#i don’t want to be reminded of either of them

[that-one-girl2020]

Role Reversal Pt. 5

Saja Boys x Rumi’s Sister! Reader

A/N: Thank you guys for 2.5k followers! I have the power of God and K-pop on my side! But for real, thanks. This was a little shorter than I would’ve like because I didn’t want to be too late with the update.

I have some ideas for the role reversal versions of ‘Takedown’ and ‘Your Idol’ but I’m still unsure about ‘What It Sounds Like’ so if you guys have any recommendations for any of the three, let me know! For Takedown, I was thinking maybe Not Today by BTS and for Your Idol, either Villain by KDA or Gods by NewJeans. Let me know your thoughts and ideas in the comments!

Synopsis: The fan sign event goes the same and yet different. Tensions and emotions are rising between the two groups. Don’t worry, this part isn’t really from your point of view much.

CW: Low self esteem, insecurity, antagonizing, general chaotic antics.

Word Count: 3.0k

<< Part 4 || Master List

(Reminder: Baby = Jum, Romance = Chungae, Mystery = Hyeon, Abby = Kwan)

This was only a fraction better than being in the demon realm. And you wholeheartedly meant that.

It was the middle of the night, it was cold and all you had was a sleeping bag. And the cold concrete beneath you, your back against the brick wall. Zoey and Mira seemed fine for now and Rumi had the only chair of the four of you. You weren’t bitter. Not at all.

It’s fine. You distracted yourself from the feeling of cold stone creeping through the fabric of your sleeping bag by getting lost in thought.

Over the past week and a half, a lot of your time was spent trying to get close to the Saja Boys—with varying success. They didn’t try to kill you on sight anymore at least. But whenever you spent time with them, you came out of it feeling a little… raw. Vulnerable. Which wasn’t supposed to happen. What little you had shared with them was still more than you had shared in centuries.

But a little voice in your head kept reminding you that you had once shared everything with someone. And they had still betrayed you. Tried to kill you. The boys would too once they learned exactly who and what you were.

You were distracted from your thoughts by Mira standing and posing dramatically in her sleeping bag. “You know, I think I could make this a look.” She struck a few more poses as Zoey clapped and cheered her on while Rumi giggled fondly at their antics.

“Yessss! Get it girl!” Zoey cheered, snapping a picture on her phone as Mira posed for her, a facial expression fit for Vogue on her face as Zoey giggled and started adding stickers to the photos she liked the most.

“Send those to me later, Zo,” Rumi chimed, looking over her shoulder from atop her chair.

“Same,” Mira mused, sitting back down.

“You got it!” Zoey agreed easily.

Sigh. It was going to be a long night, wasn’t it.

~~~

The boys were very thankful for the power of makeup that morning. Before gathering in their living area, they had each swiped some concealer under their eyes to try and hide the dark circles there.

Last night, as the boys tried to sleep so they could be well rested for the fan sign event that day, their minds were occupied by the same topic. You. Not that they knew each other were thinking about you as well. No, they still hadn’t brought it up with each other.

Hyeon had been thinking about how cute it was to see you learning about arcade games, things you had apparently never seen before. Your face when you lit up after getting a prize or pouted when you lost against him. And you weren’t bothered by the fact that he wasn’t very talkative, instead filling the quiet between you with mindless chatter. Which he enjoyed because he could watch your expression and listen to the sound of your voice. He wanted to be closer to you.

Kwan couldn’t get your anger out of his head. He had pushed too far. He had spoken about things that he didn’t understand and didn’t try to until you were throwing your anger in his face. He regretted it but he understood you better now. You weren’t just an emotionless, killer demon, no, you were a girl that had been hurt at one point or another. He couldn’t help but wish he knew who it was that had hurt you so badly that you had turned to Gwi Ma, just so that he could curse them or spit on their graves or something. He couldn’t help the spark of protectiveness that flared inside him.

Chungae had been staring at the flower you had given him at the park. He would have to preserve it soon, maybe hang it to dry or press it in one of his books. Or he could get some resin and watch some tutorials… He had never received flowers from someone who wasn’t his fan or giving the group an award. Whenever he had gotten flowers before it was always someone praising him for his idol persona in one way or another. But you had just given him a flower just because you wanted to. No special reason really—at least, he thought so anyway. Maybe he should get you some flowers in return…

Jinu had had a mindless smile on his face as he laid in bed. He couldn’t help but fondly remember your face as you had cooed over your dog lovingly and adoringly. You were a shockingly good pet mom from what he had seen—even if you had let your bird scare him half to death. The more time he spent with you, the less demon and more human you seemed. Like you were just a girl and, somehow, he was just a guy. With you, the stress that had been creeping over him about the Honmoon and money and family was banished away. He wanted to hold onto that peace, that feeling you gave him.

Jum internally cursed himself for telling you that they were working on a diss track. He hadn’t given any details away about it but it was still enough to be potentially bad. But you had been just so easy to talk to. Like you understood what it meant to have part of you not be accepted so you take on a role. And then you get stuck. He couldn’t help but wonder what your role was. A quiet part of him wondered if you had let him see past the role and to you.

So yeah. Thank vanity for makeup.

At the venue, after getting checked over by the wardrobe and makeup team, the five of them sat at the table that had been set up, Bobby placing the last stack of posters in front of them as employees gave them water and extra pens. “Okay guys, I know lately that everything has been ‘Huntr/x, Huntr/x, Huntr/x.’ But, we are gonna change that into ‘Saja, Saja, Saja!’” Bobby did his best to hype the five up and they smiled appreciatively at their manager. “These fans slept on the sidewalk, overnight!” Having said his piece, Bobby hurried away for last minute details as the doors were about to open.

“Okay, guys. We got this,” Jinu whispered to his group. “Happy fans, happy what?”

“Honmoon!” The five quietly cheered and the doors were opened to let in a stream of fans. The four at the head of the line were wearing sleeping bags which was a little weird but Bobby did say that they had slept out on the sidewalk overnight.

“No pushing, single file!” Bobby called to the restless crowd.

“Thanks for coming. Who should we make this out to?” Jinu kept his cool in the face of the odd fans.

“How about, ‘to your biggest fans’?”

The sleeping bags dropped, revealing the four Huntr/x girls as they struck cool poses.

You felt like a dork.

However, the boys couldn’t help how their faces fell with shock and their eyes widened, accidentally snapping their pens at the sight of you.

Bobby did his best to remain unphased by the sudden appearance of Huntr/x at a signing event. “It’s such an honor to meet you girls.” He snapped his fingers, “Table, now!”

The workers moved swiftly, setting out another table just a little bit away from the Saja Boys’ table. Half the line immediately moved to the other table with an excited cry of, “Joint signing!”

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad about this. It was all part of the plan to steal fans from the boys, but you couldn’t help but feel like it was disrespectful to take over their event like this.

You were distracted by Kwan suddenly standing from the table, “The Huntr/x ladies will sit with us!”

“Wait, what?”

“Kwan, what’re you doing?”

“Dude, what?”

“Hmmm…”

The other four were perplexed at the sudden announcement from their member but Bobby just grinned gratefully, proclaiming the buff muscle man a genius as the workers slid the table and the chairs to join the boys swiftly. The line quickly merged back again.

Kwan merely shrugged, not explaining himself but the others didn’t complain too much. At least, until the girls sat down.

Mira plopped down between Chungae and Kwan, smirking mischieviously at the two, “Hello boys. Happy to see me?” She cooed teasingly. They both scowled, glancing down the table to see where you had ended up sitting.

Zoey sat between Kwan and Hyeon, immediately zeroing in on the man’s nails, “Hi Mystery! I love your nails, the design is so cute! Oh, do you want some stickers? I brought extra with me today for the fans!” She proceeded to aggressively stick three little stickers on his cheek. He didn’t really care. He was looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

You sat between Hyeon and Jum, waving softly at the maknae, “Hey Baby, hope you don’t mind if I sit here?” You asked politely as you slid into the seat.

The rapper merely shrugged, his lips quirked up just the smallest amount as he popped a sucker in his mouth. “Nah, I don’t mind,” He answered simply.

You smiled at him, “Thanks.” He merely hummed like he wasn’t glad that you had ended up sitting next to him.

Rumi was on the other side of the maknae, Jinu on her left as the two whispered aggressively. “What’re you doing here?” Jinu asked the purple haired girl under his breath as he signed a poster for a fan with a smile.

“What’s the matter? You don’t like sharing?” Rumi dodged his question.

“I love sharing,” Jinu responded succinctly, glancing over Rumi’s head to see how you were interacting with a younger fan softly.

“Oh, so you shared your past with your friends?” Rumi whispered softly, antagonizing him.

Even the briefest mention of his past made him snap, trying to stomp his foot down on Rumi’s but the demoness dodged and instead slammed her foot down onto his. He yelped, “Ah, ow! What’s it to you? It doesn’t have anything to do with you!” Jinu hissed at her, rubbing his foot to soothe the pain.

She just shrugged, “It’s not but I have a feeling it’s a lot like mine.”

Jinu only narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her, “How would you know, you don’t know anything about me.”

“I don’t.”

“Then—“

The two of them were interrupted by a fan in thick glasses, “Are you two whispering?”

The two fumbled awkwardly, scribbling their autographs on a poster and handing it over with forced smiles. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” She pointed at the shirt she was wearing, one she had made herself where Jinu was flying with wings and Rumi was riding on his back. It had the unfortunate caption of ‘Rujinu.’ The two just smiled uncomfortably. “So cute…” She was gone.

“Hey, Baby,” You whispered between fans. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, “Can I have a sucker?”

He blinked for a moment before quietly handing one over. “Thanks!” You smiled, hoping it would give you enough sugar to get through the rest of the event since you were exhausted and kind of hungry. You unwrapped the candy and popped it in your mouth. It was good, at first. The cinnamon flavor was sweet but mild. And then it wasn’t.

You quickly took the sucker out of your mouth and took a gulp of water, your face red. “Dude, what the heck?!”

Jum burst out laughing, throwing his head back and wrapping his arms around his middle as he kicked his feet in joy. Your face was hilarious, all red and your eyes wide. “Your face!” He choked out between cackles.

You couldn’t help but smile, smacking his arm gently in reprimand, “Now I know why your candy is never sold out despite all your fans knowing you eat it, it’s because no one with proper taste buds would eat them!”

”Hey,” Jum returned in faux annoyance but it didn’t really work since he was still chuckling and smiling, “They’re really good, you just can’t take the heat!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous the conversation was, laughing brightly with a big grin.

At the sound of you laughing so brightly, the boys couldn’t help but look at you, gravitating towards you. The girls were a bit surprised at the sound of you laughing so freely, something they had never seen you do before. But they didn’t show it.

Hyeon was shaken from his staring by the sight of a fan in front of him staring at you, eyes wide and mouth parted in awe. He couldn’t help but growl and bark at the fan. The fan was shaken from their thoughts and they quickly barked back at him. Soon the whole room was filled with barking fans. It was a Saja thing.

Zoey’s eyes were wide, her mouth open in a shocked smile, looking back and forth between the crowd of fans and the man beside her, “Wait, fans actually do that?!”

Meanwhile, at the other end of the table, a guy had come up to the table, asking the three pink haired idols to sign his arm. Mira grinned, probably guessing what the guy would do, grabbing his arm excitedly, “Sick! I’m gonna sign first!”

“Hey, I’ll sign first, he came up to me first,” Chungae argued, pulling the man’s arm towards him.

“No, I’ll sign first,” Mira argued, pulling it back towards her.

Kwan took his own turn tugging on the man’s arm, “Let Romance sign first,” He said, supporting his younger member. They kept going back and forth while the man seemed to be honored that the three idols were fighting over who would sign his arm first.

Jinu’s expression went flat as he noted all the chaos going on, “Your friends are crazy.”

Rumi took offense, “Excuse me? My girls are perfect.”

Jinu scoffed, rolling his eyes. Memories of the one time the two had met came to mind and vitriol spilled from his lips without meaning to. “Why don’t you just leave? You’re good at running from your problems, aren’t you?”

Rumi’s face steeled, turning cold and hard. Jinu didn’t know the full story. She had merely told him that she had been raised in a village that ostracized her, so Gwi Ma had helped her leave and find somewhere she was accepted. She told him that her family had come with her, supporting and loving her. She didn’t tell him that she had left you behind.

Rumi pasted a smile on her face, standing from the table, “I’m so sorry everyone but Huntr/x has to get going now!” She announced. You, Mira, and Zoey looked at her, confused at the change of plans but didn’t argue, just standing and waving at the fans as they cheered and threw bouquets at you. You blew kisses into the crowd, flashing finger hearts at them as you left. You smiled and waved goodbye to Jum as you followed the girls to the back, Bobby calling a car to the back for you guys as he tapped away at his phone.

Once you were out of view of the fans, your face fell with exhaustion and hunger as you slumped. You sighed. Being with the boys boosted your energy for a little bit but now you were back to being tired and hungry and sore from sleeping on cement. You were gonna go back to the apartment, cuddle with Arson and Sprite, and take a long nap. Maybe you could convince Sprite to make an illusion of the night sky if you gave him his favorite berries.

