?” he asks softly.

“Got bad at noon.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You weakly reach out for his hand and give it a gentle squeeze. It’s much larger than yours, rugged and calloused, but you’d hold on forever if you could. If he’d let you. With his free hand, he picks up the tumbler bottle on the nightstand to find that it’s light.

“I’m gonna go get you some more water. It’s probably time for some more Advil too.”

The weight of his attentiveness makes you nod like you’re surrendering. And maybe you are giving something up—the burden of the day. Of having to do everything on your own. His fingers tighten around yours in a final squeeze before he lets go.

You shouldn’t miss him in the short time that he’s gone, but you do. It’s the same tug that lingered in your chest all day, but is kinder now that he’s home. Not miles away out of reach. When he comes back, it’s with more than he initially set out for, all of it somehow balanced in his hold. He quietly sets it all on the nightstand.

“You can turn the little lamp on,” you murmur. There was a battery-powered ambient lamp alongside the larger one.

“I’m aces, honey,” he assures. “You wanna sit up for a second, I got your medicine right here.”

You prop yourself up on your forearm and gratefully take it from him. He holds your tumbler to your lips so you can reach the straw to wash it down.

“There ya go,” he praises as you settle back down. “Got a cold pack and some grapes too. Get a little something on your stomach before I get dinner worked out later…” He talks, almost absentmindedly, as he continues to get you situated. But he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s a routine he’s coaxed you through more times than he’d like.

A long hum rises in your throat as he positions the cold pack on the back of your neck. A stark but pleasant chill ripples through your overheated body like slow melting ice. All you can muster is another grateful hum as he sets the small bowl of grapes on the mattress beside you. There’s a crisp, sweet pop as you usher one into your mouth.

“Gonna go grab a quick shower.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” he adds lightly.

A small smile pulls at your lips.

•••

An hour. That’s how much later you wake up in his arms with his lips at your shoulder, his strong arm draped around your waist to keep you close. There’d hardly been any words exchanged between you in the moments before then, only confirmations of each other’s comfort and whispered I love you’s. You’d dozed off a couple of times since noon, but nothing comparable to the steady rest that came along with his proximity.

He doesn't realize you’re awake until you shift and reach toward the nightstand. The light of the ambient lamp soon illuminates the room, joined by the glow of your phone a moment later. Joel takes it as a sign you’re feeling better than he found you, and that’s more than enough. The gentle, repetitive tap of your thumb against the screen lets him know you’re going through old notifications.

His hand finds your hip beneath the sheets, where he draws slow, small circles with his thumb. It isn’t long before you lock the device and set it back down.

The sheets rustle as you turn around to face him. Sleep’s haze lingers between you as you trail your fingertips along his jaw in a featherlight brush. The scratch of his beard feels nice, and you continue the motion until you’re unable to stop the fond chuckle that shakes your chest. It’s no more than a quick breath, but Joel smiles shyly anyway.

“What?” he asks, voice a little gruff.

“J,” you murmur with a teasing lilt. “You don’t need to sign your texts. I know already it’s you.” You poke an affectionate finger into his stomach.

His smile grows as he offers a helpless shrug, warmth in his dark eyes. It’s impossible to fight the urge to scoot closer and press the briefest, softest kiss to his lips. He makes a small sound in the back of his throat.

“Tommy had me thinking I might’ve done something to upset you,” he says as he brushes a knuckle across your cheek.

“I’d never ignore you like that.”

Joel knows that, but says, “Except for that one time.”

You frown in confusion, but your mouth falls open in amusement when you realize what he means. “That was a million years ago, and it lasted five minutes—not even that.”

Joel chuckles, and when it triggers you to join him in laughing, you realize that’s all he sought to gain by bringing it up.

“Clearly it left a mark.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses the heel of your palm. A smile lingers on his lips as you laugh again.

He then studies your eyes, your nose, your lips. He loves you so much he sometimes wonders how he’s been able to manage it without bursting at the seams.

“You feelin’ a bit better?” he asks after a few quiet beats.

“Much,” you promise.

He kisses your palm again. This time he lets his lips linger.

-

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all! 

more of this couple -> here with you

JOEL MASTERLIST 

GENERAL MASTERLIST   

[anonymous-existences]

An Apparition in the Dark, Pt 1:

It's been a while. Yes, I was in hiatus, I still kinda am, the writer's block and the stress of personal life has struck me like Odysseus to Poseidon with the trident. But I'm gonna try my best to... Update my fics. :3

"I miss being human."

Danny Fenton, 17, Boy who has gone through so much, probably far too much for his age. Having run away from his very home to this hellhole that is Gotham, Why would he stay there? Because it's possibly the only place where he can hide from the bastards that are the GIW. He's not human so that makes him even more useful for the alleys, Crime Alley if we are being specific, he has hidden and ran away from the bats and they have never seen eye to eye.

Danny is a clever boy, ofcourse he would be because he's gone through a lot, but... Sometimes he reminisces of the time he was human. The time where he had no fear of being hunted down for experiments, the time when he didn't have to play hero for his town out of... The sense of responsibility he had taken upon himself when he died.

14 years old boy Danny, Died, in the very portal his parents had created in the name of science. Was it worth it? Danny wonders if his parents had felt the guilt of his death. Had they mourned him when they, by indirect faith, killed him. Because of their recklessness, because they were absolutely incapable of committing to lab safety precautions for their children.

Now, their boy.. Oh their little boy, Danny Fenton had ran away from home to they don't know where.

And Danny, He's just there. He will survive, he's always survived, he's survived death many times, he's faced the king of ghost, he's faced the god of time, he's faced gods and deities, he's faced more than a normal boy should.

"I miss feeling warm."

He is a ghost, a half ghost! Danny is a Halfa! He knows that, a lot knows that, that's why he's in Gotham anyways but they don't know that, they don't need to know he's partially dead. Just that he has abilities. He doesn't always need to play hero for these pricks, if anything he can use his abilities to play the role of... Justice.

Now he just sounds like A Bat, he doesn't wanna be labeled as a bat. Maybe... Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be like them he thinks, he stares at them from afar as they... Converse and talk, they're totally brothers or related in some way.

The Bat Himself may or may not have noticed the little lingering presence that stares from the darkness, from afar. Actually, he's the first to notice out of all the bats surprisingly. He doesn't know what it is about the staring eyes but they're not malicious, They're.... Not dangerous, Not entirely but something about the presence felt like they're just... Small and meek.

They're cold but they occasionally longed for warmth, The Bat would leave 'treats' or money hidden away in a spot where these eyes could see, the way they watched him warily.

" . . . "

Now Red Robin wasn't stupid, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne wasn't stupid. He's been... Watching, Observing Bruce whenever he leaves those items in a hidden specific place, near the darkness. He doesn't question it, he didn't need to... Not Yet.

Taking notes of everything, every time the items disappear, when they were hidden, what date they were given, observing ever so closely as much as he could without causing suspicion on himself.

It was going well, no one else had noticed, Not even Bruce but suddenly, one day. Out of the blue, he felt a presence sit beside him on top of a building. "You're Red Robin right?" The invisible boy asks.

Before Tim could react, the invisible Presence spoke again, "You're warm.... I miss Feeling Warm." And then he disappeared, "Wait—!" RR reached out beside him where he felt the other person was but they were gone... Like a ghost.

". . . Safety?"

It's been a few months since then, he slowly got warmer with them, helping them occasionally when they're struggling. Fine he's gonna admit it but they feel like family now— family? Damn... He hasn't felt that connection in so long.

They've heard his voice, but he was still invisible, he was still afraid,, maybe. He laughs at their jokes, They include him with a lot of stuff and they kept implying that he should come home with them.... Yeah.

Maybe he should, Danny smiled to himself as he hovered and followed them back to the cave unbeknownst to them. He was amused and in awe, the Batcave! Wow! Maybe he'll follow them around more often now.

As he wandered around silently he saw them out of costume— okay, Maybe Danny shouldn't be actually following them without them knowing but— "I hope he knows he's safe here." Danny's ears perked up when he heard what seems to be signal, or Duke as he's learned, spoke.

".... Safety?" He mumbled under his breathe, a bit taken aback by that sentence. They want him to be safe...? That... That was new....

Yeah.

This was nice.

"..... Safety."

[steddieas-shegoes]

Country singer Steve Harrington, who has always leaned more into the pop country side of things (think Wanted by Hunter Hayes), but wants his third album to be more true to old school country roots.

His label agrees but only if he works with Eddie Munson, a rock star who had to leave the spotlight when he got kicked out of his band for, well, rockstar behavior gone too far.

Steve isn't amused, especially because he doesn't care for metal music or rock star shenanigans. He was "raised better" and doesn't think Eddie could sit down and write songs with actual emotion and feeling.

Cue long songwriting sessions where Eddie is trying his hardest to be on his best behavior because he knows this is his last shot at being taken seriously, and Steve being surprised every time Eddie proves that he's talented as a songwriter and musician, well outside the scope of just metal and rock.

They write a song that they're both so proud of, Steve asks if he'll record it with him just for fun. The released version would just be Steve.

Eddie agrees.

It's an incredible duet, something country music has needed forever, but Eddie doesn't want that version out there.

The label genuinely accidentally releases their version instead of the Steve only version. As soon as they realize, they remove it from official places, but it's too late.

Fans have already heard it and have gone crazy over it, begging them to let the radio play this version, begging for this version to be available for streaming. The Steve version is great, but it doesn't have the emotion that's laced in the tone of them singing together.

Eddie finally gives in when he sees how happy Steve is about the reaction to it.

But the label decides they want them to tour together, have Eddie work as his opening act, perform his acoustic songs that haven't been officially released anywhere. Eddie can't do it.

He can't go back into that lifestyle. He couldn't do it to his band, who made him promise that he'd come back to them when he got his shit straight. He can't do it to his fans, who stuck by him through some rough shit, but probably wouldn't support a fucking country music career. He definitely can't do it to Steve, who deserves to have someone with him who can be trusted not to go off the deep end.

So he runs. He hides. His uncle welcomes him home, congratulates him on finally embracing his country roots.

It doesn't take long for Steve to find him.

Because he'd been more honest with Steve than he'd ever been with anyone. He told him about his childhood, his Uncle Wayne, his struggle to make it. He told him about his worse struggle when he did make it, how he got in with the wrong people, the wrong things. Prioritized the lifestyle more than his own life.

Of course Steve knew where he'd run to.

Of course Steve came to remind him what his life could be if he allowed himself to find new priorities.

Steve's lips were pretty persuasive, but not nearly as persuasive as his promises to remind him what he could have if he kept his life his priority.

"But what if I let you down?"

"You won't."

"But-"

"No. You won't. You're gonna do amazing things for yourself. And I'm gonna be there to see it happen. That's all."

And he was.

They co-wrote Steve's entire album while Eddie worked on recording his own original songs. He liked that it was an old school rock and roll feel, some blues, some country, some hints of metal sneaking in on a couple songs.

He called his band to come help him with a song, hesitant to even ask, but they came. Of course they came.

He called his Uncle Wayne to play banjo on a song, worried that he wouldn't like the heavier electric guitar notes over it. Of course he loved being involved.

When their tour started, he let himself actually feel nervous.

But instead of running, he looked at the man who supported him through it, even when his own career was on the line.

Of course Steve was there.

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Hii!! I just love serenity street 17 so much, the stories are all so wholesome and cute! 🥹

Idk if you're still taking ss17 bonus requests but it would be good to see from Wonwoo and his fiance. It's been a minute since we saw them. Maybe a drabble about them bringing Sock to home?

Hope you are doing great! Lots of love 💕

Hi! Thank you for the sweet words and the request! I hope you'll like it!

Word Count: 772 /// Warnings: none /// requests for more Serenity Street 17 content are open!

“I can’t believe he’s ours,” your voice was barely a whisper as you spoke. “Look at him, he’s so tiny.”

Wonwoo would’ve laughed if he wasn’t filled with similar awe and a feeling eerily similar to worry. His eyes were locked on the tiny being, memorising each rise and fall of his tiny chest, and the very pattern of his black fur. “He’s perfect.”

After many weeks of preparation, the two of you had finally brought home your first cat – your downstairs neighbour’s cat’s kitten who had stolen your heart with his white whiskers and loud purrs. Gently pressing him to your chest, you had dutifully refused to let go of him the whole trek up the stairs. Not even your fiancé could be trusted with your new baby; frankly, you weren’t sure you could be trusted with him either.

“Do you think he’ll like his new room?” you wondered, finally daring to let your eyes wander from his fluffy form and onto the decorations of the spare bedroom. 

True to your word, you had let Wonwoo paint the walls red and set up his computer in here. It seemed only fitting to let the new cat have the rest of the room, filled with several cat beds (which you had spent hours picking out at the pet store, with neither of you being able to decide which plush fabric was plushy-er and so you just got all of them), three-story climbing trees, toys and scratching pads. 

You realised that a large box labelled as a bookshelf still remained untouched next to the armchair. The armchair you had started assembling this morning, before giddiness got the best of you and you all but dragged your fiancé down the stairs to Elise’s apartment. You needed to deal with that soon. After you were sure your baby was comfortable in his new home.

This time Wonwoo couldn’t help but snort. “Darling, it’s a cat. He’ll like it either way.”

“What if the red walls are too bright for him? I knew we should’ve gone for the darker burgundy. It feels too crimson in here–” 

“Once again, it’s a cat. I doubt he can tell the difference between crimson and burgundy.” 

(He bit his tongue before he could foolishly admit that he himself struggled to tell the difference. His energy was much more productively spent reaching for the tiny kitten and giving his tummy a gentle scratch.)

Letting out a loud purr, the cat – Socks, as the two of you and his mother’s owner had aptly named him for the white socks his fur formed at the feet – spread out on his back.

You let out an equally loud sound of pure adoration, squeezing your hands against your chest to keep from squishing the new member of your family in an act of cuteness aggression. Your phone was out not long after, the camera app already loading up as you prepared to take as many photos as you could of the adorable sight. Maybe even a video  or five for good measure.

“He’s not entirely black,” Wonwoo noted softly, stroking the small patch of white fur on the kitten’s chest. “At least he’ll be easier to find in the dark.”

“You’d probably find a way to stumble on him anyway,” you grumbled under your breath while adjusting your phone to get the best angle. “God, he’s just perfect from every angle.”

“Of course,” he laughed and nudged your shoulder, “he’s our son after all. He takes after me.”

“You wish. I bet he’s a momma's boy.” You considered for a moment. “Actually, he’d better be a momma’s boy because I’m the one who bought and built him the cat trees!”

He raised a brow. “I helped.”

“You’re just trying to take the credit.” Another worried thought passed right through you. “Do you think he has enough toys? Is two cat trees enough? Should we get him a bigger scratching pad? Oh my god, baby, what if he doesn’t like the food we bought him?!”

His warm hand landed on your shoulder. A kiss was pressed to your cheek. “How about we take a quick family nap and worry about it later?”

“Family nap?” The thought alone made you giddy once again. You leaned into his side, resting your head on his chest as he reclined against the wall. “I knew I married the right guy.”

His chest rumbled with laughter. “You haven’t married me yet.”

“But I fully intend to. Soon. You’re not getting rid of me. Ever.” Your eyes fell closed. “Socks can be our ring carrier.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, darling.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

would love love LOVE to see some invincible x ftm!reader stuff, our ppl are in a drought </3

Mark Grayson x ftm reader 

Headcanons 

You didn't specify which Mark, if it was OG Mark, an alternate Mark, or the petvincibles. And, I wanted to write something more stand together, so here ya go.  

We have been so focused on alt marks on this blog, I felt OG mark needed some love. 

Honestly? I don't think Mark cares too much about you being trans. Unless you guys started dating before you came out, and you had to come out to him. 

Then, he wouldn't fully understand the experience, but Mark has always felt like a very understanding and standup guy.  

Though, he will have a moment where he's wondering if you guys need to break up now, cuz he's always just assumed he was straight. And breaking up would be most respectful for you, right? 

But Mark still loves you, and after a long conversation with William, as he's his like, information point when it comes to LGBT stuff, Mark realizes maybe your gender doesn't really matter if he loves you. 

He wouldn't be comfortable labeling himself just yet, but Mark knows he loves you, and that's all that matters. Now he just has to put up with William laughing and saying that he knew it. 

Hes also a very busy guy, with all the hero stuff and if this is during the time hes still in college. But Mark would still find time to try and research it. 

Expect him to go on reddit or other forums to be like “hey yall, my boyfriend(your age, ftm) just came out to me, and I(19M) wanna be supportive, what can I do to help?” cuz he just wants to do it right. 

No matter how you express yourself, Mark wouldn't be embarrassed about it either. Be if you are fem presenting, masc presenting, neither, or both. As long as you are happy, then Mark would look at you with those most loving puppy eyes. 

Mark also isnt scared to square up with anybody who disrespects you, or other members of the community. Hes always been a big supporter of William, and now he has you, and has just become a lot more aware of the community and how they are treated. 

No cops at pride, only invincible (and the rest of teen team/the guardians if they are at that point). 

Mark is also a big sucker for his partner wearing his clothes I think, no matter what way you present yourself. He would also try his best to help out, if you want help in being more masculine. 

I also don't see Mark as the type of person to struggle with saying he has a boyfriend. The first couple of times might feel weird in his mouth, but that's what you are, and that's how he will describe you. 

Mark openly having a boyfriend will somehow end up with him and Rex becoming friends quicker, because Rex is my bi/pan icon and hell yeah, now they can talk about chicks and dudes together. 

If anybody tries to be gross about it, Rex is the kinda guy to go “we literally wear colorful tight spandex suits, but your problem is that invincible has a boyfriend?” and Mark just goes “yeah man, what the fuck?” 

Mark would get you an invincible themed binder if he can, because you “gotta rep your boyfriend, right?” and cuz hes a damn nerd. There is also a seance dog binder somewhere. 

Mark would somehow get the GDA to pay for your top surgery if you wanted one, like, he does a job for them and is like “only if your best guys do my boyfriends surgery”.  

And like, top surgery has to be one of the cheapest payments they've been asked for. Top surgery paid for by the American government. 

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

rosé | f. odair

(final part of red wine)

part one, part two

summary: in the final part of the red wine series, secrets are revealed, and miscommunication threatens to tear you and finnick apart.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, blood, minor injury, mentions of forced prostitution, swearing,

notes: i’m sorry this took so long to come out y’all. thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this mini fic <3

word count: 4.1k

Finnick believed he had made a lot of smart decisions in his life—like rigging a net made out of vines to ensnare tributes in the arena, accepting secrets as a form of payment from his patrons rather than material goods, and mastering the art of seduction to manipulate his way out of various difficult situations. However, shutting you out was not one of them.

Half an hour had passed since the incident on the staircase landing. He lingered within the mansion’s extravagant walls, where other guests mingled and dined on a range of bizarre delicacies. He couldn’t eat a thing. His stomach churned at the image of your hopeless expression as he walked off. The expression he caused.

It had to be done. That is what he had been telling himself. It had to be done, otherwise, everyone in the Capitol would learn of his feelings for you. Snow would find out and most likely punish you for interfering with the arrangement he had—the sale of his body. And Finnick was very aware of what happened to people who disrupted the president’s plans.

Partygoers would have already begun to spread rumours of the scene in the courtyard. Hopefully, it would just be chalked up to a simple argument between friends. Friends. The label borderline disgusted him. You don’t fall asleep to the thought of someone and think of them the moment you wake up if you’re just friends. Nor do you look for them in every room you walk into.

Even now, Finnick was scanning the lavishly decorated banquet hall for a glimpse of your pure white gown, despite being the one who walked away. It was an instinct at this point. But there was no one in the room wearing white but him; his matching half was still outside, blending in with the winter snow. Or maybe gone home.

One colour did catch his eye though. A vibrant, almost tacky red, worn by a woman who was strutting towards him, her chin held high with pride. Finnick noticed the material of her floor-length gown. Silk. She was wearing your old dress, only the colour was incredibly off, and each hem was lined with red fur, conforming with her implanted whiskers. That was when he realised who the woman was.

Her ensemble was entirely made out of fur that clung to her body, complementing the whiskers that were embedded in her face which made her look feline.

“Where’s your dancing partner tonight?” she asked, her voice low and seductive.

The bright saturation of her dress was almost blinding as she stopped in front of him. He held back a grimace and plastered on a smile even faker than her voice. “She wasn’t up for it this time,” he lied.

“Well, everyone knows she’s out of touch with our way of life,” she said. Finnick ground his jaw, struggling to maintain his façade. Words could not explain how condescending these people were. “This dress is an adaptation of one she wore quite a while ago. Such a plain thing. I only liked the colour and bodice. The only way I could wear it in public was if I spruced it up.”

He thought back to the dress you had worn. Nobody had even come close to how phenomenal you looked. Where others needed extravagance and flounce to stand out, you only needed a simple red dress. Yet here this woman was, thinking she had the audacity to call you plain.

“I noticed. It’s very… striking.”

“Thank you, darling,” she purred. There was a predatory gleam in her eyes, like that of a wild cat about to pounce and devour its meal. “I was waiting for the perfect occasion to wear it.”

His forced smile twitched. “You’re certainly turning heads.”

“Did I turn yours?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.

Truth be told, Finnick hadn’t even remembered her existence until she walked right up to him. Obviously, he couldn’t tell her that, so he told her that she did. For a long period of time, they bounced back and forth, complimenting and flirting with each other, never dipping below the surface into a real conversation. Not that he wanted to anyway. Not with her. The only person he longed to conversate with was now out of reach.

The woman started talking about colourless topics such as the latest fashion trends in the Capitol and her opinions on the victor of the 72nd Hunger Games, all of which made Finnick wish she would just gouge his eyes out with her sharp claw-like fingernails. He couldn’t do anything but stand, smile, and agree. Doing anything else would result in Snow staying true to his very detailed threats

As the conversation continued, his attention began to drift. He surveyed the outfits of everyone in the room, amusing himself by deciding whether or not each person was making a fashion statement or tragedy. Only one person claimed the former title—the one in white.

Finnick watched as you entered the room. The giant golden chandelier cast down a bright light which caused your skin to glow with radiance; its glare enhanced the brilliance of your white dress. This brief moment ignited a fear in him that you had died in his absence because there was no way a mere human being could look so angelic.

“Finnick?” the feline asked, but her voice barely registered in his brain.

Captivated. He was utterly and completely captivated. One after the other, sudden realisations conjured in his mind. The first—there wasn’t a life worth living ahead of him if you weren’t by his side the whole way, and not as a friend or a fellow victor, but as his partner. His lover. The second—he would never let any harm come to you. He would keep you safe from Snow’s clutches, from the Capitol, from anyone who would put you in danger, even if it meant the two of you had to disappear into the vast forests of Panem.

And lastly, he was now absolutely certain that the woman in front of him could never compare to you, nor could anyone else in the ever-expanding universe. You were a basic human necessity to him. Without you, his heart might as well stop beating. Your laugh, your smile, your kindness, your unwavering support—every part of you kept him alive.

“Finnick?” the voice that went disregarded hissed again.

With a half-empty wine glass in hand, your anxious eyes searched the room. Finnick wanted nothing more than to sprint over, pull you into his arms, and cast away every trouble plaguing your mind. He couldn’t. Almost all eyes were on you, yet you hadn’t even seemed to notice. Only one person finally seemed to gain your attention, and that was Finnick, standing in the middle of the room, his eyes locked on yours.

The neurons firing in his brain signalled him to move and he did. But just as his legs started to walk, a forceful hand jerked his face to the side and a pair of harsh lips were crushed to his. Glass shattered on the marble flooring. Momentarily paralysed from shock, Finnick stumbled backwards, briefly catching the twisted triumphant smirk on the woman’s face before whirling around.

Your face was frozen with devastation; his heart dropped. Splatters of red wine had stained your gown, pooling in a crimson puddle of glass shards by your feet. Quiet mocking chuckles and whispers echoed around the room. Oh, if only he had his trident; they wouldn’t be laughing then.

An Avox rushed forward, attempting to clean up the mess, but you had crouched down with them.

“No, please,” Finnick heard you say to the Avox as he strode toward you. “Please don’t. I can do it.”

But delicate hands and glass shards never mix well. You gasped in pain. A jagged fragment you collected had sliced into your palm, creating another crimson pool in your hand.

Finnick’s strides quickened, eventually leading him to stop and kneel beside you. He wordlessly took your hand in his, cradling it as he inspected the damage. Blood coated his fingers, but he didn’t care. He might as well have cut your hand himself. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for him.

Pink blush overtook your face. For once, it wasn’t because he made you flustered or bashful, but because you were humiliated. He knew how much you disliked attention; now you were at the centre of it. Beside you was the Avox, tending to the mess of broken glass.

“Could you bring me a first-aid kit, please?” he asked with a polite smile.

They nodded and silently left. Finnick returned his attention to you, applying pressure to your wound. Your gaze was lowered, unwilling to meet his own. There was more to your demeanour than just embarrassment. There was sadness. Disheartenment. Neither of which were present when you walked in, only appearing after the feline woman had kissed him.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you whispered, eyes unmoving.

The Avox returned holding a medical kit; Finnick thanked them, taking the box into his hands. He climbed to his feet, hesitating before offering you a hand up. Much to his relief, you accepted his assistance. And then, without a word, you began walking towards the nearest exit with apparent indifference to the engrossed eyes following you.

Finnick didn’t bother to conceal his icy glare toward the crowd as he trailed behind you and exited the room.

*******

Pain of a thousand unrelenting bees stung the broken flesh of your palm. Even the slightest movement of your fingers sent waves of throbbing agony up your arm. But it was nothing compared to the brutal ache of your heart.

You had entered the mansion in search of Finnick, determined to mend the crack in your friendship before it crumbled completely. What you got instead was humiliation and heartbreak. What you saw was another woman kissing the man you loved, whilst wearing a horrible adaptation of your red gown no less.

The air had been sucked from your lungs. Believing he would kiss you on the dance floor in the courtyard was nothing more than a fantasy, a dream, a pathetic fool’s wish—every term under the sun that defined something not real. At least now you understood why he was acting so differently. Because he had found someone else and that someone wasn’t you.

A lump formed in your throat and you knew tears were approaching. As if your night couldn’t get any more embarrassing.

Your feet carried you down a long corridor, far enough away from the banquet hall that listening ears and prying eyes were unable to reach. Finnick still followed behind you, though you weren’t sure why he bothered. How could he explain what you saw with your own eyes? Plus, the last thing you wanted was for his new romance to think something was going on between you and him. Only in your dreams.

Unsure of your destination, you decided to enter the first room you came across. It turned out to be a lavishly decorated library, walled with large wooden bookshelves which were filled endlessly with novels and historic paraphernalia. Sitting within the bookshelves was a stone fireplace.

The door closed as Finnick entered behind you, the silence so loud that the crackles from the fireplace reverberated through the room. Your hand still throbbed something awful so you looked down, taking in the gruesome sight of your dress. A stranger might have thought you had just murdered someone. If it were televised, it would have been deemed acceptable.

You sniffled, wearing a small bitter smile. “I ruined Snow’s pretty white dress.”

A few moments passed before Finnick replied. “Red always was more your colour,” he said, his tone anything but playful.

Ahead of you was a great wall of windows; in the reflection, you saw him staring back at you with an unfamiliar expression. His brows were pinched upwards, pronouncing the lines in his forehead, and the corners of his mouth drooped in a slight pensive frown. He didn’t look like the Finnick you knew. This Finnick looked pained. Anguished.

You dropped his intense gaze and ambled across the room. By the lit fireplace was a cushioned stool which you sat down on, eyes staring into the flickering flames. If you were lucky, maybe your dress would catch alight and whisk you away from your troubled life. Okay, perhaps the thought was a little morbid, but so was a broken heart. Of all people, why did you have to fall in love with Finnick Odair?

Cautious footsteps followed behind you, coming to a stop beside your feet. Without your acknowledgement, Finnick crouched down, eyeing the bloody mess of your hands with concern. His gaze lifted to yours, which was still on the fire, and he sighed.

“Let me take care of your hand,” he murmured.

Before you could refuse, you realised contracting an infection was worse than giving in to your stubbornness. So, you nodded.