~~~

By the time the event ended and the venue was getting cleaned up, Bobby was scrolling through his phone ecstatically. “That went shockingly well! The internet loved it and the internet is never wrong!”

The five gathered around Bobby curiously to see what he was talking about. There was a photo of Rumi and Jinu’s feet touching under the table, the caption asking if they were playing footsie with their ship name, ‘Rujinu,’ underneath. Clicking through, there was a picture of you and Baby smiling and laughing with the caption, ‘I’ve never seen Baby smile and laugh like this with someone not in the group!? Baby x (Y/n) for the win!’ Then there was a drawing of Zoey and Hyeon with Zoey kissing a little heart sticker on his cheek, a smile on his lips, ‘Zoeystery.’ There was even a collage of the three pink haired idols inside of a bunch of hearts, Mira in the middle with a devilish smirk, ‘Miromabby.’

“I honestly have no idea how fans come up with this stuff…” Chungae couldn’t help but muse as they clicked through socials.

Kwan grimaced in agreement, “Yeah, they’re kinda especially delulu with this one.”

Hyeon merely hummed, scratching at the stickers still on his face.

Jinu was quietly contemplative.

Jum just shrugged. He was secretly completely fine with his.

Bobby perked up, “Oh, there’s one more,” He clicked, holding the phone out so they could all see.

It was a picture of the whole table. You were circled, with your smile bright and your eyes sparkling as you were mid laugh. It was the moment when all the boys had looked at you at the sound of your joyful laugh. There were arrows emphasizing the direction of their stares, all pointed towards you. Under the picture, was the caption, ‘Poly Pride?! I wish I was her!!! Saja Boys x (Y/n)!’

Their faces turned pink, looking at each other with wide eyes. They really wanted to ask why each other was staring at you, Jum being the only exception because you two had been in a conversation. But if one of them asked then they would eventually be asked as well and they wouldn’t know how to answer without sounding like they had growing feelings for a demon.

So they scattered and said nothing.

A/N: Please have comedic outtakes and author’s thoughts to make up for being a little late with the update.

Outtakes:

…

You: “Hey, Jum, can I sit here?”

Jum: *internally: yes. Please. You may have my whole heart as well if you want.* *shrugs* “Sure.”

Other Saja Simps: *Gritting their teeth and seething with envy*

…

Fans: *Barking*

Huntr/x: *shook* “Wait, fans actually bark at idols?! We thought that was just a myth!”

Saja Boys: *shrugs, completely used to getting barked at due to Hyeon always barking at fans*

…

Fan A: “I am telling you that Rumi and Jinu belong together! They are soulmates!”

Fan B: “Fine, sure, but they will never be as in love as Zoey and Mystery obviously are!”

Fan C: *confused, squinting at the fan sign table* “Guys. It’s obviously two poly groups. Rumi, Mira and Zoey, and then (Y/n) with the Saja Boys.”

Fan A and B: “…”

Fan A and B: “Rumi, Mira, and Zoey do scream power lesbians…”

Fan A: “I will still die on my ship though.”

Fan B: “Same.”

Fan C: *Sigh*

…

Author’s Thoughts:

Rumi and Jinu have a much more antagonistic relationship in this because they have similar shames, both having left their families behind at some point. They recognize each other as too similar so they instinctively don’t like each other very much. They bring up memories that they don’t want to remember for each other.

The boys don’t communicate as openly as the original short series. This is because in my original series, they were all demons and there was an innate understanding that they weren’t great people. They didn’t know what led them to being where they were but they knew that they were there for a reason.

On the other hand, in the role reversal, the boys feel pressure from their training days of keeping up these perfect idol personas, including with each other, so they don’t talk about things that are bothering them. This is like how Rumi, Mira, and Zoey didn’t really communicate about their insecurities with each other in the movie until towards the end.

Jum doesn’t have that childlike curiosity he had in my original series because in the original series, he had never experienced the modern day human world since he was born in the demon realm. Instead, that curiosity has shifted over to the reader as someone who was human four centuries ago and very behind on the times.

The reader is more bitter and sarcastic in the role reversal. She doesn’t really try to have a relationship with Rumi. This is because, she didn’t find anyone to love and support her unconditionally like she did in the original series. Instead, she found someone that validated her insecurities that she was unlovable as she was.

Tag List: @jaybbygrl @aurorab-0-realis @minthoneynbasil @thatonegrimm @n0tbelle @reverie-sxno @gremlinartstudio @littlepotaaatosimp @mvskedxrtist @lluxentzz @closehereyes @lyunsafebubble @ashleygryffindor @whimsiecat @towfuu1 @thesimpbella @fries11 @lov3ly-3m @teenyfinds @arieslucy @boldlyenchantingfox22 @mel3484 @lizzymizzy-blogg @fastleopard1521 @cultish-corner @kitkatpattywack2808 @tsukimoon-chan @alleakimlala @yandereobsession @sherzzzzz @otherworldlover @hawarun @f1shst1xx @avadakadabra93 @moonthesleepyhead @sra7riddle-malfoy @beautifulpeoplebeautifulpr0blems @boo-shalala @venommie @magical-spit @neverending-animelove @nerdsconquerall @eli1412 @imjusthereforthecake @moochiwoochi @a-writer-with-anxiety @sexually-attracted-to-pans @katzline @uniquecutie-puffs @forgetfulsmols

[hellowoolf]

[teaser] all the way

summary: you have always believed you are uniquely suited for your line of work. you have lived as a keen observer, have served and protected myriad public figures with an insistence upon your utmost professionalism. when glimmering star satoru gojo needs a second live-in security detail, you're happy to take the job—so what if his primary fucking hates you? or worse, if he wants to ruin you?

pairing: bodyguard!geto x bodyguard!reader x movie star!gojo

tags: enemies/coworkers to lovers i guess?? and satoru is also there?? it's complicated you'll see, mentions of guns (but nobody uses them), gojo is touchy and sort of pathetic sometimes lol, SMUT!!, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, praise, degradation sorta, unprotected piv, creampie (yay!), rough sex, fingering, oral (m!receiving), voyeurism/exhibitionism, um....watching....? cucking…? idk don’t shackle me with labels

this is a TEASER for my upcoming one shot!! so please let me know if you'd like to be tagged, probably planning to post sometime this weekend/early next week :3 <3

masterlist

18+ mdni please! <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it becomes increasingly clear how little you know about suguru geto.

he’s not quite as demandingly touchy as satoru is, doesn’t collect you from behind when you walk past or kiss your temple in greeting—satoru does these things, and you choose to believe that these are void of meaning, though really you’re not so sure anymore—but nonetheless geto seems to find some quiet joy in using his hands.

you can remember padding into the kitchen late one night, far past when you usually go to bed, to find suguru twisting his fingers in satoru’s hair. it was a mindless sort of thing, an occupation with his hands while they spoke in hushed voices as to not disturb you, but it struck you as…soft, sweet. when he caught you looking he didn’t stop, either, only rested his head along the back of the couch and grinned like he didn’t mind that you saw. something hot and terrible licked up your legs then, and you turned on your heel to hide again in your room.

he touches you, too. small things, all of them, inconsequential if they weren’t so monumentally divergent from what your relationship had once been. a hand placed gingerly around the back of your neck to show you something, the push of his thigh against yours as the three of you watch a movie on satoru’s couch, the invading of your space to hear your voice over a crowd. 

and you don’t mean to find feeling in any of them. you care so deeply about your professionalism and you’re horrified by the thought of jeopardizing it, but god, it’s difficult when the low rasp of his voice comes wafting over the shell of your ear every time he has something to say. you watch the cords of his arms when he moves, the bump of his heartbeat in his neck, the pink of his tongue when he wets his bottom lip. it all makes you sticky and ashamed, though not quite enough to keep you from rubbing tight circles on your clit to the thought of him at night.

you tell yourself that it’s harmless, that it’s your secret to keep—in truth, you really have no alternative given your living situation, but it’s been months now since you’ve been fucked. you swallow your whines and your pride, and when you wash your hands of your own arousal you have no choice but to believe it will be okay. 

still, sometimes, in the orange glow of the evening light, you catch them both staring at you, at the dip of your collarbone as it slopes under your shirt, at your bare legs before you retire to your room. and the voracious part of you—the part with needs—wonders whether geto wants you in the same quiet way you want him, whether gojo has heard your soft mewling in the small hours of the morning.

in the end they always turn away, and your suspicion fades. but it’s those brief moments in the spotlight of their gazes that you fear it might not be okay at all.

the thrum of sunday traffic taps softly at the windows of the apartment, a reminder that the world continues turning even while the three of you sequester yourselves indoors. satoru has been slowly growing more exhausted the past week, the barely blue veining of bags under his eyes, his expression weary and limbs even looser than normal. 

he stretches his body across his sofa, an arm hanging down and grazing the floor, a leg across the back. you lean over the armrest to look at his face from upside down. he still smiles in that boyish sort of way he always does, despite how clearly worn he is.