Finnick opened the first-aid kit and began tending to your wound; his touch was so gentle it was like he was piecing together a broken china cup. Using an antiseptic gauze, he attempted to clean the damaged skin, whispering apologies whenever you winced in pain. After carefully applying a dressing, he began wrapping a bandage around your hand.

You stared into the orange flames, wondering how he would explain to that woman why he left her behind. You wondered when their relationship started and why Finnick continued to shamelessly flirt with you in her absence. You wondered if their relationship would be the end of your friendship.

“Are you in love?” you quietly asked.

His hands stilled at your sudden words, then he continued wrapping the bandage. “Not with her.”

He secured the binding with medical tape and climbed to his feet, placing the supplies back into the kit on a small side table.

Brows drawn together in confusion, you turned to look up at him. “But I thought—"

“Things are much more complicated than they seem,” he interrupted. There was a clear vase of white roses on the table. Finnick toyed with the petals, caressing them between his gentle fingertips. “No one understands me better than you do, and there is no one in this world I trust more. But… there are still things I’ve been keeping from you.”

The troubled expression on his face melted into one of vulnerability. This was a new appearance for him. Finnick was known nationwide for his radiant confidence and charm; he never let his guard down. You have had difficult conversations before, such as discussing each other’s hardships and innermost secrets, but none of them seemed to affect him like this.

“Everyone knows about my visits to the Capitol,” he continued. “How I spend nights with different people every time as if it’s all a game for my pleasure. But it’s not true. It’s not my game I’m playing.” He began walking over to the wall of windows, overlooking Snow’s gardens. “There’s a part of it that no one knows about.”

You rose from the stool, beginning to take slow steps towards him. “Which is?”

The fire flickering behind you deepened Finnick’s features. It intensified the shiny bronze of his hair and enhanced the defined contours of his face, making it easy to see the muscles in his jaw clench with apprehension. He stared out the window so intensely that you were sure his usual green eyes were blazing with their own inferno.

Even full of angst, he was painstakingly beautiful.

His chest inflated with a deep breath. “President Snow… sells me to the Capitol.”

Horror washed over you in monstrous waves. Sells? Only one explanation appeared in your head as to what he meant. You remained silent, praying he would prove your assumption wrong.

“After I won my Games, he saw my success as an opportunity to please his citizens. He began offering me to potential buyers—'admirers’ is what he called them—who soon became my regular customers. They would use me however they liked. Some would pounce on me the second I stepped through the door. Others were relatively tamer. Kinder. They would have me take them on dates or watch a movie with them, but one way or another, it all ended the same way at the end of the night.” He sucked in a sharp uneasy breath before continuing. “Then there were the rare few—the ones who treated me like I was nothing more than a ragdoll for their amusement. They did things that were… unspeakable.”

Nausea churned in your stomach as your mind conjured sickening images. It couldn’t be true. You refused to believe that human beings could stoop to such levels of atrocity to make one person endure so much cruelty. Then again, you lived in a world where children were sent into an arena to fight to the death on live television.

Finnick looked like he was holding himself together by a thread. Every word he confessed shattered your heart into a million pieces. How could this have happened to him?

“I’ve tried to refuse but Snow threatened to harm the people I care about—my family, my friends. After I met you, I knew you were added to that list.” He finally turned around to face you, his eyes filled with such anguish, it shook you to your core. “The Capitol owns me, Y/N. Body and soul.”

Despair riddled your entire body. As you stared at him, the image of a teenager appeared in your mind—eyes sea green and hair a fiery bronze. He was just a boy when it started. A child.

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” you managed to whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want you to know.” His eyes dropped to the floor. “I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

“Less of you? Finnick,” you said softly, stopping in front of him. Your eyes beckoned for his; you needed him to look at you, to really take in your next words. “There isn’t a single person alive I think more highly of than you. No one even comes close. Can’t you see? Just having you in my presence makes me feel whole. You make me whole.”

Tears glistened in his eyes as they flickered between your own, absorbing every reassuring word you said into his mind, his bones, his entire being.

“You have brought so much into my life,” you continued. “So much good. And I would never have made it to where I am now without you. So please, don’t ever distance yourself from me because you think I will judge you. I won’t and I never will.”

As the room stilled with silence, a lone tear rolled down Finnick’s cheek. His Adam’s apple bobbed, revealing the sob he was keeping restrained within his throat. And then a smile started to grow on his face, small at first, but then it stretched wider and wider, deepening those dimples that you adored so much.

You knew that your words had touched the deepest parts of him. That you had managed to convince him ‘less’ could never be a word used to describe him. He was more. More kind, more genuine, more caring than almost all of Panem.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered in awe, looking at you as if he were witnessing the birth of the universe. “Sweetheart, you’re incredible. Do have any idea how rare that is for a person to be? I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve someone like you in my life, but I swear I’ll do whatever I can to keep you. And if—” His gaze drifted, seemingly wrestling with a decision in his mind— “if that means I have to share all my secrets with you, then I will.”

“Have you got any more secrets, Finnick?”

He returned his attention back to your face. The indecision from moments ago had disappeared and was replaced with certainty, which was underscored by a sort of tenderness that settled in his features.

“Just one,” he murmured. He paused, observing the universe before him and wondering how on earth he got so lucky to have the privilege of having it staring right back at him. “I’m in love with you.”

Electricity shocked your heart like someone had placed a defibrillator over your chest and hit charge. Love? You? He was?

“What?” you asked, dumbfounded.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” he said, shaking his head. “I should have told you everything. Even if saying this means I’m risking everything between us, I can’t keep it from you any longer. God, sweetheart, I love you so much it fucking hurts. I always will, even if you never feel the same.”

Somehow in the span of twenty minutes, everything you thought you knew came crashing down. First, your heart was broken by the thought of Finnick kissing another, and then it was healed. And then it broke again as he voiced his arrangement with Snow. It could never fully heal again while Snow was alive, not with what he was forcing upon Finnick.

But Finnick pieced together every piece he possibly could with his confession, one heartfelt word of declaration at a time.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. His eyes held a mixture of anxiety and hope for your response. Time seemed to stretch out as you tried to find your voice. How do you declare your love as powerfully as someone who just bared their soul to you?

An emotional laugh bubbled up your throat, your eyes brimming with tears. “You idiot,” was what you said, the words spoken with utmost adoration. “I’ve loved you this whole time.”

Finnick’s eyes widened in amazement and a brilliant smile broke across his face. Before you had a chance to react, he had moved towards you in one swift step, pulling you into his arms and crushing his lips to yours in a powerful, passionate kiss.

Your hands were quick to cling onto him, desperately terrified that if you let go, he would vanish into thin air. Every ounce of yearning and hidden affection from the past year poured into this one single moment, into the movement of your lips against one another, and the feeling of your hands cradling each other’s bodies.

Emotions were running high. You could taste both your own and Finnick’s tears as they streamed down your faces, salty and palpable with affection. The sheer relief of finally being free to express your love was so unimaginable that you felt like you would be crying with happiness your whole life.

Finnick’s hand cupped the side of your jaw and he lowered his head, deepening the kiss as much as he physically could to make up for all the time he wasted. His lips were soft and adoring, savouring the sweet taste of your lips on his. His other arm tightened around your lower back, pulling you even further against him.

You felt like you were melting into his embrace and happily, you would have. It felt so right, so safe to be held by him. The world outside the library no longer existed; there was only Finnick and you. Your hands settled on either side of his jaw, staining his skin red from your blood-soaked bandage. You knew he wouldn’t care—the blood belonged to you.

And that is how you spent most of the night. In the library, in that one spot by the windows, in each other’s arms. At some point, you ended up sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, both covered in red and feeling blissfully content. Your back was leaning against Finnick’s chest, his arms wrapped around your middle as he occasionally pressed his lips into your hair.

You toyed with the fabric of his sleeves, your head leaning against his collarbone as you watched the flames once more.

“If Snow ever finds out…” you murmured.

“He won’t,” he reassured quietly. “I won’t let him. He’s taken too much from me; he won’t take you too.”

You turned your head to peer up at him, wearing a teasing smile. “Can’t live without me, Odair?”

He grinned, leaning in closer. “Never without you, sweetheart.”

Once again, Finnick’s lips were on yours, conveying every ounce of immense love he felt for you through his kiss. The only time either of you broke apart was to whisper sweet declarations of your devotion and reverence before returning to each other again. This was when you felt most complete.

When you felt whole.

tags: @queenofspades6 @powellssaturn @bellamybellamyblake @heroinhchicblog222

[sailf1sh]

I am bored, so I'm posting my Zosan queer headcannons. Queer beam go 🏳️‍🌈✨✨

Zoro Gay/Asexual (He/him)

- Zoro likes what Zoro likes. There's never really been a time in his life where he's questioned his sexuality. He knows he likes men, and he knows he values a partner that's strong and capable. It's as simple as that to him.

- When he gets older and people start asking him about these things, does he finally learn there are labels for them. And again, he doesn't see it as any big thing to be worried about. He's focused on his dream, and relationships can come later.

- When he begins to like Sanji, he hesitates to do anything. He sees Sanji swoon over girls and simply makes the assumption that there would be nothing there. So he holds his tongue and moves on. Or at least tries to.

- There are times when he finds another person he likes, such as Luffy or even Ace. Ace leaves before anything could spark, and Luffy is very obviously not interested in anything romantic of the sort.

- He finds common ground with Nami, since she's in a similar boat to him. She will tell him how she misses Vivi and he will tell her about a stubborn cook. He finally finds a person to properly talk about sexuality with, something he didn't even realize was pretty nice to have.

- Eventually he settles on saying that he's gay and asexual. He doesn't exactly care about labels, nor does he know if these are the ones that perfectly fit him, but he decides that's the answer he'll give if someone asks.

- He knows he likes men, and he knows that he's not really interested in sexual activities. Not that he's revolted by them or won't participate in them at all, it's just not something he thinks about.

Sanji Bisexual/Gender Queer (He/She)

- Sanji is a mess of repression and internalized homophobia. He would never be homophobic to other queer people, but himself? There was no way he would ever be queer.

- He swoons for women and dotes on them, pushing any feelings for men so far down that he doesn't even recognize he even has them. When he meets Ace, that quickly changes.

- For the first time in his life, he properly questions his own attraction. He experiments. Only a touch though, because that voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Judge berates him for it.

- So he continues to hide any of those feelings away for a very long time. It's only when he's sent to the Kamabakka kingdom and meets Ivankov that he can really learn to express himself. It takes a lot of running, fighting, and yelling for him to realize that maybe he likes men and maybe that's okay.

- He leaves Kamabakka with the knowledge that he's bisexual. He learned plenty of things about the different labels and identities and everything under the sun--he's bisexual. Nothing else to it.

- Of course, when he sees that stupid swordsman again, he maybe realizes he's harboring some kind of attraction for the man. Fine, he can be bisexual, but liking Zoro? That boar of a man? Absolutely not.

- But after everything that happened on Whole Cake Island and Wano, he realizes that maybe he doesn't want to hide his feelings anymore. He needs to apologize first, though.

Zosan

- After Wano, Zoro and Sanji finally sit down and talk. It's tense and awkward, because neither really knows what to do when it comes to liking the other.

- Zoro tells Sanji that he was hurt when he left for Whole Cake, not because of any sort of jealousy but because Sanji wouldn't ask for help. He tells him that he admires his strength and stubbornness, and that arguments maybe became something he enjoyed.

- Sanji tells Zoro how much he struggles to believe that he's loved. He explains that he's trying to be better and ask for help, but it's hard. He tells him that he wants to do better and try to let himself be cared for. He also may or may not say he likes the way Zoro's muscles look and how his chest looks very heavy maybe he should hold it--

- They decide to try whatever it is the two of them are. Sanji still swoons for women of course, that's just how he is, but Zoro doesn't mind. He knows at the end of the day Sanji wouldn't actually pursue anyone else. Sanji dotes on Zoro a bit more, always enjoying being able to take care of someone, and who is he to deny the opportunity to wash the swordsman's back after he trains?

- They never really hide their relationship, but it still takes a while for the crew to realize. It takes Ussop stumbling upon them kissing in the galley for the rug to really get pulled. Fanky insists on giving them a proper room, and he cleans up the first mate's quarters just for the two of them (which also gives him the idea to maybe ask Robin about doing something similar with the Captain's quarters, it's not like Luffy used it, after all).

- They were partners, on the battlefield and off. They bickered and they fought, but they also went to each other after a fight to make sure the other was okay. They would do the dishes together and sleep in the same bed. Sanji had a spot in the crows nest just for him: an open window with an ashtray for him to sit and smoke with his recipe book. Zoro had a place in the galley: a corner of the couch with the supplies to clean his swords beside it.

- Over time Sanji was able to talk about his childhood more, and more than once Zoro offered to go and remove a few Vinsmoke heads.

- It takes a long time, well into Zoro and Sanji's middle years, for Sanji to actually accept that maybe his gender isn't as solid as he thought. It takes a while, but again, he manages to accept this part of himself too. Sometimes he likes to wear dresses and feminine things, and that's fine. Sometimes he likes to be called girlfriend or lady or miss, and that's okay too. Zoro loves him no matter what.

- Long after the Once Piece is found, Zoro becomes the world's greatest swordsman, and Sanji finds the All Blue, the two have a wedding. It's a simple affair, and Sanji wouldn't have wanted it any other way. They invite their friends and family; Zeff, the Straw Hats, Mihawk and Perona (though Zoro still grumbles about them not actually being his family), even Law comes--mostly at Luffy's insistence. Reiju stops by for a few moments to congratulate them, but she doesn't stay long. Luffy is the one to actually wed them, this being one of the rare times that he gets serious about something.

- Afterwards there's a feast, one Sanji prepared of course. Zeff and Sanji bicker about recipes, but Zeff has tears in his eyes as he walks his child down the aisle.

- The rings--or rather the earrings--are one of Zoro's golden earrings and a blue pearl from the All Blue. They love each other deeply, and step into the future together.

[gardens-light]

I've seen the Tamaran Reader asks, and now I keep thinking about a human reader who has the same abilities as Raven from Teen Titans. How would the TF One bots react to a Reader who is the offspring of Trigon? (Ravens Dad)

I've had a lot of fun writing the Tamaran headcanons, exploring how the TF One bots would react to someone with alien abilities and a powerful lineage. But adding in the dark magic and demonic heritage of Trigon? That takes things to a whole new level! "I can already imagine the mix of awe, fear, and curiosity they’d have—especially with how controlled (or not) the Reader is over their powers. Hope you enjoy these headcanons!