“do you have anything tonight? or can i take a shower?”

he yawns into his words. “i’m not going anywhere. i might never go anywhere again. the night is yours.”

you can’t help but grin at how feline he is, a sleepy cat stretched too thin. you push off the armrest to make for the bathroom but his lithe arm shoots out to grasp your wrist. his eyes are almost closed, half asleep you suspect, but he catches you on instinct anyway.

“stay with me,” he pleads.

“i thought you just told me the night is mine,” you chuckle.

“yeah, yours to choose to hang out with me,” he says through a soft smile.

you’ve never been as close with a client as you are with satoru, but it comes with the territory, you suppose; you’ve never lived with a client quite so long, either. with anyone else you think it might bother you, but satoru is the sort of man who trusts out loud: the fact of his friendship doesn’t make you wonder whether he respects you any less. you think he takes suguru to be something like a god, an invisible worship, and they’re as close friends as anyone.

you sit yourself on the plush carpet with your back against the couch so satoru can card his fingers through your hair, the crown of your head pressing into his leg as you lean into his touch.

“is suguru still holed up in his room?”

gojo groans exasperatedly. “i get two seconds with you and you’re already asking for him?”

“don’t be greedy, satoru,” a low admonishment rumbles from the hallway as suguru pads in. you squeeze your thighs slightly and hope satoru can’t see it. you are so fucked.

satoru’s fingers curl more intently into your hair and tug, whining something like well i am greedy, and you know he means to be playful but your body—a traitorous, needful thing—defies you, one tiny, pathetic moan choked in the back of your throat at the feeling. you hear geto’s footfalls pause, hear gojo’s sharp intake of breath.

you exhale slowly, as though you’re afraid some other terrible noise will leave your mouth next. you can’t look at either of them but nonetheless you feel them both surveying you.

and you make a living off of quick reflexes and intuition, but god help you even though you feel the soft twitch of satoru’s fingers again you don’t have the faculties to stop him; he tugs one more time, softer, but pregnant with meaning now. you manage to stay quiet save for the squeeze of your eyes shut. 

suguru murmurs your name, watching from behind the couch, quiet like he’s trying not to startle something skittish and small. it jolts you to sobriety and you all but smack satoru’s hand away with the back of yours, standing quickly and face flushed with humiliation. you can’t make eye contact with either of them as you rush out towards your room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hehe i hope you liked it :D like i said above, if you want to be tagged in the full one shot, please let me know :)

taglist: open!

[luvmeholdme]

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐘

· ˚ .ೃ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

synopsis: martin and hamzah needed someone to record for them, and you were down. however, after an unexpected, subtle feature in the video, hamzah wanted to help you out of your comfort zone and break you out of your “camera shyness”…ʚ♡⃛ɞ~(•͈ᴗ•͈~)

word count: 1.25k

pairing: hamzah x filmer/cameragirl! reader

warnings: fem! reader, a bit of a plot, usage of “y/n,” written in 2nd person, pet names like “baby, honey,” smut (rather vanilla), p in v, sex on camera, edging (?), face-off/cowgirl (?) position, missionary, sub! reader + softdom! hamzah, slight dirty talk, unprotected/raw sex

a/n: hii, um idk what took so long to write this lol! anyway uhh idk what to say. not really proofread 😓.

· ˚ .ೃ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“oh, shit..” were the first words you heard from hamzah after waking up. maybe it was a lost shoe, a lost sock, something, until he gently shakes your shoulder to wake you all the way. he sheepishly smiles at your barely open eyes and asks,

“hey, baby, can you record for us today? uh, mandy cancelled on us.”

well, what else did you have to do? it was your day off, you didn’t have other plans, and you could hang out with your amazing boyfriend. so, albeit reluctantly, you agreed. plus, it was near hamzah’s house and was going to be at a restaurant where they’d film a mukbang—very calm, not super intense video and you weren’t going to be on camera.

hours went by of filming, eating, and laughing quietly behind the camera at the jokes both of them would crack. the video ended with both of them outside the restaurant, making comments on the food. you couldn’t really focus on anything besides hamzah. well, until-

“what’d you think, y/n?” martin asks. 

you nervously giggle. you didn’t really expect to be involved in the video, so you just put up a small thumbs up and let out a quiet “it was good.” yeah, sure, you had a small following of your own, but you weren’t used to being on camera in a youtube video—or even on camera in a video in general. 

“why’re you so nervous?”hamzah asked once you both were finally back at his house. he was changing into some more relaxed clothes, you were sitting on his bed and you were really thinking about his question.

why were you so camera shy?

you shrugged, looking down at your lap. “‘don’t know. just not used to being on camera and talking to, in the moment, an invisible audience, in a youtube video, y’know?” you explained as you fully plopped down onto the bed.

hamzah shrugged, broad shoulders being clothed by a plain white shirt.

“want me to repay you? i can help you get a little more comfortable on camera.”

you expected a little practice with a fake video, maybe a little tiktok on hamzah’s account to push you out of your shyness.

you didn’t expect for hamzah to set up a camera and fuck you. 

ʚ♡⃛ɞ~(•͈ᴗ•͈~)

“h-hamzah…” you filthily whispered, cheeks flushed and hot from the touch and kisses of the man you were on top of. behind you was a camera, the red light being a torturous reminder that all of your movements were being recorded for hamzah’s liking and “your own sake” and “camera shyness.” hamzah’s words, not yours.

his hands slowly traced the sides of your waist to try and give you a sense of comfort. you cradle the back of his head, fingers running over his curly frosted tips.

“turn around, baby. look at the camera. don’t be shy.” he mumbled against your lips, as if this scene would’ve pushed you out of your comfort zone. it’s not like there’d be any audience besides either one of you.

hamzah’s words could’ve made you orgasm right there. but, reluctantly, you complied. you could see the dirty scene in the lens that came into your peripheral: hamzah on the edge of the couch, your thighs straddling his lap, and his cock settled against your aching cunt. you let out a breathy moan and turned back to hamzah, his lips slightly parted.

you crookedly smiled down at him before your expression was painted with pleasure. “f-fuck, hamzah,” you moaned while slowly dragging your heat up his cock before he stopped you. he let out a breathy chuckle as he placed his hands on your hips. “hey…let me do that. just focus on letting loose.” he said softly while guiding your hips onto his cock. he was acting as if you could focus on anything else besides his cock bottoming you out. 

you let out a cry as he plopped you down, his tip pressed against your cervix, his dick effectively stretching you out. hamzah placed a sloppy kiss against your shoulder as he adjusted the camera’s position, allowing the camera to catch the activity with more focus.

“y/n, just focus on relaxing. you’re so tense…” he whispered, pushing a strand of hair out of your already fucked-out face. he gave a teasing smirk before adding, “is it the camera?”

you let out an annoyed sigh before moving your hips in an attempt to gain any sort of relief. hamzah groaned and raised your hips, his tip threatening to peek out of your slick walk. “shit, y/n…you’re so-…ha…” he could barely finish his sentence as you began to lower your weight back onto his shaft. 

his hands helped you speed up your hip movements, barely able to contain himself with the feeling of your tight, velvety walls around him. he moaned, looking into your eyes, both your foreheads against each other.

“h-hamzah, you’re so….too deep- mmph!” you dug your head into his shoulder to shush your moans and yelps until he grabs your chin to tilt your head. 

“look at the camera, baby. don’t be so nervous…only going to be…fuck, you and me watching this. ‘s a…good warmup…” hamzah’s words were interrupted by his pleasure and the loud, harsh, yet sweet moans you let out. i pressed your forehead against his, your eyes still glued onto the camera lens.

with every movement, you grew closer to getting over the edge until hamzah slowed, cradling your head to settle you down on the couch against the pillow to fuck into your drooling pussy just a bit deeper. his hand pressed flat against your stomach, his other tracing the outline of your jaw. your face contorted with pleasure with every thrust he gave, every moan he let out and every incoherent sentence he uttered.

“f-fuck! y-…yeah, oh, feel so…so tight…”

“fuckin’ perf…perfect- hah…”

his deep and precise thrusts left you thirsting for more, and you turned back to face him. “honey…h-hamzah, i dunno how much longer i c-can go f…for…” you managed to get out, barely holding back any groans and whimpers. hamzah simply nodded, leaning into your lips to hold sloppy kisses, moaning into your mouth as he hit your g-spot over and over again.

you felt his pace pick up and moves get sloppier and less meticulous. his thumb found its way to your bruised clit, using the slick that came from your cunt to make his stimulating movements more enjoyable.

you cried out his name, grabbing and clenching onto the pillow you rested your head on. both of you knew that was the way to get you really close, and no one loved that fact more than hamzah. he let out a struggled chuckle before-

“s-s-shit hamzah! ‘cu…cumming!” you basically screamed out, your hands clinging onto the fabric of the pillow. he nodded, his pace speeding up to not only help you ride out your high, but bring him to his own orgasm. 

after a few more thrusts and struggled groans, he finally spilled his cum inside you, overwhelming your already sensitive cunt. you brought your shaking hands up to his face to kiss him, tongues pressed against each other. he smiled into the kiss, pushing your hair behind your ears.

“…you okay?” he mumbled into your lips, holding himself up in his left elbow. after a subtle nod from you, he pulled himself out of you and shut off the camera. “w-was i okay?” you asked while he held the camera in his hands. hamzah simply smiled before pressing a firm but soft kiss on your temple, his hands shaking as they slid and groped your skin.

“you were perfect…” he whispered.

· ˚ .ೃ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

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[hhhwnr]

ꨄMorning routines are different here — S.R

main masterlist disabled!reader masterlist

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint… word count: 1k

pairing: Spencer Reid x chronic fatigue/POTS!reader

content: Mentions/symptoms of POTS and/or chronic fatigue, no explicit medical descriptions.

summary: Some days you just can’t. But with someone like Spencer, you’re reminded that there’s no need to rush, and that love doesn’t come with conditions—or a stopwatch.

author’s note: This is a piece inspired by requests and my own want to explore what love and care can look like while living with POTS or chronic fatigue. While I don’t have either condition myself, I’ve done my best to research and approach the topics with empathy, respect, and a whole lot of heart. If I’ve unintentionally gotten something wrong, I’m always open to respectful feedback!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

There was a time when mornings meant motion.