Transformers One x GN Demonic Reader Headcanons

Sentinel Prime

Sentinel first encounters you when his Cybertronian communications detected an anomaly within their very own planet, a strange ship crash-landing outside Iacon's borders.

Gathering his elite guards, expecting some kind of rouge invader within the old wreckage, which was cloaked in some kind of mystical energy- something that Cybertronian technology struggled to analyze.

But instead, he finds you- a hooded, quiet figure meditating within the ruins of your vessel. Barely reacting to the Prime's approach, only your glowing eyes flickering up at him. (A gaze that secretly unsettles him)

How your power radiates from your very presence, an unnatural, eerie force that Sentinel clearly didn't trust. His authoricating voice sent demands at you, his suspicion raising as you remained quiet. Only simply answering, "I am not your enemy."

Sentinel would be deeply conflicted about his attraction to you.

He obviously values logic, strength, and Cybertronian supremacy, and you're none of those things—an outsider, a being of magic, something he cannot categorize or control.

He’d deny his feelings at first, trying to keep his interactions purely diplomatic. But something about you intrigues him—your silent confidence, your ability to read his emotions before he even speaks.

The relationship would be tension-filled—arguments disguised as 'debates,' standing too close, eyes lingering too long. Eventually, his obsession wins out, and he gives in to the forbidden attraction.

He doesn’t fully understand your powers, and that frustrates him.

Despite himself, he enjoys the way you keep him on edge—how you challenge him, see past his arrogance, and forcing him to question himself.

The first time you use your dark energy, Sentinel instinctively raises his shield, bracing for impact. If you levitated debris, he’d bark, “What kind of sorcery is this?!” He would also try to rationalize your abilities as a form of science. (But deep down, it unsettles him.) His tactical mind would see the advantage of such abilities, though he’d never admit it.

Your relationship would be a constant push and pull—Sentinel struggling to maintain control, while you remain unshaken by his authority.

Starscream

Starscream finds you unconscious, drifting in space just outside of Cybertron's orbit, after escaping from an attack from your homeworld.

Initially, at first glance he thinks you're some lost, pathetic organic. Tempted to leave you to your fate- but it was something about the energy radiating from you made him hesitate. Bringing you to his hideout to the far outskirts of Iacon, among the rest of the High Guard that Sentinel Prime labeled as 'traitors'. Starscream studies you, couldn't help but be fascinated by the dark aura surrounding you.

When you waken, you immediately use your abilities to retrain him. Forcing the Seeker onto his knees, bounding his arms behind his back. Your calm voice only giving him one warning, "don't try anything."

Starscream simply laughs off your warning, gazing at you with his usual unbothered and cocky bravado. But secretly... he's shaken- not just by your power, but by how calm and composed you are, despite the situation.

Starscream adores the mystery that surrounds you.

He’s constantly trying to pry information out of you, wanting to know what you are, how your powers work, and what you fear.

At first, he sees you as a tool, someone with immense power he can manipulate to his advantage.

But over time, he becomes genuinely attached, fascinated by your calm, no-nonsense attitude—so different from his own dramatic nature.

The first time you'd levitates objects, his wings snap back in shock If you created portals or shields, he’d reel back in awe. Unlike Sentinel, Starscream wouldn’t fear your powers—he would be excited by them. “Such raw potential… if I had such power, I would have ruled Cybertron long ago…”

He would constantly test your limits, baiting you into displays of strength, trying to see if there’s a weakness.

He secretly tries to impress you, despite you already stating that you're never phased by his boasting. That infuriates him… and makes him more obsessed.

He’d be clingy in secret, never admitting how much he craves your presence.

Whenever you touch him gently, even just brushing his wing, Starscream's processor can't help but short-circuit a little. Causing a low purr to escape from his engine, (which certainly wasn't him enjoying your touch or anything.)

The relationship would be volatile yet deeply magnetic—filled with sarcastic banter, stolen moments, and Starscream’s desperate need to continuously prove himself to you.

B-127

While exploring Cybertron's wastelands, (you can't expect this mech to never secretly adventure to the surface, after experiencing it.) his scanners starts detecting an unknown energy signature, heading deeper into the ruins of Cybertron's forgotten past. Bee's optics widen, as he sees you simply levitating in deep meditation.

Of course, Bee couldn't contain his excitement and curiosity. Immediately rapidly asking a million questions, despite you answering with short and simple explanations. Bee somehow found comfort in your gentle, yet monotone voice.

He’d be adorably persistent, trying his best to make you open up about your powers, how they work and where you've came from. The first time you lift something with telekinesis, he gasps dramatically. “That. Was. Awesome! Do it again!” Bee wouldn't be scared at all—mainly excited and curious. He’d probably ask too many questions—“How does it work? Do you get tired? Can you lift me?”

Your friendship would be built on patience—you teaching him about meditative practices, while he taught you about Cybertronian culture. (At least his personal favourites of Cybertronian culture.)

Bee would always try to make you laugh, even when you insists you doesn’t need humor. But when you do actually laugh at one of his jokes, he freezes, then immediately melts into a happy mess.

The first time you touch his faceplates out of affection, his systems heat so hard that his optics flicker.

Your soft and intimate moments would be him offering you small trinkets, showing you his favorite spots on Cybertron, and playing music or singing something for you whenever you seemed stressed.

Your first kiss would be awkward but sweet—B-127 wouldn't quite understand of what to do, but would certainly be eager to try again and again.

Orion Pax

Peering through the many shelves within The Achieves, Orion spots you searching for information on civilizations. At first, he assumed you were just another scholar, but as he slowly approaches his optics widen once realizating you wasn't Cybertronian. Of course he's startled yet... intrigued.

Orion gives you a warm smile once your gazes met. "Are you... looking for something in particular? If so, I'm happy to help if you require some assistance. I'm Orion Pax, by the way."

You return his smile, hugging a book. And before you knew it, the pair of you spent hours discussing the intersection of history and mysticism.

You enjoyed Orion's thoughtful nature, while he couldn't help but be fascinated by your ancient knowledge and cryptic insights.

Orion would fall for your intellect before developing an emotional bond—drawn to your wisdom and unshakable presence. And when you use your abilities in front of him for the first time he's both awed and analytical.

*Your abilities... they defy all known science." Yet instead of fear, Orion would see the moment as a potential for knowledge and coexistence.

Romance would be a gentle and deeply emotional bond, built on trust and shared knowledge.

Orion would write to you as often as he could—letters filled with poetry and reflections on your conversations.

You'd both take care of the slow-burn relationship, you both may be hesitant to act on on your feelings until one quiet moment changes everything—a brush of hands, a long gaze, an unspoken understanding. The first time you touch his spark casing, Orion couldn't help from but shudder—not from fear, but from the overwhelming depth of your connection.

D16

You were originally a prisoner, Sentinel Prime accused you of being a threat against Cybertron and it's people (since you saw through his lies and refused to bow to his whim), and that your unknown powers was 'proof' of the dangers you could bring. D16 first lays optics on you as he tries to fix one of Orion's messes.

For a moment, D16 just sees you as another victim of oppression and decides to free you, expecting you to join his cause of freeing Iacon from Sentinel's rule.

"Unlike you, I am not a 'wanna-be' solider. My goal is to merely survive till I escape this strange planet." You coldly spoke, giving him a brief thankful gaze before leaving.

He can't help but frustrated- you're clearly a powerful being, someone who possesses the strength crush anyone with a wave of your hand, and yet you remaned... neutral? This would cause D16 to constantly challenge you, trying to understand you.

The first time you use your abilities, D16 watches intently, analyzing everything you can do in major detail. He wouldn't be scared nor see you as a tool, but someone who's quiet strength and wisdom should be greatly respected.

He would be intensely protective, claiming he doesn’t care, but always secretly ensuring your safety.

The arguments would be deep, philosophical debates about war, peace, and fate.

When you touch his faceplates softly, he tenses—unused to such gentle affection. A passionate, almost dangerous romance would ensure, a connection of raw and electric, built on mutual respect and challenges. D16 would never say "I love you", but you'd see his actions scream it—standing in front of you in battle, ensuring you never feel trapped.

[dazedantics]

Hiii!!! I’m not sure if your commissions are open, but then at least this is gonna be in your inbox,

Joker Mohawk!Mark x Harley Quinn reader, like they are both batshit crazy, but mark isn’t like toxic towards reader, and they be kissing while they nuke/kill massive amounts of people and ruin buildings, like them going around soaked in blood smiling as they raid their 25th house that evening, like they are so in love with eachother,

And like imagine if reader gets hurt, then he will carry her (with one arm or bridal carry) as he flies in the sky, watching the area were reader got hurt burn while cradling his precious

Thank you for listening!

Wild Card Joker Mohawk Mark x Harley Quinn Reader

Haven't really written directly for the Mark variants so this may be a little shaky, but I hope you like it

No one wants to end up like this.

Get into a discussion about whether it's better to be respected or feared, most people choose respect. You didn't always agree with it that, but what are you gonna do? Voice the risky answer and sow a disturbance that drags behind you whenever you enter a room?

No one wants to find themselves on the wrong side of a war.

Research old battles and there are clear good guys and bad guys. Heroes are praised while villains get crap for the rest of their life. And hardly is there respect for the few who can't clearly be labeled as one of the two.

No one wants to be deemed gone. Lost. Insane.

People pity the deranged, patronize as they say how they pray for them to get better. Then go on with their day, averting eyes, speeding past all the weirdos in the streets. Who cares what happens as long as they don't end up as them, right?

You used to do the same. Simply acting as polite society expected one to be. Stay on track, be kind but hold your tongue, speak your truth but don't let those risky opinions out lest you tarnish your precious reputation. Presentation is everything, you know? If people become uncomfortable around you then you basically become good as the garbage draining down the gutter.

Suppose that's why you like Mark.

He dosen't care about all those unspoken rules. He doesn't care what people want. Or think. Or say.

He only cares about what he wants. What he likes. Enjoying himself.

Maybe that makes him selfish.

But when he first showed up? Crumbling once steady skyscrapers, punching through the rich, the needy, and everyone in-between, brushing off their splattered blood, laughing above the cutting screams? Gloating about this world's pathetic lack of control, then seizing it without much of a struggle?

You decided you didn't care if he was selfish.

And you actually cracked a smile. One that wasn't forced out of necessary politeness.

You watched your old colleagues scatter by, tears of fear running down their cheeks. One ran into you. And then you lost it.

You started to laugh. Swinging them round like a kid in a playground. Couldn't they see? Nothing mattered anymore. No one has to restrain themselves by playing nice. This new guy in town was going to make changes for the better!

You have to meet him.

Your colleague shouted as they wretched away from you. And there was no reason for what you did next. But when they said you were acting crazy, that you needed to pull it together and find a way out of the city? You decided to follow in the Viltrumite's footsteps.

You snapped their neck and delighted in that bubbly feeling springing in your gut. It had never felt so good to laugh.

A new you was born that day. Or rather, your true self had been set free.

You went on for hours, your spree becoming more loose and experimental. So many methods, so much time. You truly forgot about Mark in those moments, practically moving in a daze as you searched for people in hiding.

But you had certainly caught Mark's attention by then.

Not noticing him watching from a distance, distracted by the unexpected, yet not uninteresting display. Snide grin spreading further on his lips.

If he hadn't been more than a human, you probably could've done some real damage to him as he got closer.

He was taunting and he was crass, poking fun at your unskilled manner. Seemed to be trying to goad you into attacking him as well.

But when he finally set foot on the ground, chest to your back as he let his hands grip your hips, lips to your ear as he whispered tricks to make the process go faster? You both knew this invasion couldn't have been a mere coincidence. You were meant to have met each other this way.

It was obvious you were asked to help rule his empire. And you learned to the extent that you could love his percieved selfishness.

You sit on the arm of his throne, leaning in to whisper news about the people trying to rebel. It's not hard to find their hideouts when you knew this world like the back of your hand. You do everything to be useful to him.

And he'll reward you with a hug and a kiss. But he's not soft and he's not fleeting. No, he yanks and pulls, rich with teases as he kisses you like you have nowhere else to be. God forbid someone interrupt. And if you praise him, those habits will only get worse.

Mark's taken a liking to you. So if anyone ever gives you trouble, you know he'll handle it. He'll even let you in on the fun. Whaddya say, babe? Should we give them a chance to run, five second head start? Or play around, torture them a bit?

You always get to provide your input on what happens to these people now.

It's nice ruling with him, sitting far above the rest, getting to see that scared look in people's eye once they see you. But sometimes the scenery in the throne room can get a little boring. So you go out on dates.

Anywhere you'd like, the world's your oyster after all. You sit in his arms, all nice and cozy, kissing up his neck as he flies you around, telling him how great he is and how you'd do anything for him.

You never plan where you're going. Sometimes you go on normal dates, making out in the ruined parks, star gazing till the sun comes up. It's nice and all, but you both prefer more excitement than sitting and enjoying nature can give you.

So you go to the city to have some fun. See who can kill the most people by the end of the night. Which of you can knock down the building fastest, his raw power or your bombs and other weapons? Who'll be the one to spark the flames that rage through the city first?

It's lovely. Watching the smoke pour out the doors, picking off the last few ants that stumble out of the buildings. Making a mess on the pavement, staining your clothes in a glossy coat that you won't easily wash off, careful hands drenched with a vibrant red. You laughter free and truly happy, ringing high above the terror. Watching Mark grin as he taunts the few still alive, drawing them out into a slow, painful death.

You couldn't be more greatful that he'd come to your world, that you got to see him like this.

You go over, turning him by his shoulder. You don't say much, just smile sweetly, hoping your eyes can convey how content you are. And you kiss him slow. Savoring him, thinking over every moment that had led to you being here.

When you pull back, his lips are stained red with the blood that had splashed over yours. An effective mark to seal you to him.

Thank goodness you already thought so, cause if he wasn't obsessed before, there was definitely no getting away now. I mean, how's he supposed to think when he sees you looking so tenderly at him like that?

He'd go through hell or high water to keep you at his lap.

He never really had to prove it, you would have believed anything he said.

But when you'd been ambushed on one of your outings, not responding to him for a certain amount of time. Laying on the ground, pinned by a few resourceful rebels. Getting kicked and beat for being a traitor to your own kind. Blood, your blood spilling around you. And you mutter out a weak, little, "Mark."

He proved he wasn't all pomp and words.

In an instant the roof caves in, light shining down on the rebel base like a spotlight. One second to scan the area, one second for the rebels to realize what true fear is, one second for you to laugh as you tell them how they messed up.

Then everything is a blur.

Screams are cut short as black and blue zips past, slicing through them like paper. Blood is spilt, organs are flayed, bones are splintered through as easily as toothpick, clothes becoming the kindling that would melt the flesh from their skeletons.

You're laughing, sides aching as you cough up fluids. You had warned them about this and they hadn't listened. So why wouldn't you enjoy their idiocy?

Mark though?

Mark was silent, for the first time since you had met him. He wasn't playful or joking as he usually does. Quick and efficient as he worked through the whole base.

You weren't on the ground long before he came over to get you. He held you carefully, not wanting to hurt you. Intimately close to his chest, not caring how dirty he'd end up after. He flew you back out the opening he'd made, stopping and turning a good distance away to watch the base crumble. The flames licking higher and higher, reflected in his soft brown eyes.

Right now though, his eyes were not soft. They looked on with disdain, stormy with thoughts you couldn't quite pinpoint. And his lips were set in a thin line. Frowning didn't suit him.

His hands were slowly starting to become painful in their grip on you.

So you kissed his cheek and thanked him. Once, then twice, coaxing him with smaller kisses as you insisted that you were okay.

Maybe he didn't agree, but his grip lightened and he looked down at you.

So pliant and delicate in his arms. You were still bruised in ways you shouldn't have been, by people who shouldn't be touching you. And he remembered how fragile you were compare to his Viltrum genes.

This would never happen again. If you were to be at side for forever then it couldn't happen again.

He'd make an example out of anyone who dared to think it. With his superhearing, it wasn't hard to weed out the people who planned to target you next time. He let everyone see what would happen to them if they tried.

He took his time with the executions, like he should have back at the base. But he'd been so angry then that he didn't even think of enjoying himself. So now he would. He laughed and smirked as people began to cry, reminding them how stupid and pathetic they were, what a waste they made by living.

He called out to the crowd that he forced to watch, declaring how it'd be them next. Breaking limbs so they couldn't resist, cutting and gouging enough for them to survive but for it to also be painful, beating them within an inch of their life but careful enough so they wouldn't fall unconscious.

Then he'd look back up to his throne, where you sat all safe and sound, waiting for your verdict. The torture didn't stop till you said so, till you gave him the thumbs down to rip off their heads.

The people had to clean up the mess when it was done, friends and family forced to scoop up the mushy remains of their loved ones and toss them out.

At the end of the day, you and Mark would fall into your bed. His head on your chest, memorizing the pattern of your heart. Your hand in his slip of hair, murmuring how sweet it was for him to protect you like that. Planning how tomorrow would go, assuring each other that you loved the other so much.

You were okay ending up like this. Being feared.

You were okay finding yourself on this side of the war. Seen as a villain.

You were okay being deemed gone. Lost. Insane. People had ignored it, you were given the chance to embrace it.

If it meant you were with Mark who didn't care about any of that, then you'd be okay.

You wouldn't have been able to be yourself if he wasn't around.

So you want to stay like this. Want to wreak havoc as day breaks. Want to kiss him amidst the screams. Want to lay at his side as night falls.

You want to be with Mark even if it meant being around no one else anymore.

And Mark was going to make sure that was gonna happen.

[hyunjinsjeans]

He Knows (Changbin ver.)

Chan ver. | Lee Know ver. | Hyunjin ver.

MASTERLIST

Synopsis: you already have a baby, but maybe you are ready for baby number two… it might be that your husband is not as ready.

Type: Fluff 🧸, a little bit of angst at the end if you squint ❤️‍🩹, SFW 👍

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy

Word Count: 2110

AN: this one is a little more on the angsty side. I hope it is cool with y’all! It seems the word count keeps coming up, so uh, sorry about that. I hope you enjoy!

You knew Changbin was not one to make rash decisions. In fact, it took you almost two years to start dating officially, and it was in part because you warned him either he gave you a label or he could lose your number. 

He did not like the idea of losing you for a second. Which is how he learned to pay a little less attention to his rational side and allowed himself to go by feelings when it came to the two of you. He was smart anyway, there was no need to overthink things. 

To everyone’s surprise you were the first couple in his group to get engaged, then married and a little under 2 years ago welcomed a baby girl who stole the show anywhere she went. Hajoon, was the name you came to pick together, meaning summer, she was your little ray of sunshine from the moment you first knew of her existence when you were only 6 months into married life. Changbin had gone into a short panic at first but he recovered quite smoothly and in true Seo Changbin fashion he stepped into his role as if he had been doing it all his life. You had been scared all throughout the pregnancy, not having planned for it and finding yourself struggling with morning sickness while he was away in America promoting with the boys. Giving birth made you anxious enough you actually started working out more than your husband, taking all the yoga classes you could handle and signing up for as many pre-natal pilates as possible. One would think you were never going to want to have a baby again. 

And one would be wrong. 

You were at peace with your small family of three until you started taking Hajoon to daycare. She was a happy little girl, knowing little more than her family and uncles. Following her father around as much as possible, she started dancing almost as quickly as she started walking and her speaking was coming along better than expected according to your in-laws. Most likely thanks to Changbin’s silly rap battles with his baby girl. No one year old could compete with his speed, but Hajoon would be damned if she didn’t try.

“No, no; she has a good rhythm!” Changbin always defended his daughter. 

And the fact was, Hajoon loved to play with her daddy, with her uncles… but most of all she loved playing with her daycare buddies. You could see how happy she was in the morning when you went to wake her up, get her dressed and bring her to the kitchen to have breakfast with Changbin. Yes, she was a daddy’s girl through and through (and Changbin was lost in that girl dad daze, wrapped around her miniscule finger from day one). But she would let go of her appa the instant you mentioned daycare. And upon seeing her little friends, she would forget all about how comfortable and warm your embrace was. 

Sometimes you stayed long enough to watch her find her friends, a couple of boys around her same age and a girl a little bit older. 

You couldn’t help it, in your heart you craved to give her the possibility of a friend to play with at all times. Someone to share all those toys you asked the boys not to get her but somehow still made it into Hajoon’s tiny backpack whenever you would hang out.  You wanted her to have what Changbin had with his sister. And your husband’s behavior upon finishing promotions for the last mini album did not do anything other than add fuel to the fire. 

Changin was not stupid (no matter what Seungmin’s opinion on the matter could be), he could tell when something was going on around him. He knew you were being “strange”. Quiet. 

If he knew one thing about you, it was that you were never quiet. Even when you were thinking things over, you reasoned out loud with yourself. You were never one to stay still for too long either. You were more obvious than you would ever like to admit. 

Chanbin was absolutely in love with you before Hajoon, but after she was born it was like the entire world revolved around the two of you, himself included. Which is why he was so aware of every detail in your life. How you still laid your hand in the middle of the bed between the two of you, as if your baby girl was still sleeping there as she had the first few months of her life. He knew you still used those baby oils on your daughter, refusing to move on from the baby scent. Changbin could also see how your eyes lit up at the sight of your daughter pressing her ear to Lee Know’s wife’s growing belly. 

Oh, if he could he would give you a baby right there and then. But he was so busy with work these days. 

Changbin arrived home under a light rain, his feet causing the water on the ground to fly around in small drops. He looked up under his umbrella to see you through the window, most likely making cookies in the kitchen with Hajoon as your helper. You two loved to play cooks. He loved to play the faithful customer. 

A smile spread across his face when he heard the loud giggles erupt from the home, you yelled in surprise while a joyful high pitched voice announced “more choco-ate!” 

Changbin knew your little one was a chocolate enthusiast. On that note he decided to come in, leaving his dirty boots on the entryway before calling for his family. 

“I’m home!” He put his jacket away. 

“Now, don’t run Joonie!” You advised from the kitchen. 

The sound of light feet quickly tapping on the floor was a clear indication that your advice was not taken. 

“Appaaaaa!” 

Changbin knelt to catch the fast approaching girl, her pigtails flying in the air while she ran with her arms open wide. She had no doubt he would catch her so she threw herself at him and got held against her dad’s strong chest, her cheek pressed happily onto his shirt. 

“There’s my princess!” He kissed the top of her head repeatedly as she giggled in his arms. “Where’s your mother, huh?”

As if you heard him, you stepped out of the kitchen. He lifted his gaze before picking up his daughter and going up to you, giving your cheek a gentle kiss. 

“What are you two up to?” He looked you up and down. 

You tilted your head to the side with a small smile on your face, you fixed Hajoon’s shirt that had ridden up her back and let your daughter explain. 

“Cookies”, she whispered into his ear. 

Changbin didn’t even flinch at the warm air his daughter blew straight into his ear. 

You asked him how things had gone at the studio and he sighed in response, not wanting to say too much. He had been working on a few songs with Chan and Han for over a week, some were good and ready to go. Others were still works in progress. It seemed like they would have more than enough material for their next album, but he knew it was all a lot more work to get done. And just before his baby girl’s second birthday. 

Although Changbin was keeping it to himself, he was overwhelmed. Still, you could tell. 

The sweet smell of the cookies flooded the house even a few hours after you had all eaten dinner. Giving Changbin the chance to unwind, you let him and Hajoon play in the living room while you cleaned up the kitchen. The sound of the tv and some of the girl’s toys resonated through the house along with their loud laughter.

Soon enough you walked into the living room to find Changbin snoozing on the sofa with Hajoon cuddled up to his chest, head nestled in the space between his neck and shoulder. You knew you already had many photos like this, but still pulled your phone out of your pant’s pocket and took the picture. 

“I’m not really asleep, you know?” Your husband’s voice startled you. 

“Oh,” you jumped to put your phone away. “Do you need help with the little one?”

He shook his head slowly, pointing for you to sit next to him.

You turned the tv down as you went to take a seat next to him, his free arm reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers. 

“We need to talk,” he mumbled. 

You looked back into his eyes. He was tired from the long day at work, you sighed and wondered what he wanted to talk about so you nodded and watched your daughter’s peaceful face. She was sound asleep, exhausted by the afternoon walk and the subsequent baking session. 

“What is it?” You turned in your seat to face him more. 

Changbin let out a heavy sigh, he did not like that he needed to bring it up but he could not have you hoping he would catch on to you and go along with it. 

“You know I love you,” he wasn’t asking but you nodded at his words, “and I love Joonie, you two mean so much to me…” 

He closed his eyes and you tugged on his hand, speaking as well. Encouraging your husband. Maybe the two of you knew where this conversation was going, reading each other in a heartbeat. 

“Oh, Binnie, we love you too. What do you need to say?”

Here came the difficult words: “Next year is going to be busy. I won’t be home a lot.” He opened his eyes and searched your face for a reaction. 

You opened your mouth to speak a couple of times but weren’t able to say anything. To be honest, you saw this coming. It did not make it any easier to accept what was being said between the lines. 

Changbin felt guilty when you looked away, there was a smile on your lips that was unable to reach any other feature on your face. 

“It’s only a year,” he tugged at your hand. 

You blinked at that and took in a deep breath. “Is there another world tour?”

“Yeah, we’re so excited but… I wouldn’t be able to leave you with this little monkey and another one on the way.”

There it was. Your head snapped in his direction, unable to play fool and tiptoe around the topic any longer. 

“I’m not saying I want one right now. You are busy, you’re tired. I just think we should plan it soon. I don’t want Hajoon to have a big age gap with her siblings.”

You leaned back on the sofa and put your head on his shoulder, watching your daughter sleep. Allowing Changbin’s warmth to comfort you from the disappointment of hearing him put your wish to have another baby on the waiting list.

Changbin let go of your hand and wrapped his arm around you. At least you were on the same page. “We can try for next year. With luck I won’t get completely outnumbered by girls.”

You bit back your laughter as you rested your hand on his stomach. “Oh, but you’re such a good girl dad!” 

“It’s only easy because Hajoon is a mini-you. And a rockstar really… more than me.” 

You giggled. 

“She is a mini-you, what are you talking about?” You caressed your little girl’s chubby cheek. 

She has the same face shape as her dad, her cheeks round and pink, her lips small and heart shaped.

“Actually, maybe I want an army of mini-you’s…” he let his fingers run along your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, “I can’t make any promises about gender, but I definitely want to have another one.”

Changbin agreed and kissed your hair, “I’m sorry it’s not what you wanted. I would love to do it right now, but I would feel like crap knocking you up and then leaving the country. I will be here with you when we do it again.” He pressed his cheek to the top of your head. “I promise.” 

You tilted your head back and kissed his jaw, then his cheek and when he turned to you, you pressed a short kiss to his lips. 

“I’m not mad. You don’t have to explain anything to me, I get it. And you’re right, this is the best way to do it. Together.”

“Since you like the idea, you could kiss me again, you know?” He proposed, bringing up the mood again.

————

Likes, Reblogs and Comments are welcome! Thank you for reading!

[itstheghostofmypast]

Loyalties -Sequel

Matz AU Kim HongJoong x (f) Detective Reader

Summary: It was time to end it all, even if it meant he'd have to use himself to cushion her fall.

Genre: Hurt/Ansgt/Comfort

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Sexual Assault, Torture, Abandonment issues, Toxic Family, Joong's a perv (Idk okay), strong language.

Word Count: 6.4K

Read Time: 32 min

Rating: NSFW

Networks: @k-labels

Part: 1

"Hey there sunshine." He smiled at her, much like how the angel of death would whilst helping a wounded, dying puppy- she was no dying puppy- right? A groan escaped her chapped lips as she tried to sit up, only for a sharp pain to shoot up her abdomen as he gently pushed her back to lay down, coaxing her to relax, "Don't move...like that okay...just lay down-"

"O-oh god! Am I bleeding!?" She hissed, whimpering when she felt him press her hand on that one aching point- what the hell had happened!?  Joongie? Where was- why was she here? What happened!? Why was he doing this!? Where was Hongjoong? 