You used to wake up early, sometimes even before your alarm, feet full of energy hitting the floor. Hair half-brushed, music too loud, skipping breakfast more often than not because you were already running a few steps ahead of your own schedule. There was energy in your bones back then—momentum, maybe. You moved through life like you were always late to something worth arriving early for.

But now? Now… not so much.

Now, some mornings don’t start until noon. And even then, it takes work. Your limbs stay heavy, your thoughts slower. Some days your body feels like it’s made of wet sand—dense and stubborn, refusing to cooperate. It’s not always like that. But when it is, it’s like waking up to disappointment before you’ve even opened your eyes.

You used to hate it. The stillness. The slowness. The constant bargaining between body and will. But Spencer never did.

He never once looked at you like less. Not on the days you couldn’t stand up right away, not when you had to lie flat on the floor after a shower, not when you could barely sit through dinner without blinking too long. He just… learned. Adjusted. Matched your pace with quiet precision, like it came naturally.

This morning was one of the hard ones.

Your eyes blinked open, dry and bleary, and you didn’t even try to move. The sunlight had just begun its slow creep across the bedspread. You were still lying on your side, curled into yourself like a comma.

Spencer turned a page in his book beside you—he’d been reading for at least twenty minutes, probably longer. He didn’t say anything at first. Just waited, thumb resting against the spine.

“Hey…” you whispered, voice rough.

His gaze flicked instantly to yours, warm and already smiling. “Hey,” he whispered back.

You didn’t have to say it. He could tell—by the look in your eyes, by the way your fingers barely twitched toward the covers instead of pulling them back. It was going to be a slow morning.

“Tea?” he asked gently, setting the book aside. “I made the vanilla rooibos one. Your favorite. It’s still warm.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. “I… might not be able to sit up yet.”

“That’s okay,” he said, like it always was.

Spencer stayed close, legs tucked beneath him, brushing your hair softly back from your face. You breathed, slowly. He waited, patiently.

Eventually, when your eyes stayed open a little longer and your fingers curled toward his hand, he leaned down and kissed your forehead—just once, light and steady.

“Small steps,” he murmured. “No pressure.”

Fifteen minutes later, you made it to the kitchen table. Not on your own—Spencer steadied you gently under the arm, not too much, just enough. He never hovered. He knew when to let you lead.

The table was already set: mismatched placemats, your favorite mug, and a smoothie in the tall glass with the blue straw—the one that made it easier to sip when your arms felt weak. Bananas, coconut milk, peanut butter, and some sneaky chia seeds blended in. You recognized the mix. Potassium. Salt. Gentle protein. All things to help your body stay upright a little longer today.

He slid a small plate of salted rice cakes toward you, along with sliced strawberries and a hard-boiled egg, peeled already. Soft colors. Easy textures. Food that didn’t ask too much of you.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he said, sitting beside you, pulling his own mug toward him. “But I like taking care of you.”

You blinked at him slowly, the fog in your brain still stubborn around the edges, but thinner now. A little light peeked through it.

“I’m not… disappointing?” you asked, barely more than a whisper.

Spencer paused mid-sip, setting his mug down gently. “Never.”

Your eyes stung—just a little.

He reached over, thumb brushing the back of your hand. “You’re not slow. You’re steady. That’s better. The world’s too fast anyway.”

You smiled, even as your body sagged into the chair a bit more.

You took a sip from the smoothie. Cold, rich, not too sweet. Made just the way you liked it.

Your hands still trembled a little when you set the glass down. Not from nerves—just from being. From your body’s unspoken, relentless effort to keep up.

It was one of those days. Not the worst. Not the best. Somewhere in the middle of the wide, foggy spectrum you’d come to know.

You ended up on the couch a little while later, curled into Spencer’s side with a blanket draped over your lap and your laptop propped on a pillow. You weren’t chasing productivity exactly—you’d long since made peace with the fact that rest was not laziness—but a part of you craved some shape to the day. Some gentle boundary between the hours. Some rhythm.

Working from home helped. It gave you something to touch when the rest of your body felt untethered. A routine, even if it was paused and patched together.

Spencer didn’t ask why you reached for the laptop. He just adjusted the throw pillow behind your back and handed you your wireless mouse without a word.

You clicked open your inbox with fingers slower than they used to be, wrists already aching a little. But you were here. Upright. Functioning. Or close enough.

It wasn’t about proving anything to him—you knew that. Spencer had never once made you feel like you had to earn your place next to him. But still, somewhere inside you, a whisper lingered: Show him you’re trying. Show him you’re still you.

As if you had gone anywhere at all.

Spencer read beside you in silence, legs stretched long, thumb brushing your knee every so often. Not checking on you. Just being there.

You shifted slightly, wincing at the ache in your spine.

“Okay?” he murmured, setting his book down.

You nodded once, offering a small smile. “Just tired.”

He adjusted the blanket over your lap again and pressed a kiss into your hair. “You’re allowed to be.”

You leaned in without realizing it, your head finding the soft spot between his shoulder and neck. The warm weight of him. His steady breathing. His hand finding yours again, like always.

This was what normal looked like now. Slower. Quieter. Built around needs instead of expectations.

You weren’t broken. You weren’t a burden. You were here, living a life stitched together with care—and someone beside you who never needed you to prove your worth to begin with.

Thank you for reading! ♡︎

[m3mento-m0rii]

Hello! I love you're writing! May I request the Saja boys x female werewolf reader? (Separate)

The Saja boys found out what she was when she was howling at night time

Reader has a physical human appearance, she doesn't transform in the full moon, instead they can transform whenever she wants to

Her wolf features have ears, tail, fangs and claws and her eyes are wolf-like

Her tail wags when she's being petted. When it's night time, she howls in the moon which attracts other wolves to howl as well

She surprisingly has cat like antics. Such as chasing the red laser and when someone presses her palm, her claws come out just like a cat! She can also retract them

Reader is really sweet and energetic

Dog Days Are Over—

1.4k words; Saja Boys x Werewolf! reader Masterlist | Requests open!

The Sajas had seen plenty of other creatures in their time alive (dead??). A werewolf, though??

A/N: Aaaa okay this request gave me flashbacks to TOO many things, but most of all it reminded me of the Halloween series I want to do 🥹 I guess perfect timing for summerween?? I couldn't make myself physically write 'howling' so I decided to take it in a different context, I hope that's okay with you. Okay, I tried my best, anon enjoy <33

Jinu—

He’d be lying if he said he’d never suspected anything was up with you.

He just . . . noticed. Your clumsy, uncaring nature, the slight glimmer of a glamour. Your penchant for staying up in the night, the way Sussie and Derpy interact with you.

The nail in the coffin, though, was catching you on the balcony. Jinu could hear you, watched you look up at the sky. Not talking to it, not singing, but . . . crooning?

It was a bit quiet. Raspy. Something that curled into the air the way a normal voice wouldn’t. And the air seemed to take it kindly, like it was devotional, allegiance or something.

There was something mesmerizing about it, just like his own voice, and he knew that you weren’t normal.

“A . . . werewolf?” He finally decided to ask, causing your head to snap in his direction. You hesitated; not that you didn’t hear him behind you, but that you didn’t expect him to deduce it like that.

“A demon,” you countered, and he almost stiffened.

The both of you stared for a while, looking the other up and down in that calculating way.

Then, you grinned. “Well, go on. Trade for trade? Tit for tat, or whatever.”

“You go first,” he huffed, amused. You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t want to wait; with a little puff and fog surrounding you, you transformed.

“. . . Ta-da?”

Jinu blinked, slowly starting to circle you. Ears standing at attention, sharp canines, wild eyes. Your tail twitched at his gaze.

“. . . Cute.”

“Really?!” You beamed, tail flicking behind you as you perked up. Jinu laughed, extending his hand to rub your head, watching as the wagging only intensified.

“Yes, you’re very cute.”

“Okay, now trade.”

“. . .”

“Jinu,” your eyes narrowed, and he backed up. He could tell that look meant trouble.

“Maybe another time??”

You frowned, moving to lunge at him, only for him to pull a little red clicker out of his pocket, pointing it at the wall.

“Distraction!!”

“WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE THAT—?!”

Abby—

Abby already knew. 

Honestly, the moment you got into a relationship with him, he knew. Not because he had a good guess, but because he didn’t want to lie to you about who he was, either. So you can imagine the sigh of relief when he figured you also weren’t normal.

On an even brighter side: he didn’t have to restrain himself around you!

Which is how you found yourselves play-fighting in the living room, trying to pin the other down. 

“You can’t stay over there forever,” He smirked, the both of you on opposite sides of the couch. You were running each other in circles, neither of you willing to take too much of a chance.

You shook your head, ears high and alert. “I don’t need to.”

He rocked his head back and forth, watching as your attention flicked to the door as Romance walked in. 

Abby took his chance, throwing himself over the couch to tackle you by the shoulders. You yelped, cursing yourself as he caught you off guard.

Lucky for you, you were not weak.

Allowing him to take you to the floor, you used the momentum from the lunge to roll the both of you over. Abby grunted, and you let out a victorious ‘aha!’ as you pinned his wrists to either side of him.

Except you failed to account for the table, and in pushing his wrist away from you, you bumped into the leg. But that wasn’t the problem. No, it was the glass center piece, which fell off the table in slow-mo and shattered on the other side.

Silence.

You and Abby slowly looked at each other, and you heard Romance snicker.

“I suppose it’s a good thing we have magic, right?”

Mystery—

You know what? Mystery fucked with this revelation heavy. You already know why.

He hummed quietly to you as he pet your ears, smiling as he watched your tail wag behind you. You weren’t even conscious of it, just smiling sleepily as his fingers scritched behind your ears. 

It was nice to repay the favor in the way you were always practically petting him.

Mystery couldn’t help but be curious of you. Well, you were literally a dog person, practically. A very, very cute one, too. And when you let your true self show, Mystery took it as an invitation for himself, too.

He gently pressed a digit into your mouth, feeling the sharpness of your canines. It made your own eyes open to see his . . . tusks?

“. . . We’re not so different after all,” you whispered, and it warmed Mystery’s cheeks.

Mystery continued exploring little things about you; some even just the normals. The way your ears sat on your head, the softness of the fur there as it met your hair. He booped your nose gently, causing you to give a little sneeze.

“Adorable.”

Well, he hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but it made your tail wag more.

Still, he had one last thing to try.

He gently took your hand, and you let him, nuzzling further into him. Pressing on the soft center of your palm gently with his own clawed thumb, he watched as your nails sharpened and extended from your fingertips. That wasn’t what had drawn his attention, though.