"Where am I? Who did this!? What did you do!?" She spat, squinting at the bright light above her, trying to cover her eyes with her hand only for her to realise that she was cuffed to the cold table she was lying on- that was all it took for the panic to settle in, tears pooling her eyes, her breath hitching as she began to struggle against her restraints, only to whimper when he pressed onto the wound, the crimson coating her shirt. 

His eyes flickered up to her face, the ear-piercing shriek that echoed in the dimly lit room was replaced by a cry, begging as she called him out, "H-hwa stop- stop!" The heel of his palm pressed against the gash, watching her bleed out, silently staring at her face with an expression so cold, an expression she had never seen before, was this what he looked like while taking a life?

“Hwa…” she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper, like the whistle of a timid wind. “It's me. Hwa…please stop.”

"Aww...I'm sorry angel." He cooed, pulling his hand back, wiping the blood off his fingers with a wet rag, clicking his tongue at the staining, "You really did cause some serious damage this time, angel." The new nickname only added to the blanket of anxiety that had begun to choke her.

"What do you mean?" Kicking her legs, she tried to move, only to let out an exhausted sigh, head thumping against the table when she couldn't move her arms, slowly blinking up, at the light. Talk to him, maybe if she talks to him, he'll stop. Yeah, Hwa was always the rational one of the two.

"How much do you remember?”

She frowned at his question, closing her eyes for a second to think about what he had asked, she really couldn't remember much. She hadn't seen either of them for over six months. The last thing she remembered was waking up in the middle of the night to Hongjoong whispering in her ear, “Doll, I gotta go, stay out of trouble,” before he kissed her one last time, quicker than she could react and before she knew it he was gone. In the morning she woke up assuming it was a dream, but the rose on her nightstand was a clear sign of her love departing for God knows how long. 

The duration of his absence had been rough, especially because her Sergeant had assigned a new supervisor for her and Jongho. That man had been the bane of her existence, not only was he misogynistic but he was a flirt too, and it disturbed her beyond recognition that she had to endure the nonsense of this system during the day and had to return to an empty apartment at night. The only reason she had been expecting to see him last night was because it was their anniversary, no, the two weren't married but they were a couple- even if secret- and he'd never missed any of these things before; anniversaries, birthdays, holidays- so she really did expect to see him there,  or at least something that he had dropped by. Once she had arrived home, she had realised that someone had broken into her apartment, going through her things and his things, with their belongings scattered everywhere, bookshelf on the floor, sofa cut up with its cotton everywhere- she had run to their bedroom to find it upside down, only to turn around and feel a sharp pain in her side before blacking out.

“My…apartment was all busted up.” She sighed, blankly at the light hanging above her, clearing her throat to push back the nausea, “I…I don't know…Hwa where's Joongie?” 

A scoff echoed in the damp air, her eyes closing at the silence that greeted her, the smell of iron intoxicating her as she whispered, “Hwa…please…don't do this. I didn't do anything…I swear…”

Seonghwa ignored her whining, too focused on cleaning the utensils, Yeosang had strictly instructed him to ensure that all the tools were sterilised properly. He glanced in her direction, watching her slowly lose consciousness, “You know,” his deep voice jerked her awake, causing her to pointlessly struggle against the restraints, “I really was surprised when he told me you confessed to him.” His voice grew louder and colder as he approached closer, she felt his slender cold fingers grip her wrist, “Don't move…it'll only hurt you more, angel.”

“Hwa-” her eyes widened at the sight of the injection that glimmered in his other hand, “Hwa don't- please- please it's me, ladybug! Your ladybug-hwa!” Her shrieks and sobs bounced off the walls of wherever she was, the darkness around her had her nerves going into overdrive as she struggled against him, kicking the table under her, begging him to stop, to come to his senses, her voice choked off when he gripped her throat, letting go of her wrist as his fingers dug into the warm, sweaty skin, “Shut up. You're so damn annoying”, Seonghwa growled, leaning closer to her face, eying the way her mascara was dripping down her cheeks, “You really think he loved you? Do you really think we cared about you? He's been using you-  truthfully he wanted to get rid of you the moment you confessed to him, but I told him not to, using you would be a great way to gain intel.”

Her eyes widened in horror as his words began to process, her resistance slowly depleting when she felt him squeeze harder, “How could he love someone whose own parents didn't love her, huh? Have you forgotten about your past? You were nothing more than forgotten filth abandoned by your own parents.”

He moved back, tossing the empty injection somewhere as he watched her body slowly tremor, a silent cry escaping her as he watched her gasping for air, trying to breathe, watching the effect of the serum take over her before he walked towards the camera at the other end, leaning closer to the lense he smiled, “Hope you liked the show, I believe I'll enjoy more when I take your new Sergeant, and send you another clip.” Tapping the screen he turned around and aimlessly stared at the room before his blank eyes landed on her limp body, eying the way her blood hand pooled on the ground before they flickered up to her still form, what a waste.

.

You sighed, before sitting up straight, stretching your arms over your head, and blinking at the empty classroom, this was one long break. With a soft sigh, you reached for your lunch box and decided to go eat in the storage room, barely anyone ever went there. Or so you thought, for the moment you had stepped into the room you were slammed into the wall next to the door, staring up at your assailant with doubled vision. 

“Ji-ho,” You blinked up at the boy who punched you in the stomach, watching you double over onto your knees, gasping for her, “Did you know what happens to whores who think they're smart enough to beat the system?” the boy sitting on the stool watching this unfold asked the boy who had gripped you by the collar of your shirt, shaking you mercilessly as he pulled you up, “Don't know, Si-woo, do you think they get beat up?”

“Aw, that's no fun~” Your eyes trailed over to the other side, Mina, this girl had been coming at you since the moment you had stepped into this school, lord knows how you didn't know the level of petty rich kids could be. This girl was pretty, rich, popular and smart, well, somewhat smart, yet, here she was busy using her two goons to ruin your day.

“I heard you can do whatever you want to them and no one says anything,” her giggle had you gulping, fist clenching by reflex, “How about you show her what she'll grow up to be useful for, Ji-ho.”

The second her words had left her lips you felt the bastard feel you up, only to press you against the wall when his lips met yours, though unfortunately for him, soon after your fist collided with his cheek, causing him to stumble back as you spat and wiped your lips, staring at them wide-eyed, “H-have you lost your mind!?” You screamed, only to gasp in pain at the sting of your cheek, causing you to fall.

“Bitch.” He hissed above you before kicking you, as you wheezed for air, trying to crawl away when someone grabbed you by your hair, pulling you up enough to meet the eyes of your menace who was pouting at you, “Now didn't your mommy tell you nobody likes a bad girl?” Mina sneered only to slam your head into the shelf, watching you fall back onto the ground with a whimper. You gasped for air, whimpering at every harsh kick, begging them to stop as the world around you began to spin, wishing they would just kill you already, better dead than in this agony, slowly going numb, their voices muffling as the world around you slowly darkened to a cold void.

.

Slowly the world around you came to life, the soft hum of the air conditioner lulling you out of your sleep as you rubbed your eyes, trying to sit up, only to let out a soft whimper in the process, your eyes watering at the sight of the bruises on yours arms, did they- did they do it!? Did they taint you!? How could-

The rustle of the curtain caught you off guard as you gasped in fear, covering your face with your arms to protect yourself, in pure reflex.

“You got a name, doll?”

You slowly moved your arms to stare at the ugliest mullet known to man, he was blonde too? You blinked at the boy with the bandaid on his eyebrow, his piercings scaring you more than his uncannily perfect set of pearly teeth- He looked like a pirate, he looked like bad news.

“Can you not harass her, moron?”

The blonde turned to frown at the lad whose voice rumbled like the mighty dragon, you glanced at him, sitting on the stool, a bruise blossoming near his eye and a cut on his lip. Never had you seen someone so pretty, yet hauntingly rigid in persona. You knew him, well, you knew both of them by name-

“Last time I checked, asking for someone's name was considered civil.”

“Wanna get punched again!?”

“Sure thing teacher's pet- hey-hey, what's the matter doll? Don't cry!”

You flinched at the pitch of their voices, and for some reason, you had covered your ears to tune out the loud noise that had begun to muffle out because of your own sobs.

Hongjoong had quietly blinked at you, a sad pout adorning his sharp pretty features as he raised a hand, causing you to flinch, only to tremor at the feeling of his palm on top of your crown, gently rubbing your scalp, “Don't cry doll, we won't hurt ya…they won't either…”

Though your sobs had died down to mere sniffles and hiccups by the time the boy on the chair next to your stretcher was done with his story, telling you how he had seen you getting the “daylights beaten” out of you. He had decided to step in and “break some bones” but the “ugly tattletale” (Park Seonghwa was anything but ugly) had run to tell on them, and to the financially blessed, good-looking scholarship student's surprise, his teachers had done nothing but let the bullies go with a mere slap on the wrist.

“Of course, they didn't do anything! A p*ssy like you wasted time going to them! Look at how they whacked dolly up during that time!” Joong spat, gently gripping your chin and tilting your head up to face him as he smiled gently, “You gotta stop crying like that…they didn't do anything else to ya.”

“R-really?”

Seonghwa felt his insides churn with guilt at that. Not only had he watched you get beat up, but his delay could have led to something worse-

“Really, now if ya stop snotting around, I'd get ya a cupcake, ya hungry?”

A low growl echoed in the small infirmary,  but it didn't come out of you, but from behind Hongjoong. However, it was your nod that had the blonde run out of the infirmary at the speed of light, leaving you and Park Seonghwa alone. You dared not to look at him, that is until you heard a deep, “I'm sorry I didn't intervene sooner.”

“You don't need to, I deserved it.”

The words left you quicker than you think, instantly regretting it, only to flinch when he scoffed, “Why? Cause you are going against the system by coming here?” Your meek nod had him exhale loudly through his nostrils before mumbling, “Do you know why ladybugs are called ladybugs?”

You shook your head as you stared at him lean against the wall, sitting on the metal stool, his head tilted upwards as he closed his eyes, giving you a very pleasant view, and it gave you time to inspect the damage. No wonder people feared Kim Hongjoong, he may look like a small cute boy, but he fought like an angry chihuahua, only more graceful. You swore you had seen him flying once, but it was only a jump kick where he added a majestic twirl before breaking a jaw. Luckily,  Park Seonghwa only suffered from a bruised face, a busted lip and a sprained finger.

“I went easy on him.” 

You blinked at him before your face flushed and you glanced at your lap mumbling, “Sorry…for staring.”

“It's fine…The term "ladybug" has its roots in European folklore. Farmers would invoke the protection of the Virgin Mary to safeguard their crops from pests. When ladybugs arrived, devouring the harmful insects, farmers began calling them "Lady beetles" in honour of Mary,” He glanced at you and gave you a soft smile, “ Since then, ladybugs have been cherished by farmers as beneficial guardians of their crops, they go against their own kind to protect the innocent.”

“Am I the next Virgin Mary?”

Seonghwa felt his eyebrow twitch at your question, about to retort when someone cut him off,

“VIRGIN? Nah doll, don't worry doll, I'll help you out with that.” 

“I'm not gonna lose my virginity to you!”

“Don’t worry doll, I’d lose mine to ya.”

“Y-you're a virgin?”

“Naturally, don't want to be a baby daddy just yet.”

Idiots, he was communicating with idiots. He watched as Hongjoong swayed his way into the infirmary with a feline-like smirk as he leaned closer to you, gently bumping his forehead against yours, “Silly girl.”

With a scoff you pulled away, ignoring the cupcake he had set in your palm, only to side-eye him, though your little display did not show any effect, perhaps because the two were at it again. Hongjoong had tossed a cupcake to the other boy who gasped, “It's half eaten.”

“Too bad, teacher's pet.”

“One day Kim Hongjoong-”

“Why did you two fight?” 

Your question caught the two off guard, well, one more than the other, because the blonde had turned around with the nastiest smirk you had ever seen, while the other ducked his head in shame, “Taught him a lesson for interfering, his nonsense belief in the system almost got ya killed.”

“I..apologised for that.”

“If you remember you had a bullet left after a war, you should just use it to kill yourself.”

“You two…shouldn't fight.”

That ironically was all it took for their argument to subside, as the taller male rolled his stool towards you and the blonde had sat on your bed by your legs, going on and on about some big plans of his, about taking down the corrupt, while you dosed off to the sound of their nonsense. Ironically an odd friendship had begun to blossom that day. A friendship that went into full bloom eventually.

.

Squinting at the bright light, you slowly slid up and sighed, only to blink at the empty classroom, and then glance at the clock. It was 2pm, and it was your duty after class to clean, well, better get to it.

Truthfully, you had been feeling a bit better for the past few weeks, Mina and her goons had been avoiding you, Seonghwa had been spending his break with you often, and for some reason you had, a lot of Hongjoong popping up around you, here and there. You seemed to somewhat wait for those moments, for that loud boy to appear, mumbling and dragging his words, yapping around you, helping you in the cafeteria while you cleaned the dishes,

“They let ya take some food home if ya do the dishes, doll!?”

“The lunch lady sometimes lets me take the leftovers…I can save money that way.”

He’d be yapping while you were tending to the school garden,

“Dolly, do they pay ya to water the plants?!”

“It's after school, I work as a temporary gardener, that's why they pay sometimes.”

And of course, the walk back to your house, you lived alone now, since you had moved out of the orphanage when your grandmother had come to collect you. Turns out she just needed an extra labourer,  but since she was probably rotting in hell now, you had the old, musty house to yourself. The same house Hongjoon would drop you at each day, the same house he shamelessly invited himself in, the same house he had brought Park Seonghwa to and you two had realised the pretty boy was a neat freak when he had begun to brush your tiles. Nonetheless, somehow you had ended up connecting with both boys, especially the one who chopped off his mullet and had dyed his hair black, demanding that now you let him kiss you since YOU hated the mullet. Though all he had received was a small peck on the cheek when he had dropped you home that evening- and he took it with pride.

The past few weeks had perhaps been the best days of your life, and nothing was going to ruin it- or so you thought because as soon as you were done cleaning, you were slammed into the board, staring in fear at Ji-ho who was glaring at you with an unsettling look in his eyes, his friends by the door making sure to keep watch, “Actions have consequences bitch.”

The last thing you saw was the cutter coming at your face, your eyes clenching shut as you fisted the material of your skirt, waiting for the excruciating pain- only it never came, instead, your eyes opened to a familiar voice, “That's funny, I was about to say the same-”

A loud snap caught all of you off guard, your eyes quickly darting to Hongjoong and then his hand that was gripping onto the moron's wrist, before he whispered at you, “Did I…do that?”

“No.” The two of you turned your heads when a wailing scream followed, eying the boy who was on the ground screaming in pain, clutching his arm close to himself as you withered in pain, “That one was all me.” Seonghwa mumbled, walking towards you before Mina stood in the way, “Yah! Park Seonghwa, have you lost your mind-” Her head was slammed into the nearest wall, his fingers digging into the side of her scalp watching her struggle against his grip, twisting his fingers in her hair to grip tighter and pull her back before repeating the process, something had broken in Seonghwa that day, something that Hongjoong understood all too well.

Hongjoong turned to whistle at you, gaining your attention as you turned to look at him with trembling eyes, only to receive the sweetest smile, trying to ignore the way he was pulling the boy’s arm backwards, his scream growing louder by the second “Close your eyes for me, would ya doll?” That was all it took before you clenched your eyes shut and covered your ears.

.

“Talk to her.”

“I did, but I think she was too lost in pleasure.”

“Hongjoong, shut up man. I swear to God.”

“What? The most intimate conversations happen during sex scenes in shows too-”

Your eyes snapped open at that, glaring up at the jaw of your idiotic lover, ready to smack him, though your movement had caught his attention for he had glanced down in your direction and smirked, waiting for your reaction. If you weren't using his lap as a pillow, you would have kicked him in the nuts.

“Ladybug.” the man greeted, leaning against the tree, “Isn't it an odd time for a picnic, that too in your own backyard?”

“Yes, well, you two seem awfully busy these days,” You mumbled, sitting up lazily, only to lean against Hongjoong who instinctively wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer, “Even expulsion couldn't fix you two.” you referred to the time the two had been expelled after permanently disabling your bullies, although you were grateful, you had not expected them to go overboard.

“Nonsense,” Hongjoong huffed as he manoeuvred you closer, enough to have you sitting against his chest, leaning against him fully as he wrapped his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder as he pressed his cheek against yours, “Now, doll, Hwa and I were just talking about your new genius idea, why do you wanna give up that bakery dream to become a stinkin’ cop?”

“I'm gonna help people.”

Cue the two laughing so hard that you had to shove away your lover and throw an empty bottle of juice at your best friend to shut up, leaving you all flushed and embarrassed.

“I-I’m not kidding Joong, I’m gonna join the academy,  god knows how more people out there suffer. I'm gonna help them all and- and you and Hwa will need eyes on the inside right?”

Hongjoong's smile grew bigger, almost about to split out of his face as he grabbed you tighter before pressing his lips against your warm cheek, “J-Joong!” Ignoring your squeak he looked up at Seonghwa who was now on the ground, back pressed against the tree with an eyebrow raised, “Look at our little ladybug, trying to protect us…”

“Isn't she cute?” He giggled, moving a bit to have you lean against him, chuckling when you mumbled, turning to your side, your head resting against his chest as you closed your eyes when you felt him drape his jacket over your form, covering you from the chill of the night. 

“Guess so,” Seonghwa snorted before flicking his lighter, lighting up the cigarette that was pressed between his plump lips, “She's a true -”

“Passive smoking is a crime.”

He paused at your sleepy mumble before looking up at his partner in crime who shrugged, patting your head in response, “Well, she's as dumb as a cop too.” The last thing you remember was the way the two had begun to discuss a kidnapping of some rich man’s spoiled son, who had trailed off to Hongjoong talking about wooden rulers used as punishment tools back in the day.

.

A sharp gasp followed by your swift movements had the party next to you groan, slowly blinking in the dark, trying to adjust to the lack of lighting, he moved closer trying to reach for you, only to frown when he realised your pillow was empty. 

You sat there in cold sweat, a shivering mess with your head in your hands, the heels of your palms pressed against your eyes as jitters rocked through your petrified form, taking quick shallow breaths. Your entire being jerked at the feeling of his warm hand, feeling him tighten his hold on your arm when you tried to pull away with a scared yelp, meeting his tired expressions with your own sombre look, eyes twinkling with unshed tears.

“What's…wrong, doll?” He whispered, a sense of alertness radiating from his being as he sat up and pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you, his hands pressing against the back of your head as you whimpered against him, clutching onto his shirt for your dear life, as if you were afraid he'd disappear as if your Joongie was no longer there.

“Bad dream, doll?” He whispered before pressing his lips on top of your head, mumbling in your hair as you let out a sob, before it turned into many more, enough to scare him. Having him rub up and down your back in a soothing manner, his atop your head, letting you cry it out.

“Wanna talk about it?” 

Your breath hitched at his question, wrinkling the material of his pressed pyjama shirt, a privilege only you had, pressing your forehead against his shoulder you mumbled, “I…I was falling Joong…just…it was endless…I just kept falling and falling.”

“Aw, sweets, you don't have to worry about that,” the man cooed, pulling you closer as he kissed the side of your head, feeling you relax in his arms when you hugged him back, holding him closer, sighing in relief when you heard him whisper above you, “I'll always catch ya doll.”

A small smile graced your lips as you snuggled closer to the man, about to mumble how much you loved him before you were cut off with an eerie echo, “I’ll always catch ya…even if I have to cushion your fall with my dead body, doll.” His grip began to tighten around you, crushing you in his embrace, cackling at your pleas to let go, as the words began to get louder and louder, “Even when I'm dead.”

“I'll let ya use me till the end.”

.

Seonghwa jerked awake at the scream, setting in action, pouncing in her direction, eyes frantically searching for the frail form of the woman he had very much traumatised. Upon closer inspection he saw the lump moving around in the many layers of blankets and quilts Yeosang had placed upon her, after scolding him for allowing so much blood loss “You two never have any self-control.”

His fingers gripped the covers before ripping them off her, eyes meeting her terror-filled gaze, crystal droplets clinging to her bottom lashes as she whimpered at the sight of him, slowly crawling back till her back pressed against the headboard of the bed, whispering, “S-stay back.”

Seonghwa took a deep breath at the reaction, honestly, she was responding better than he had expected, but then again, she was their ladybug, ever resilient and strong. He noticed how her eyes were scanning the room in haste, looking for something to defend herself with, which let him clear his throat and raise his hands in the air, empty palms facing her, “I won't hurt you.” He took a step closer only to freeze at her tone 

“STAY AWAY FROM ME!” she screeched, grabbing a pillow as if it could protect her from the tall man. 

“I'm…I’m not gonna hurt you, ladybug.” He moved closer only for her to throw the pillow and scream, again, “WHERE'S HONGJOONG? WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER ANYTHING!? -”

Her breath hitched when she noticed his eyes cast down, lip twitching into a frown as he sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands as he whispered, “I-I'm sorry….ladybug…I…I had to do it…I had to make them believe this was real…I…I know I hurt you, but it's..” he whispers clenching his eyes shut, “It's what he wanted…it was in his will…I read it myself when Mingi brought it to me-”

“S-shut up- no-” her breath hitched, pushing off the quilt to jump off the bed only to trip and fall, wincing at the way her knees hit the ground, a sharp gasp escaping her at the pain, doubling over to hold her side.

“Ladybug, please.” Seonghwa whispered, slowly helping her back up on the bed, his firm tightening when she began to struggle against him, “Please,  please listen to me, I swear I won't hurt you again-”

“H-Hongjoong!” she cried out, only for him to hug her close, feeling her shiver in his hold, his grip tightening on her.

“You were being trailed by your Sergeant,” Seonghwa gently mumbled, trying to process thoughts to be able to word them better. “We received a video of Jongho, they were torturing him, I…I don't know how much information they were able to get out of him but they said you were next,” he felt your hold on him tighten, “I told Hongjoong, I told him to let me go after Jongho- he was supposed to go to you, he should've gone to you but he didn't listen-”

She pushed him away and gripped him by the collar, a sudden wave of adrenaline shooting through her veins, hissing at him, “What the f*ck are you on about!?”

“L-ladybug,” his words cracked, head dipping in shame as he placed his hands on hers, “He went to the given address to save Jongho, only they ambushed him- I've lost visual and audio contact, Wooyoung and Yunho can't trace him or Jongho- San, San went to check it all out himself but the warehouse blew up minutes before he reached it- even after the fire died out…we…”

Her glare hardened when the two made eye contact, but she let go of him, only for him to let out a whimper, standing up beside her as he stared at her with a tear-stained face, “I'm sorry…ladybug- I- I had to protect you, Joong wanted me to do this- I- this is all my fault.”

The gravity of the situation only began to process when she watched him bow a perfect 90 degrees, his sobs coming out in mere chokes as he sniffed, wiping his face with his sleeve, looking down at her with guilt-ridden eyes, his final words settling in as the harsh reality hit her, “Joong's gone, ladybug.”

Seonghwa had no idea how to calm her down, for the moment these words had left him, her little whimper had turned into wailing, screams of her pain having him hold her close, trying to calm her down as her whole body shivered in pain and agony,  gasping for air every few seconds. She clung onto him, slowly falling apart, unimaginable pangs of grief striking her heart as she choked on her own sobs, unsure of what to do next-

“Get off my girl, ya creep.” 

Seonghwa gasped at the feeling of being tugged away, landing on the ground with a thumb as he blinked through the tears, a familiar figure looming closer to the sobbing girl, her face buried in her hands, too lost in pain to realise who was standing in front of her.

Hongjoong clicked his tongue, frowning at the way his doll was in shambles, the bruises on her arms, just adding to his displeasure. Moving closer he pulled her hands off her face, catching her completely off guard as she stared up at him with doe eyes of disbelief, her lower lip quivering at the way he smiled at her, “Man, this f*cker really did a number on ya, my pretty dolly.” with a pout he turned around and glared at the man, his hand gently wrapped around her wrist as he spat at his friend, “Don't ya think you went a bit overboard-”

“OH F*CK YOU!”

The shorter man fell to the side with a groan, landing on her lap as he whined, glancing up at his doll with a busted lip, “He punched me! My love, he punched your Joongie- hey- hey!” At the sight of your tears returning he instantly sat up, hugging you close, letting you mess up his favourite jacket with your tears and snot, tugging at the material like you wanted to pull him even closer if possible, never wanting to let him go again.

With a sigh he rubbed her back soothingly, mumbling how it was all going to be okay, “You don't gotta do nothing like that no more, doll, I promise…I sorted it all out.” He whispered, slowly rocking them back and forth.

“What happened?” Seonghwa asked, now sitting on the chair next to the bed, staring at his partner, unsure of his entire existence at this point, “I-I went a - I had to make it look convincing-”

“I know Seonghwa,” the captain of MATZ turned to give him a small smile, even if he was still preoccupied with calming down his favourite girl, “I figured it was a trap, got Jongho out before sending them down to hell-”

“The place exploded?!”

“Yeah, I may have had a wee bit too much fun with the experimental explosives Woo had given me.”

“Dude.”

“What can I say? I'm a child at heart.”

“You're a f*cker, through and through Hongjoo-”

Hongjoong ignored him, tuning him out when she whispered out his name, gently calling him out, staring up at him with pure adoration and aw, enough to have the man lose all self-control, choosing to kiss her right there and then, smiling against her lips when she squeaked in surprise. Her grip on him tightened when he began to enjoy a bit too much, hyper-aware of how another person was in the room, trying to push him off gently only for him to deepen the kiss.

“She has stitches, you pervert.” Park Seonghwa who had looked away mumbled, ignoring the way the man who pulled away had cackled, of course, he'd do this to him. 

“A c*ckblock you shall remain Park Seonghwa,” He mumbled as he helped her lay back down, smiling at the way she was covering her face in embarrassment,  “Don't worry doll, you're safe now.” He whispered, peeling her hands off her face as he gave her an assuring smile, “Rest now…tomorrow we start a new day.”

She was about to ask what he meant but the slight weight of something on her ring finger had her stare at him in surprise before bringing her hand up to her face, staring at the twinkling diamond, too in awe to say anything. 

Seonghwa shook his head in amusement, he knew the moron was going to propose to her, but he had assumed the Hongjoong, for once would keep the concept of ‘time and place’ in mind- unfortunately, he had forgotten then this man was basically brain dead and would run on pure adrenaline and caffeine. 

“Where's Jongho?” Seonghwa asked out of the blue, wanting answers.

“Resting, Yeo treated him, that's why I was late.” Hongjoong sighed, glancing at her, she was facing the other way, still staring at the ring on her finger, a small smile gracing his lips as he sat down on the bed, his back gently resting against hers, making sure not to put too much pressure against her as he stared at Seonghwa, “Did you send the video?”

“Yeah…” nodded as he pulled out a USB from his pocket, “I…you can watch it…I…I’m sorry in advance-”

“Did you -at any point- think she was in on it?”

His question caught Seonghwa off guard, eyes quickly darting to the figure laying behind Hongjoong, her calm stature and shallow breathing indicating that she had finally fallen asleep, before flickering back up to the face of his partner, swallowing at the thought of how the man would react once he'd answered him.

“Yes.”

“You and I both know she isn't…,” He paused only to stand up and gently lay her on her back, smiling at her sleeping form as he covered her with the blanket, making sure she was warm and tucked in well.

“But what if she was?” At this point, he knew he was just asking this to make sense of his lapse of judgment about one of his closest friends, a friend he had sworn to protect. He stared at the way his partner in crime gently stroked her bruised cheek. Hongjoong was a different man when she was involved, he'd either be very passive or he'd be ready to burn down everything- he'd go into self-destruction mode. That is why when they received the video he had begged the man to go to his girlfriend, but all he got in response was a maniacal look with a, “Whatever happens Hwa, make sure my precious doll ends up living a life she deserves.”