Instead, he was focused on the barely visible pads underneath your skin.

“. . . Secret toe beans.”

You only softened, taking a deep breath. “Secret toe beans.”

Romance—

“You’re not gonna track hair everywhere, right?”

You deadpanned as he kept his distance from you jokingly, your tail swishing in annoyance. “Sooner or later, you’re going to find out.”

Romance sweat-dropped, taking a step back. Only for you to step forward. Then another, and another, until Romance was bolting down the hallway with you hot on his tail.

“AGH HELP SHE WANTS ME DEAD–!”

“I WANT CUDDLES THAT’S NOT THE SAME THING!”

Still, he shrieked (you know, as one would when faced with being chased) and ran to his room. But he wasn’t fast enough to close the door on you, nor was he strong enough to keep it shut with your momentum.

You slammed the door open with a wild laugh, jumping Romance and ignoring the way he landed on the floor with a thud.

“Ouch, my ass-”

You grinned, headbutting his jaw gently and curling into him more. He groaned, resigning himself to the affections as he slumped onto the ground. “The lint-roller, my new best friend.”

“What am I, dog meat?”

“Well, technically—”

You pouted, bumping his head softly. Romance only smiled, tilting your face up by the chin to meet your eyes.

They held something untamed. Not unlike a demons’ eyes, but vaguely different; not so mischievous, but playful. You tilted your head, your gaze glinting slightly as you naturally gave him puppy eyes.

“. . . You do have pretty eyes, though.”

Baby—

It didn’t matter who, what, when, where, or why, Baby always lived to fuck with you. Being a werewolf didn’t make it any different.

He snickered as he carefully petted your ears, watching them flick up after he flattened them. It was almost a game, and you didn’t mind.

“. . . Do you like dog treats?”

Oh, here we go.

“No,” you huffed, “I don’t like dog treats.”

“Biscuits, peanut butter?”

“Baby.”

His smirk only widened until it was hard to contain on his face, it hurt. “Okay, okay, but listen, I have another question.”

You looked to Mystery and Romance, watching as the latter raised a brow. “What, they’re honest questions.”

You groaned, sinking further into your seat. Baby munched on his chips without caution, trying to hide his intentions behind each handful.

It’s impossible to hide that kind of mischief.

Eventually, though, you just have to give in. “What is it?” You reluctantly allowed, watching as Baby’s hand slowly fell from his mouth.

“Does this make you a furry?”

Romance choked on his drink, and your gaze immediately snapped to Baby. “Are you serious—?”

“Woof.”

“Come here, you little shit-”

Mystery and Romance watched as you jumped up and Baby dashed away from the kitchen table, narrowly avoiding a wall to dodge you.

“Should we-?”

Mystery shrugged. “It’s their love language.”

»                                                      ⊱◈⊰

A/N: Honestly? This was also a fun request!! Thank you for submitting it anon, and I hope you enjoyeddd <33 See you soon!

—Captain Morii 🌤️

Morii's Business Class: @abby-himbo-truther @kpopmultistans @momentomoribitch

[bittybeanscafe]

Oh, They’re So Weird (☉-⚆)

“You recently got laid off of your job. Thankfully, you found an ad on Craigslist that paid quite a bit for you to just housesit! 🍩”

DAY THREE

Previous Day -> Next Day

Contains: Nightmare, Curt and Rod, Betty, Keith, Lady Memoria, Artt, Johnny Splash

It felt like sinking.

One moment you were wrapped in the warmth of your bed, the quiet hush of the house cradling you like a lullaby. The next, you were falling: slowly, gently, through a thick fog of velvet shadows and distant stars.

Then: hooves.

The sound echoed in the dark, heavy and deliberate, like thunder walking on silk. You turned, and the fog parted.

She emerged slowly, like a statue sculpted from moonlight and shadow.

Nightmare.

Tall. Towering. Her figure was equine, but not just horse. The head of a snake made her not quite a unicorn. The head of a lion made her not quite a snake either. A mane like drifting ink. Hooves that left no mark on the dreamspace. Her many eyes glowed violet, rimmed with frost, and when she spoke, it was with a voice that echoed both within you and outside of you.

“You came to the house,” she said, circling you slowly.

“It let you in. Which means you’re lonely.”

“All the others were, too.”

You took a step back, breath catching in your throat. You tried to speak, but your voice stuck somewhere between confusion and cold fear.

She stopped. Tilted her head.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

“That’s okay. People forget the bad dreams… until they wake up crying.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped, soft and heavy:

“Do you remember what it’s like to be left behind?”

“To be waiting by the phone for someone who never calls?”

“To tell people you’re fine just so you won’t scare them away?”

“To wonder if you were ever wanted at all?”

Each word hit like a nail through your ribs. You stepped back: once, twice, until your legs refused to move. Something tight and old rose in your chest. That familiar ache. That raw little voice you didn’t talk about anymore.

She leaned close.

“That emptiness in your chest is shaped like someone you needed,” she whispered.

“And they never came back.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes.

Then… silence.

Nightmare pulled away, her expression unreadable, but her glowing eyes softened. The fog around her shimmered, and her body shifted ever so slightly. Still powerful. Still haunting. But… smaller, somehow. Less imposing.

She sighed.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “That part always works too well.”

“But I needed you to feel it first.”

“Now… do you understand what I’m telling you?”

You stood there, breath shallow, the pain still raw, but clear now. Not a wound, but a warning. Not just from her, but about her.

You nodded slowly, voice hoarse. “You’re not here to hurt me… you’re here to remind me that even comfort has shadows. That even kindness has to be earned. That… not everything in this house is soft and warm.”

Nightmare blinked.

Then laughed.

It was loud. Gleeful. A full-bodied sound that echoed through the dream like silver bells and thunder. She tossed her head back, dark mane rippling with sparkles of starlight.

And was that a blush?

“Hah! You’re sharper than the last one,” she chuckled, hiding her face with a flick of her long mane.

“I like you.”

She turned, her form already fading into the fog.

“Remember what I said, dreamer. Shadows follow even the warmest light.”

And with that, she vanished, leaving behind the faint scent of lavender, smoke… and something almost sweet.

You sat bolt upright, chest heaving.

The dream clung to your skin like smoke: dense, heavy, and too real. You could still feel the echo of her words ringing inside your ribs.

“That emptiness in your chest is shaped like someone you needed… and they never came back.”

You rubbed your arms. Cold. You hadn’t been cold all week. But now?

It felt like her shadow had followed you through the veil of sleep.

The room was quiet.

Too quiet.

You looked around, heart still racing. The curtains were drawn again, but gently this time. Like they were being… cautious.

Even Curt and Rod, usually the sassiest voices in the room, were still.

Rod murmured softly, almost to himself,

“We may’ve underestimated that one.”

Curt sighed, voice low.

“Nightmare doesn’t do subtle.”

“Poor kid…”

They shifted quietly, slowly easing the curtains open: just enough to let a thin beam of sunlight spill across the bed. It stretched across your lap, warm and golden. Like a hand reaching out.

At the same time, the mattress beneath you shifted, not alarmingly, but gently. Like it was molding around you. Embracing you. The blanket tucked closer around your shoulders, soft and safe.

The feeling seeped into your spine like warmth in winter.

You exhaled shakily.

“…Thanks,” you whispered, pressing a hand to the bed.

Betty: quiet, patient Betty, murmured in her own way. Not with words, but with comfort. With care. With the deep, familiar kind of touch that didn’t ask questions. She knew what a nightmare felt like. She carried them for others all the time.

This wasn’t the first time someone had woken up crying on her back.

And it wouldn’t be the last.

You sat there for a long moment, grounding yourself. The bed. The light. The room. It was real. You were safe.

DING!

Your phone buzzed from the nightstand. You reached for it with slightly shaky fingers.

Text from: Homeowner

> Morning! Hope the house is treating you well. Would you mind cleaning the attic today? I know it’s a weird request, but I’ll pay an extra \$500.

> Please be respectful to the memories up there. There’s a lot of old things we care about. Some might… feel it.

> Let me know!

You stared at the message, then down at your lap.

The sunlight was still warm across your legs.

“…Memories,” you murmured.

You thought about the broken hanger. About the random snacks. About the toast. About the strange, perfect coffee art. About how this house, odd as it was, had taken care of you.

Even now.

Even after the dream.

You typed out a quick response:

You:

> Sure. I’ll be careful.

> And thank you.

You set the phone down and exhaled again, letting the warmth of the bed hold you just a little longer.

Nightmare may have rattled your bones, but the house, in its strange, loving way, was already stitching you back together.

The hallway stretched quiet and calm as you sipped the last of your coffee and approached the attic door. It was taller than you expected, old oak with a worn brass knob and hinges that looked like they hadn’t been oiled in years.

You reached for the handle.

CLICK!

Locked.

You jiggled it again, lightly rattling the knob. Nothing. You gave the door an annoyed squint and pulled your phone from your pocket.

YOU:

> Hey, the attic’s locked. Is there a key somewhere?

You barely had time to turn around before your phone buzzed again.

Homeowner:

> Whoops. Yep! That’s on me. Check the basement—Keith’s in there somewhere. He’s hard to miss, looks fancy. Let me know if you find him!

Keith?

You blinked, shrugged, and turned toward the basement stairs.

The basement was cool and dim, the air tinged with sawdust and the faint scent of oil. The light bulb overhead buzzed, flickering once before staying on. You made your way past tall shelves filled with tools and jars of screws until you reached the old wooden workbench tucked against the back wall.

And there it was.

A skeleton key, shining met with curling engravings. It sat on a worn patch of broken floor, resting with a kind of abandon that felt mean. Like someone just threw it down there with no regards as to where it went.

You picked it up.

It was heavier than you expected, warm against your palm. Old, but solid.

“…Huh,” you muttered.

You didn’t know why, but you felt… grateful. Like this key had been waiting for you. Like it wanted to be useful again.

Unseen, in the quiet world of the house’s true heart, Keith practically glowed.

“Finally!” he thought. “Someone gentle. Someone respectful. And they even used two hands… What a damn delight.”

Back upstairs, the attic door waited.

You slid the key into the lock, smooth as butter. The mechanism gave a soft click, and the door creaked open a few inches.

Sunlight flooded your face.

You blinked, squinting as warmth poured through the tall attic window, slicing through the dust like a spotlight. You pulled the door open further and turned to the table outside the bedroom, setting the key down gently.

"Thanks," you murmured, without even thinking.

Keith practically melted.

“Be still, my little notches… they said thank you…”

The attic air hit you as soon as you stepped in: stuffy and dry, thick with the smell of dust, old cardboard, and the faintest trace of something nostalgic. The kind of smell that reminded you of your childhood home, or your grandma’s closet, or a thrift store aisle where everything has a story.