He was glad it had not come to that, truthfully, he was grateful that his best friend was alive and well. He had questions, he really did, how had he managed to escape? How did he manage to pull this off? What was their next step, at the moment, he believed giving the two space would be better, giving them a day or two to heal, for him to properly talk to her, and for her to mentally and physically get better. In a day or two, he would formally apologise to her once more, knowing she would forgive him easily, he was her ‘Hwa’, and that apparently was the only quality he needed to be forgiven. He nodded to himself, before walking towards the door, not bothered about never receiving an answer to his question, there was no reason to doubt her anyway, Hongjoong was a smart man, he would never ruin his future plans for his burning passion and want for her, just to keep her happy-

“Then I'd let her use my body to cushion her fall.” 

Seonghwa, who by now was at the door, about to leave, froze, slowly turning in place to look at the man who was staring at no one else but the sleeping woman, gently stroking her hair as he mumbled again,

“I'll burn in flames just to keep ya warm, doll, don't you forget that…Joongie won't let anyone…hurt you again.”

As Seonghwa closed the door he had come to an unsettling conclusion, sparing one last glance at the couple before walking away, thinking to himself. They were working to fix this broken system, and while Seonghwa, and perhaps the rest of the gang, wanted to make the world a better place for everyone, for Kim Hongjoong, their leader whom they'd die for, the world was supposed to be a better place for his doll, and if he was unable to make that a reality, Seonghwa knew for a fact that the psycho would set it ablaze until he could mould from its ashes, a world, where his doll could live as she pleased. This was nothing more than a game, to find the perfect dollhouse, for his perfect doll. 

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | February 10th-16th 2025

Hope you all had a good Valentine's/Pal-entine's Day! Here we got something like 70cm of snow in four days, which is as much snow as we usually get in the whole month of February 😂

Trying a new formatting, let me know what you think!

Complete

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Nightby I_still_dont_understand_13 / @dangerpronebuddie (Prompt collection | 36/? | 23K | Teen): 100 kiss prompts.

37. A kiss on the cheek turns into a kiss on the lips

Will You Be My Valentine? by dylaesthetics (Valentine's Day | 1,7K | Mature):

Buck sends all of his contacts an innocent message asking them to be his (platonic) Valentine.

a glint of you in everything by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S8B, Magical Realism, Getting Together | 3K | Teen):

A year into living in El Paso, Eddie begins to see glimpses of Buck's life when he looks in the mirror.

Buck Naked and Afraid by paleredheadinascifi (Canon Divergent, Sleepwalking | 6K | Teen):

Buck sleeps naked. Buck also sleep-walks. Buck sleep-walks naked out of his apartment and locks himself out. Fate cackles. Enter Eddie Diaz.

best laid plans by coldbam/ @coldbam (Established Buddie, Marriage Proposal | 7K | Mature):

Buck drops the binder onto the kitchen table with an impressive thud. The front is labeled TAX STUFF, 2011-2018 in simple block letters. “You came over to do…secret taxes? In the middle of October?” “Oh, no, that’s—that’s a misdirect. I keep it hidden but just in case anyone’s snooping. Eddie hates doing taxes, and Christopher would think it’s boring adult stuff.” He opens the binder and flips past the first 3 pages which are actual old tax slips to keep up the hoax. He turns it around to show Maddie the page he was looking for: Proposal Ideas * Buck proposes. For real this time. (Part 2 of proposal series)

u/fuckley's Reddit post history. by dylaesthetics (Social Media fic, Getting Together, S2-S8 | 8K | Mature):

r/Relationships u/fuckley • 4 yr. ago 🔞 NSFW HOW DO I STOP HAVING MORNING WOOD WHILE SHARING A BED WITH MY BEST FRIEND??? [URGENT] I don’t know which sub to use for this, but I need immediate help. OR the emotional rollercoaster of Buck’s Reddit posts throughout the history of knowing Eddie.

🔥faded from the winter by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergence, Amputee Buck, Post-Shooting | 10K | Teen):

Eddie struggles to bounce back after the shooting. Buck starts leaving him with his service dog, Cranberry. (Part 4 of 🔥Buck & Cranberry)

Red Sky at Night by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Established Buddie, Future fic | 10K | Teen):

Buck and Eddie's stress levels are put to the test when a series of inconveniences precede Christopher's prom night, and their subsequent wedding.

you cut out a piece of me, now I bleed internally (left here without you) by smilingbuckley/ @smilingbuckley (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Depressed Buck | 11K | Mature):

And Buck is left standing there. In the rain. He stares at where Eddie’s truck used to be, now gone and out of sight. And he stays there for God knows how long, waiting, because maybe Eddie turns back. Maybe Eddie changes his mind and turns around. And he’ll jump out of his truck and laugh at Buck about how he could never leave his home here. How he could never leave Buck. And maybe he’ll pull Buck in one of those dramatic, movie-worthy kisses in the rain. And Christopher decides to come back and they live happily ever after. But this isn’t a fairytale or romcom. This is real life. And Eddie is gone. And he’s not coming back. And Buck… Buck is alone once again. (Or: After Eddie moves to El Paso, Buck copes. Except he doesn't.)

🔥 slaughterhouse by kithmet/ @kithmet (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Kleptomania, Freak4Freak | 21K | Explicit):

Buck keeps him everywhere. He’s smuggling him into every inch left vacant, because like this, he doesn’t lose him, won’t lose him. Like this, he gets to keep Eddie forever, even if it’s just the pieces and the memories attached. The reminder of him will haunt him and this apartment like a ghost. Because Buck can’t trap him in his apartment and force him to stay, he’d never ask that, couldn’t ask that, but he’s going to damn well do his best to salvage it in some form. He’s kidnapping Eddie’s shadow, no matter how much it hurts, and there’s no choice about it. Or: Buck has resolved to be the greatest friend ever. He’s handling this move so well. And not at all being abnormal about Eddie’s house. Or Eddie’s belongings. Or, well. Eddie.

WIP

🔥 Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 15/? | 91K | Explicit):

In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

[orikiys]

🔖 、FAREWELL TO MEMORIES

ᘛ 𓏧     ࣪    𖠵 성훈 ☓ gn!reader. ꔪ ﹏ ᘒ angst implied exes warning nostalgia lots of angst mentions of kissing & 1.3k+ words

The apartment was a picture of chaos with half-packed boxes and disheveled belongings strewn all over the place.

The undeniably strong whiff of change lingered in the atmosphere, dense and overwhelming, and Sunghoon struggled to breathe in it. He stood amidst the scene of chaos, with a defeated expression etched upon his usually composed countenance. The bedroom was nearly empty except for the entirely packed cardboard boxes, ready to be lifted and sent away.

If Sunghoon were to lean in any closer to the labelings on the box, he would find himself staring back at the day it was introduced into his life. He could still hear the chatter from downstairs, could hear Jake’s laughter and Jungwon’s grumbling on yet another unknown topic. One that Sunghoon was not too keen to work out. Especially not today. Jake and Jungwon insisted on being there to help Sunghoon with the boxes but from the noises, that was the last thing they were currently doing.

Just over 20 minutes ago, Sunghoon had to intervene to separate the two of them because Jungwon proclaimed to have had ‘accidentally’ taped Jake’s hair while attempting to tape one of the boxes. In response, Jake had again, totally by ‘accident’ stepped on Jungwon’s toes.

He let his gaze linger longer onto the bedroom and sighed heavily. Sunghoon wasn’t nearly sure what to think of the sight that beheld in front of his eyes. His eyes raked upon one particular box for what seemed like hours yesterday. See, Sunghoon would usually like to call himself calm and collected, someone who is in good control of his own emotions. But he had no control over them the moment his eyes peeped into what the box held.

His fingers traced the white canvas that he took out from the box more gently than he expected. His shaky hands travelled over to the two handprints overlapping in the centre and just like a button, his eyes blurred out of focus as a memory hit him.

It was supposed to be yet another lazy Saturday afternoon, the kind where all you wanted to do was just be on your phone and procrastinate. But you seemed to have different ideas when you walked into the living room with a cheeky smile plastered on your face as you shoved a blank canvas into Sunghoon’s chest followed by two paint colours.

You’d insisted firmly until Sunghoon had no other choice but to give in to your demands. The following minutes passed by a blur when Sunghoon felt the wet semi-liquid swipe across his cheek followed by the sound of a giggle. And so, the paint war began leaving the two of you covered in sticky paint. At least the canvas was not messy.

And then he was met with an aching realisation that no matter how many more canvases he painted, none of them would hold the same beauty, the same meaning and the same art of longing as this one did. All because there wasn’t you right by his side anymore.

A sad smile tugged at the corner of Sunghoon’s lips as he carefully placed the canvas back into the box after wrapping it with a piece of plastic. His hands dug further into that box, despite the drop in his chest after looking at the canvas for mere minutes.

He then reached for a black journal with the title,“But I love you so much more than just to the moon & back”, a choked sound left his throat, something between a sob and chuckle as if he could almost imagine you saying the cheesiest stuff to him on a daily basis.

You had given him the journal after around a year into your relationship, your fingers intertwined with his as the two of you would lay in bed hours long and just flip through each page as if trying to relive another memory. As if that journal could restore the lost time. But of course, it didn’t.

Sunghoon used to see videos of people gifting journals of every single thing to their loved ones and he used to find them a waste of time. That is until you surprised him with one. He didn’t know what to expect when he first looked into the journal, but the last thing he expected was to cry while hugging you. The journal was the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes upon.

Each page was titled differently, from your first kiss to your first-ever make up after the argument. The in-between pages were filled with polaroids of the two of you. He didn’t know how to thank you then because words wouldn’t suffice of the gifts you’ve given him so all he did was love you, maybe a little too much that it hurt even more to let go of that very love.

He also remembered his first kiss with you— very well. He couldn’t ever forget the day. During the kiss, he swore that he could taste the stars in the heavens, and the Earth beneath their feet shivered with the sheet power of pouring out feelings.

That was what it felt like to kiss you. To be able to be called yours.

He remembered when you once said to him, “No matter what happens, we’ll aways stick by each other’s side. Promise?” And he did. He did promise— pinky promise, with a silly smile on his face because he had that much confidence in him to know that the two of you would always be together.

Sunghoon from now would have scolded Sunghoon from then so much for taking every little promise so less of value. But lessons were learnt, tears were shed, sweet whispers turned into yells and hearts were broken too, more than one.

Letting out a deep breath, Sunghoon carefully placed the journal back into the box and wiped his beginning-to-form-tears.

Before he could proceed to dig his hands for anything else, he heard the footsteps stomp their way into the bedroom and stop right beside him.

“It’s time to go come on,” Sunghoon raised his head curiously at the softness of Jake’s tone. Jake stood in front of the bedroom but not quitting entering it. One of his hands was busy with the phone while the other just held a small carry bag.

“Yeah, give me one minute,” Sunghoon mumbled back, quickly moving to gather his own stuff and throwing his backpack over his shoulder. He followed Jake out of the house and watched as a taxi pulled up.

The memories flood back as the car inches forward down the driveway, taking the three of them further and further away from the home he grew up in. Sunghoon looked around at the familiar neighbourhood for what seemed like the last time and he could feel a pang in his chest.

As they pull out of the driveway, Sunghoon can't help but be overcome by nostalgia. He takes one last look at the house, feeling like part of it is being ripped away from him. The memories come flooding back, vivid and real, leaving him feeling disconnected from reality for a moment. He closes his eyes, trying to hold on to the feeling, but it slips away, leaving him with only the comfort of the memories.

“I can’t believe I would ever see the daylight and Sunghoon crying together!” Jungwon exclaimed as he looked at Sunghoon from the passenger seat. The said guy lets out a surprised laugh at that and shakes his head in denial, “I’m not crying.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Jake joins in on the Sunghoon teasing club making him huff.

“But hey, you’ll at least have us, yeah?” Jake reassures with a smile as he pats Sunghoon on the shoulder.

Right, that’s true. He’ll always have them to fill in the holes in his heart.

[damianbugs]

(comic references under cut)

a personal and fav hc of mine is that following jason's death, yes, batman shuts down, yes, he becomes colder and destructive — going out every night and staying out for as long as he can because hurting is better than trying and failing to sleep. i don't think he would have done the same as bruce wayne, though.

bruce wayne pulls away from the public. galas and events are either cancelled by the wayne foundations or go ahead without the man in attendance. no one can really blame him, after the death of his sheltered and beloved second son. there are no comments issued by anyone in the family besides what is strictly necessary and after one unavoidable yet invasive investigation¹ to sedate public obsession, bruce wayne does not speak on the matter at all.

he does however say a lot through action.

within a couple months, a long standing project finally gets unveiled with no big event or publicity. the Jason Todd-Wayne Homeless Shelter, right in the centre of Crime Alley. the Jason Todd-Wayne Children's Fund, offering free lunch meals to school children from struggling families. The Jason Project, focusing on reading programmes in prisons and rehabilitation support. donations under the name Jason Todd are publicly given to a multitude of charities.

the public opinion on these actions are split. some find it wonderful if heartbreaking, how a child can be so loved that their parent will do anything to make their legacy leave a mark in time. gotham hasn't seen such abrupt change in — well, ever. bruce wayne is known for charity, of course, but this is different. this is for one person. this is the most expensive form of mourning.

others are a bit unsettled. if all of this could have been done, why not do it before? why use a dead boy's name to do good that will only benefit the living waynes reputations? is this some sort of ego thing? to make himself feel better? to make everyone else feel bad?

bruce doesn't quite know himself.

part of it feels useless, pouring money and time not spent breaking bones (his own and others) into fulfilling dreams jason had once had. the boy had always wanted to help in a way that was more than batman, more than bruce. is it invasive, to assume jason would have been grateful for this, that jason would have agreed? does he have any right to be so presumptuous?

part of it feels necessary. to implicitly tell the world that even before jason todd had publicly died, the city had lost a hero². that losing him is more than just an article for the front page of the daily newsletter. that gotham has lost someone intrinsically important. to make it clear that bruce wayne is only as good as what his children let him be. that they are the ones who can make change, at the end of the day.

most of it is selfish. the Wayne Botanical Gardens opens a new exhibit for the first time in decades named My Son. the Gotham Library dedicates an entire self to Jason Todd-Wayne. the third door in the living quarters of the Wayne Manor is always locked, except for monthly dustings. there is a lesson, locked in a glass case down in a Cave, labeled A Good Soldier.

¹ : Batman: Gotham Knights #45

² : Batman #125