The room was filled with quiet things.

Cardboard boxes stacked in rows. Some were labeled: Books, Seasonal, Old photos, Jamie’s stuff. One had no label at all, just a thick layer of dust on top.

There was a small fake plant near the door, slightly wilted despite being plastic. A canvas painting leaned against the wall. You caught yourself staring at it for a moment, like it was waiting for you to remember something you didn’t know you'd forgotten.

And in the far corner…

A safe.

Not old. Not dusty. Sleek. Black metal. Chrome handle. Digital keypad. Easily the most expensive-looking thing in the entire attic.

You furrowed your brow.

They really trusted you around that?

No lockbox. No warning. No instructions not to touch it.

Just sitting there, like it had nothing to hide.

You didn’t go near it yet. Just… noted it.

Strange.

But then again, this whole house had been strange since the moment you walked in.

Still, you had a job to do. You rolled up your sleeves and stepped deeper into the attic, ready to begin.

Behind you, the attic door creaked shut with a soft thud, and the light from the window shifted just slightly, as if adjusting for your presence.

And somewhere on the table outside the door, Keith sat proudly. Resting. Waiting.

And smiling.

You exhaled, hands on your hips, surveying the attic one last time.

Everything was back in its place: no, better than before.

Boxes were neatly restacked. Dust gently brushed away. Even the fake plant looked like it stood taller now, its leaves wiped clean and repositioned with care. The safe still sat untouched, undisturbed, respected.

But more than that… you’d hung the painting.

The lake scene, soft sunrise, still water, the kind of quiet beauty that felt like a memory whispered through glass. It now hung on the open attic wall where light struck it just right, like it belonged there all along.

You wiped the sweat from your brow and sighed through a tired smile.

That’s when it hit you.

Not sound. Not words.

But feeling.

A swell of deep, weighty gratitude pressed softly against your chest. Like someone had placed both hands over your heart and simply held you there for a second.

Unseen in the house’s quiet, unseen realm, Lady Memoria stirred.

She had watched you handle everything gently: lift boxes with care, dust old corners without judgment, return photographs to their places without reading the names aloud.

“They remembered,” she thought, eyes shimmering.

“Even though the memories aren’t theirs—they still remembered.“

“That’s all I ever wanted.”

And near the freshly hung painting, Artt felt warmth bloom in his canvas. Not just because he was on display, but because someone had looked at him like he mattered. Not like an old decoration. Not like forgotten wall filler.

But like a story worth seeing.

“I’m here,” he thought. “I’m finally… here.”

Back in the hallway, you rolled your shoulders and trudged to your room, legs sore and heart full. You gathered your clean clothes and padded toward the bathroom, feet practically dragging.

The second the shower turned on, you felt your bones melt.

Steam wrapped around you like a sigh of relief. The tile warmed under your feet. The water pressure was perfect: firm, not aggressive, and hot enough to untangle every knot in your shoulders. It hit all the right places, cascading down your back in waves.

You let your forehead rest against the cool tile for a moment, water running over you like it understood.

"...Okay," you whispered. "This? Worth it."

And beneath the stream, though you couldn’t hear him, Johnny Splash preened with pride.

“That’s right,” he thought, puffing up with bubbly confidence.

“Nobody showers like I give showers.“

“Excellence. Every. Time.”

He adjusted the temperature half a degree warmer without you noticing, because he knew you liked it just a little toastier near the end.

He was the MVP of water pressure. The unsung hero of long, tiring days.

You stayed under the stream longer than you meant to, breathing deep, letting everything fall away.

The attic. The dream. The safe.

Just steam, water, and quiet joy.

And Johnny?

Happy to serve.

The steam still clung to your skin as you stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung lazily over your shoulders, hair damp and cheeks flushed. You hadn’t even bothered with a full outfit: just a loose shirt and something soft to sleep in. The warmth from the shower was still in your bones.

You yawned as you padded down the hall, phone in one hand, rubbing your eye with the other.

That attic had taken forever. You hadn’t even realized how much time passed while you were up there. All the memories. All the dust. That painting. That safe.

But it was done.

You collapsed onto your bed with a tired groan, body sinking instantly into the perfect hold of Betty’s embrace. She adjusted around you without a word, like she’d been waiting: pillows shifting, blanket settling across your legs, mattress rising to meet your spine.

You grabbed your phone, snapped a quick picture of the attic from earlier: neat, glowing, peaceful, and sent it to the homeowner with a simple:

YOU:

> All cleaned. Hope it looks okay :)

You didn't expect a fast reply. But the DING came almost instantly.

Homeowner:

> It’s perfect. You handled it better than I hoped.

> Sending the extra $500 now. Thank you for being kind to the place.

A second later:

> Payment received - $500.

You blinked at the screen, lips twitching up into a tired smile.

“Nice.”

You set the phone on your nightstand and flopped fully under the covers, the day finally catching up to you. The weight of the attic. The heat of the shower. The strange pressure of the dream you were still trying to forget.

Even Curt and Rod stayed quiet tonight.

No teasing.

Just soft moonlight, and a curtain drawn halfway closed like it knew you needed less light this time.

The bed curled into your frame like a second skin, and your eyes slipped shut before you could even say goodnight.

But the house heard your silence.

And replied for you anyway.

Tags: @nightlark100 @stinkyboyfaliure @darlink-xoxo @pumpkincitrus @sweetly-sicken @owihitmyhead @emiko-chan-the-clown @glitch-05o2 @theblackberry @moonjellyfishie @irethepotato @shadowlover321 @gonegonethankyouuu @eternityofend @leathesimp @viennarambles @littlesliceofcheese @blu-brrys @ecao

[kaisentine]

LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE

mydeimos x reader ⚡︎ modern au (there’s no prophecy), cipher is cipher, spoiler alert : mydei is the true liar, everyone is probably on something or something, profanity, poorly written with little proofreading ⚡︎ sticky note . heh . . . was writing smth and realized i referenced something that is a way better idea

maybe you should’ve seen it coming with cipher laughing hysterically beside him, not even trying to stop herself from slapping her thighs from laughing so hard. you’d probably have the same reaction if you were in his situation.

“dear kephale, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” obviously you’re exaggerating his real expression (his face is stone cold and his stance is nothing more than him crossing his arms in what seems to be annoyance).

he looks at you and from where you’re standing, it looks like he’s a strict parent lecturing a child.

cipher has stopped laughing like a maniac but the soft giggles never cease, even when she speaks up. “oh, jeez! you should’ve been here like three minutes ago! we could’ve been laughing buddies.” she says in between gasps of air.

you raise an eyebrow.

what could mydei have said or done to get this reaction out of cipher? sure, it doesn’t take a lot for her to start laughing but you didn’t think you’d live to see the day that mydei could make her laugh.

“. . . why? what happened three minutes ago?” you gaze towards her in confusion. “ugh! if you were here at that time, i wouldn’t have to explain it to you . . .” she sighs a whine while shaking her head.

“i could probably laugh along with you if you’d just tell me . . .” you shake your head as well.

mydei doesn’t look too pleased with the either of you. if looks could kill, there would probably be crime scene investigators on spot right now.

cipher takes notice of his expression. “i’d so love to but your little boyfriend would probably kill me along with you.” what is she talking about boyfriend? never mind that—little? it’s funny because he towers over the both of you which is much more obvious with cipher by how she’s standing next to mydei.

now his gaze is solely on the cat-like woman. “for fucks sake, let that go already . . . don’t bring them into this.” you realize that’s the first time you heard his voice this entire conversation and it takes you aback for a second, it’s like you haven’t heard his voice in a million years.

“if you guys are just gonna keep me in the dark, i’d rather go to phainon or something.” it isn’t an empty threat because you were planning to visit him anyway but you couldn’t really call it a threat either way.

there’s contemplation glazing over cipher’s look.

.

.

.

“your little boyfie actually likes you!”

and she’s off running into another direction before you and mydei could even react. she’s already out of sight when he flinches with wide eyes. “don’t listen to a word she says, got it? she’s a dirty liar!” there’s something dark (betrayal) in his voice and he almost screeched that last part.

honestly, you don’t give it another thought after he starts chasing after her.

you wouldn’t put that lie past her. she’s lied about a million things and this is probably just another one of those lies.

sad, you wish it were true.

“uhm . . . okay.” you whisper to yourself.

you’re now with phainon at this cafe he wanted to try for a while. there isn’t much to talk about because you guys have talked about everything (you think) under the sun at this point.

then you suddenly remember what happened with cipher and mydei a few hours ago. “oh yeah, everyday i’m reminded cipher is a funny liar.” you quietly chuckle.

“what happened?” phainon looks up from the food he was very intensely eyeing. “she told me mydei likes me. her lies just get worse and worse to the point where i just find it funny.” you won’t even mention the way she calls mydei your boyfriend.

phainon’s lips press together like he’s trying not to laugh.

“oh no, yeah . . .” he takes a bite and continues talking with food in his mouth. “cipher is a really good liar. she could be telling the truth, though.” he shrugs. “i doubt it, mydei would probably bodyslam me with no hesitation. plus, if you knew, you’d probably tell me about it, right?”

“. . . uhhh sure.”

[munsonify]

finally happened 𓂃 continuation

pairing. joaquin torres x fem!reader

summary. when you realize that you definitely have romantic feelings towards joaquin, it’s hard to keep them stuffed down and hidden

content warnings. fluff, mentions of r going to a bar and getting drunk, r in a small dress+heels, flirty!joaquin & touchy!joaquin, kissing, swearing. not proofread

word count. 3300

confused and frustrated 𓂃 part one

a/n. man yall really wanted a part two!!! here you guys go!!! and also i don’t care if this progressed fast, i can do what i want cause it’s my writing lol

———

maybe sam was a little right.

nothing about how you feel is truly just friendly. the way your stomach flutters when he compliments you isn’t friendly, the way you yearn for his touch isn’t friendly. it certainly wasn’t friendly the way you look at him, either, the way you admire him and gaze at him hungrily. you were a little naive to think this was anything but romantic, needy. this realization washed over you in a slow wave the week after you’d spoke with sam. it wasn’t quite love, though. it was an admiration, a liking, a stomach full of butterflies type of feeling you had towards him. you were sure that the more time you spent with joaquin, however, that liking would turn into a love. especially if you kept dwelling on the crush.

with how inseparable you two had become, it was going to be difficult not to dwell on these feelings. you lived together for christ sake, you saw him nearly every day. everything from your internship and the way you always run into him and shadow him, to eating dinner together and seeing his belongings scattered in the living room reminded you of him and your now unwavering feelings towards the man. it was like a sickness you couldn’t quite shake no matter how hard you tried. and, as much as you liked thinking about joaquin and being around him, you wanted nothing more than to just forget about it, even for a moment.

that moment, you thought, came two mondays later, barely a week after your realization. you’d gotten a call from a friend of yours practically begging you to come out to a bar with everyone. you were quick to agree. not only did this give you the chance to take a few steps away from the situation, you were just handed an excuse to dress up. you’d been switching between casual, comfortable clothes for class and ironed out, perfectly placed professional wear you wore at your internship for the longest time. you were beyond grateful for this opportunity.

you picked out a small, tight black dress to wear. it fit you perfectly, hugging all the right places, showing off everything you had to offer. you did your makeup, too. for a brief second thought you were overdressed, standing in front of your mirror as you took one last look at yourself. you remembered quickly that your friends liked to dress up like you did, so those worries washed away quickly. it made you feel nice looking like this anyways, especially now that you didn’t get to do it as often.

rifling through your purse, you walked your way towards your heels, grabbing ahold of them the moment you confirmed your id and some cash was tucked away inside. you began your way out of your room without a second thought, bee-lining towards the kitchen table. you began tugging on your heels, securing the straps around your ankles, totally oblivious to your surroundings. it wasn’t until you’d stood up in search of your phone that joaquin’s presence was made known.

he’d stopped in his tracks the moment he’d seen you, forgetting right then and there what he’d come out for. his round, owlish as he stares at you for a few moments, watching as you turn around to face him. his lips quirked up into a smile at the sight of your face, arms crossing as he composes himself quickly. you braced yourself for teasing, knowing full well what he was like sometimes. you weren’t sure he’d ever seen you dolled up like this, so you expected a string of lighthearted jabs.

“what’re you so dressed up for?“ joaquin asked curiously. you shrugged at him, shoulders tensing a little at his intense gaze. you began feeling a little exposed, realizing just how small this dress truly was on you.

“just going to a bar with some friends, the ones from class,” you told him, offering him a small smile as you spoke. your hand fumbled with your purse nervously, trying your best not to seem too awkward.

“well you look beautiful,” joaquin told you, voice dripping with sincerity. his gaze stayed put on your face out of respect, eyes soft as he looks into yours. his words knocked all the air out of your lungs, capturing your voice in your throat briefly. this was the last thing you’d expected him to say, let alone so genuinely. he’d never complimented you like this before.

“thanks, joaquin,” you mumbled out, trying hard not to fold under his stare. you must look pitiful, doe eyed and flustered at just one simple compliment. it meant a lot coming from him, especially now that you’d established your feelings for him.

“of course,” he told you, finally finding it in himself to walk the rest of the way into the kitchen. “if you need a way home you call me, okay?”

“yeah, yeah okay,” you nodded, words stumbling out of your mouth quickly. right then, as if sensing the tension in the room, your phone began to ring. it was your friend calling to alert you that they were there to pick you up. you bid joaquin a swift goodbye, waving your fingers at him, before pushing yourself out the front door. you were going to need to work overtime tonight to take your mind off what had just happened.

sam wasn’t helping you in the slightest. you’d been able to avoid confronting the situation with anybody so far. your friends were in the dark, and so was joaquin. you wanted to keep it that way for now, dodging every bullet hurdling towards you - which, by the way, was difficult to do when your very drunk friends were asking a very drunk you about your romantic life. despite that, it seemed to be even more glaringly obvious than before. it was just two days after joaquin’s compliment, an early wednesday morning. his words were rattling inside of your brain since.

the moment sam found you two, he dragged you guys into a room full of computers, desperate for some sort of help. with whatever information he had to give you, debriefing you on a mission he was preparing for, the three of you began typing away. it was an incredible opportunity to be able to work this closely with sam.

when the conversation fell silent - something that came on naturally, everyone’s focus falling onto the computers in front of them -, an argument could be heard a few rooms down. for a military base, you would think the walls would be a little thicker, more protective. much to your pleasure, they were not, granting you the opportunity to hear the tail end of a rather heated discussion.

“i have never met someone more frustrating than you!” was the last thing said before loud stomps echoed down the halls, diminishing into faint steps far away. while you were able to bite back smiles at first, it was hard to contain them when joaquin decided to pile onto it in a small, quiet whisper.

“do you guys think he’s frustrated?”

a spout of small, quiet giggles fell from your lips at his words, ones that were almost a little too giddy. you’d been tense and a little on edge all week, afraid that you were being obvious with your feelings. in turn, just by simply overthinking it, you were doing exactly what you feared. more than you would’ve if you just stayed out of your own head. thankfully, sam was laughing too.

joaquin had a proud sort of look on his face when you two laughed, head lifting up to look at you guys. his eyes lingered on you longer than they did on sam, something you hadn’t caught. you were too preoccupied with trying to contain your laughter to notice. this is another thing you admired about him. he never failed to make you smile, to raise the mood in any given room. even if the comment was silly, it always brought a smile to peoples faces.

a rather loud knock on the door stopped the laughter for good, the sound dying down as it opens up. it was someone who, again, needed joaquin’s help. he liked being of assistance, especially when he got to show off what he knows. that’s why he so eagerly got up and dismissed himself, occupying himself with whatever needed his attention. your eyes followed him out of the room, a small smile playing on your lips still as he walked away.

“no feelings, huh?” sam asked, breaking the silence as he stares you down. you blink a few quick times as you process what he’s said, head turning to look at him. you were going to protest again, to deny the feelings you now knew were there. though, as if he could sense it, he interjected before you could. “i’m just saying, you don’t look at anyone else the way you look at him. you wouldn’t have laughed like that if i made that corny ass joke.”

you still thought about denying it. you thought that if you tried to say no, to claim those feelings weren’t there, that they’d disappear. the way sam was looking at you, like he could see right through you, had you telling on yourself. “maybe there are feelings. just a little.”

sam smiled at your admission, small and proud, as he leans back in his chair. the two of you were facing each other now, the only thing separating you two was joaquin’s empty chair. you watched as he crossed his arms, seemingly deep in thought as he carefully treads forward with his words. this may not be his secret to tell, but he tells it anyway. he couldn’t quite help himself.

“he cares about you a lot,” sam starts in a quiet tone, as if handing you details to a top-secret mission no one else can know about. “he talks about you constantly, about how proud of you he is and how cool he thinks you are.”

“really?” you perk up slightly, eyes lighting up at sam’s words. you try not to hold onto them, to cling to something that may mean nothing. you try not to show your hopefulness, either, though you were never one to be good at hiding how you feel. “he says that?”

“yeah, all the time,” he affirms, heading nodding quickly. sam smiles again as he thinks some more, forehead creasing. “he wouldn’t shut up about how beautiful you looked monday night. i don’t think he realizes how much he likes you though, he’s almost as idiotic as you are.”

despite how casually sam says it, and despite the lighthearted insult he’d tossed your way, your heartbeat quickens at his words, heat rushing up to your face. joaquin wasn’t one to shy away from speaking up, from telling you what’s on his mind. so, sure, he’d complimented you on your way out of the apartment. and sure, you were still clinging to it. that didn’t change the fact that he doubled down on that praise to someone else, letting it be known what he thought of you. that’s when he’d decided to grace you two with his presence again, sam gave you that same knowing look he gave you friday, before turning back to his computer.

as he sat down, joaquin gave you a large grin, swiveling around to face you much like the man beside him had been moments before. he nudged his knee against your gently, eyes shimmering over at you. did he always look at you that way? or were sam’s words getting to you?

“movie night tonight? your choice,” he asked expectantly, waiting eagerly awaiting your response. you gawked at him the moment the last two words left his mouth, eyes widening at him.

“no way you’re letting me choose,” you say. “you always fight me on it!”

“i don’t always fight you on it,” joaquin defended quickly, jaw going slack for a brief moment in a fake sort of offense. “besides, i chose the last two times. it’s only right you get a turn.”

“what a gentleman,” you deadpanned, finally turning back to the computer in front of you to continue your research alongside sam. joaquin followed suit, rolling his eyes at your comment. still, there were small smiles on your faces, content yet desperately trying to hide.

“damn straight.”

joaquin stayed true to his words. he did, in fact, let you pick the movie. it’s not like he was able to backtrack, not when you looked so excited as you put it on. you had the biggest grin on your face as you cozied up on the couch beside him. only you would be so excited to watch a horror movie.

the two of you stayed on your respective sides of the couch for the first quarter of the movie, the same side you’d always sat on. there was practically a permanent imprint of the two of you against the couch, molded perfectly to your bodies. it was very rare you would deviate from these seats. one of those rare occasions just so happened to be tonight.

your frigid body didn’t go unseen by joaquin. he noticed the way you tensed up, a little nervous as you curled up further into the couch. his eyes caught the way you tried to shy away from the screen, even if you knew it wasn’t real. as much as you loved horror movies, they still got to you sometimes. his teasing manner came back to him for just a moment when he noticed.

“don’t tell me you’re scared,” he whispered, head turning to look at you fully. the glare you’d thrown his way was unmissable, eyebrows furrowed together, lips downwards in a very slight frown. you tried shaking your head no, denying your rather obvious scared expression, though it was no use.

as if it was the most natural thing in the world, joaquin opened his arms up, hands waving you towards him. he didn’t continue his teasing, he simply ushered you towards him. with hesitation, you obliged, slowly making your way towards him. the way you settled next to him, body tucking into his side with an arm slung around you, felt natural. your head found its way to his shoulder carefully, feeling him adjust a little more comfortably, before settling down fully next to you. you were quick to follow, finding yourself comfortable in his embrace much like you had last week.

joaquin was just as warm and smelled just as nice as you remembered. his body was steady and broad against yours. this certainly took your mind off of how scary the movie had become. at first, you were engulfed in your thoughts again. he was so close to you, breathing steadily and focusing intently on the movie. his kindness was overwhelming sometimes, endearing and all-consuming. everything he said and everything he did, even if unintentional, had you practically swooning for him.

even when you weren’t thinking about him, finally bringing your focus back to the movie, you didn’t feel nearly as scared as before. joaquin comforted you in a way you didn’t know was possible, even through your frustrating feelings. that’s why you’d found it so difficult to pull away from him by the end of the movie. you didn’t want to leave his hold - something that was new and welcoming -, a warmth you wanted to cling to for forever. it was a blessing he didn’t pull away quick. he simply exited the movies credits, arm still slung around you.

“was the movie at least worth it?” joaquin asked in a low whisper, teasing you again slightly. you turned your head to look up at him, chin moving to rest on his shoulder now. he turned his head, too, faces suddenly inches apart. you expected him to move away, to pull back now and realize how close the two of you were. you were once again proven wrong by him.

“yeah, it was worth it,” you whispered back, eyes locking with his as you spoke. while the movie was good, that’s not quite what you meant when you said it was worth it. if you hadn’t been such a wimp, there wasn’t a chance on earth you’d be in this situation right now, cozied up next to him. joaquin smiled small and happy, hand releasing the remote to reach up to your face. he tucked hair away from your eyes, smoothing it back away from your line of sight in the most gentle way. what happened next was simply instinct.

one of your hands found its way to the side of joaquin’s neck, cradling carefully as your eyes flickered down to his lips. and just like that, they’d fluttered closed, closing the distance between the two of you. your lips found his in a light, quick peck, realizing quickly what you’d just done. you weren’t sure where you’d gotten the nerve or the confidence from, and you wish you hadn’t found it.

“i’m so sorry,” you told him, words flying out of your mouth as you began pulling away. your feelings had bubbled up to something unbearable inside of you. you were rather horrible at keeping those things a secret, and it certainly didn’t help that joaquin was so kind. all of his compliments he’d been giving you, all of the sweet things he’d said to sam about you, had you all up in your head. you wanted to say more, to continue to apologize profusely, however, you were stopped just as quickly as you began. joaquin’s hand smoothed its way to the back of your head, cradling it as he pulls you closer again. your lips met once more, this time for a much longer kiss. it left you breathless, successfully shutting you up when he finally pulls away.

when your eyes flutter back open, you’re met with joaquin’s, barely open and looking at you patiently. giggles ripple through both of your chests upon eye contact, your body leaning back into his. his hand continued to cradle the back of your head, thumb rubbing against your hair soothingly.

“i should’ve done that on monday,” joaquin told you, leaning to rest his forehead against yours. “you looked so beautiful, it’s all i could think about.”

“you poor thing,” you whispered, fingers trailing down to mess with the chain for his dog tags. it was your turn to tease, something you were glad to finally get back at him for. “it’s all i’ve been able to think about for like a week and a half.”

joaquin thought back, eventually landing on that saturday you’d been a little off. it all started to click for him. you weren’t just tired from that week, and you weren’t just being standoffish for no reason. he cracked another smile at the memory, everything beginning to fall into place. all of the times you seemed flustered or nervous around him all made sense now. you weren’t simply hiding something you couldn’t quite communicate.

“how did you survive that long?” joaquin asked dramatically, eyes still gazing into yours. “i can’t even imagine. that must’ve been torture not kissing me.”

you let go of his dog tags just to flick his chest, eyes rolling as you pull away from him. he didn’t let you go far, arms wrapping around you and pulling you back close to his body. you let him, shaking your head at his absurdity. “don’t flatter yourself.”

all of your second guesses seemed a little dumb now. the banter you two had didn’t change in the slightest. your admiration and friendship didn’t suddenly disappear. and, while your relationship shifted romantically, it was still you and joaquin. nothing was going to change that.

———

tagging people who were wanting a pt 2 :). @still-scribblin @saintbusan @clonesdserveb3tter @fayxv

[batsandbirdbrains]

while I do like the idea of everyone being reminded dick is a kid because of how he reacts to gory shit, i also really like the idea of dick being wayyyy too nonchalant around gory shit. like first of all, he grew up in a traveling circus that had a bunch of big ass animals and other stuff, i’m sure his parents death wasn’t the first injury/death/accident that happened. plus they weren’t exactly wealthy, im sure they had to stay in some not nice areas and they might’ve witnessed shady shit too. then comes the fact that he saw his parents fall and likely saw their corpses at some point, and he probably sees them every time he has nightmares.

so maybe the gcpd, the rogues, and bruce are all reminded that dick is a kid when acts too stoic about shit he shouldn’t.

like he witnesses the aftermath of bane’s murder spree, and there’s officers retching and crying, and even bruce has to take a moment to collect himself, but then dick just tilts his head and furrows his brows as he takes in the scene. he’s upset obviously, but he’s still trying to do his job. when he’s robin, he puts his job first and focuses on helping people, and if that means not reacting to gruesome shit, then so be it. but now everyone is looking at this nine year old, gordon is snapping at bruce to get him out of there, and dick just says “it’s fine, i can help.” there all horrified, bruce even more so because now it’s really hitting him that he’s letting his nine year because desensitized to such violence and holy shit dick is only NINE.

I think regardless of whether Dick reacts either stoically or sobbing, Gordon should be pissed at Batman either way. He doesn’t like Robin being brought into this life, he doesn’t like watching a little kid be thrown into these situations, and he doesn’t like that there’s nothing he can really do about it.

Maybe Batman is on the other side of the room of a gruesome murder scene, and Jim sees Robin standing nearby. And he’s so angry, because Robin is probably only a year or so younger than his little Barbara, and the thought of his daughter seeing this room makes him want to hurl. So he stomps over to Robin, lifts him up, and carries him out of the room.

If he’d been frozen in shock or fear, he’d cling to Jim and not let go, and Jim would comfort him while his officers pretend not to watch, then he’d tear Batman a new one when he finally stepped out and realized Robin wasn’t with him anymore.

If Robin had been stoic and desensitized, he’d probably whine as he twists in Jim’s arms, an annoyed little, “Hey! Pumme down!” leaving his mouth as Jim carries him into the hall.

“I don’t want you to see stuff like that, Robin.”

“I’ve seen way worse!”

And Jim’s heart breaks.

“That’s not a good thing, Robin,” he tells him softly. “You shouldn’t have to. My job is to make sure kids like you don’t have to see stuff like this.”

Robin is pouting, but he understands. So he just wraps his arms around Jim’s neck and starts chatting about something else.

[bbywhitefox123]

rafe and Catherine giving the birds and bees talk to mason and Bradley

Summary: rafe has the talk with mason and bradley after catherine caught mason watchimg porn.

Warnings: idk

Masterlist

Catherine didn’t scream when she opened Mason’s door. She didn’t slam it, didn’t throw the laundry basket across the room — though she really, really wanted to. Instead, she stood frozen for three full seconds, staring in horror as her fourteen-year-old son fumbled to close his laptop and pull the covers over himself, looking like a deer in headlights and red as a tomato.

“Jesus Christ, Mason!” she hissed, spinning on her heel and practically speed-walking out of the room like the walls were on fire.

The laundry stayed on his floor. She would never go back in there. That space was dead to her now.

That night, she was still pale and shaky as she sat on the bed, arms crossed, legs tucked under her silk robe. Rafe had just gotten out of the shower, towel slung low on his hips, rubbing his hair dry when she said: “I caught Mason. Watching porn.”

Rafe blinked. “…Like, porn porn?”

Catherine leveled him with a look. “Do you think there’s a softer version of porn he could’ve been watching?”

And then, to her complete disbelief—he laughed. Loud. Big, chest-deep laugh, like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all year.

“Rafe,” she warned, horrified. “It’s not funny! He’s fourteen! He’s still supposed to be into Legos or—whatever. Not—videos of people doing God-knows-what to each other.”

“He’s fourteen,” Rafe said, flopping back onto the bed, still grinning. “You know what I was doing at fourteen?”

“Don’t you dare tell me—”

“Doing a lot worse than watching porn,” he said smugly. “At least he’s not doing it in public.”

Catherine groaned, burying her face in a pillow. “I’m traumatized, Rafe. I saw things. I saw him. I can never unsee it.”

“You walked in on your son being a normal hormonal teenager,” Rafe said, then paused, thoughtful. “Could’ve been worse. He could’ve been watching it on the TV. Speakers on.”

Catherine rolled her eyes, but underneath it all, she was trying not to laugh. “What are we gonna do? Just ignore it?”

Rafe looked over at her. “Nah. I think it’s time.”

“Time for what?”

“The talk.”

“The—oh God.” She covered her face again. “The talk. The birds and the bees? I was hoping I could skip that and just let Sex-Ed do its job.”

“Babe,” Rafe said gently, “you’ve got two teenage boys. You think you can avoid it for much longer?”

“I was hoping we’d make it to college.”

Rafe chuckled again and stretched an arm behind his head. “I’ll talk to them. You want me to?”

“No, but I don’t want to talk to them either,” Catherine said. “Just don’t say anything scarring. Or detailed. Or—Rafe!—don’t tell them your stories. You were a menace.”

“I’ll keep it PG-13,” he promised, smirking. “Just enough to make them uncomfortable.”

“Please make it educational,” she muttered.

There was a beat of silence. Then Catherine sighed dramatically and flopped against his chest. “Our baby was watching porn.”

“Our baby’s taller than you now.”

She groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

🌥️

Rafe sat at the kitchen table with his second cup of coffee, bracing himself. He’d already sent Catherine out for a “walk” to their bedroom that suspiciously involved noise-canceling headphones and iced coffee. Which meant he was alone. With the boys. And the talk.

“Mason! Brad! Downstairs. Now,” he called.

Thudding footsteps followed. Mason strolled in first, tall and self-assured, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl like this was a team huddle. Bradley trailed behind, holding a book and looking vaguely nervous.

“Why do you sound like someone died?” Mason asked, crunching into his apple.

“Because something did,” Rafe muttered, then nodded at the chairs. “Sit. Both of you.”

They sat.

Bradley glanced around. “Are we in trouble?”

“Nope,” Rafe said. “This is… educational.”

Mason’s grin spread. “Shi— Yes. Is this the talk?”

“Yep,” Rafe said. “Birds, bees, anatomy, respect, real stuff. Figured it’s time.”

Mason leaned back. “I mean, Dad… you do know I know things.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What kind of things?”

“I’m not twelve,” Mason said. “I’ve been online. I’ve had Sex-Ed. I know where our stuff goes.”

Bradley made a face. “Please don’t say it like that.”

Mason laughed. “I’m just saying—I’m informed.”

“Being ‘informed’ isn’t the same as being smart about it,” Rafe said. “So shut up and listen.”

He turned to Bradley, who was fidgeting with the corner of his hoodie.

“You okay, bud?”

Bradley shrugged. “I just think it’s weird we’re calling it the birds and the bees. Birds don’t—like—have penises. And bees reproduce asexually sometimes.”

Rafe blinked. “What?”

“I read it in this book called—.”

Mason groaned. “Bro.”

“Okay,” Rafe said, dragging a hand down his face. “This isn’t about birds. Or bees. It’s about people. Human beings. Which includes you two knuckleheads.”

Bradley blinked. “But not you?”

Rafe smirked. “I’m a retired knucklehead. Let me talk.”

He looked between them, serious now.

“Look, you’re both growing up. Things change. You start noticing people in different ways. You’re curious. And honestly? That’s normal.”

Mason nodded like he was a seasoned vet. “Yep.”

“But what matters,” Rafe continued, “is respect. Consent. Communication. It’s not just about sex—it’s about being ready, being smart, and not being a jerk.”

Bradley raised a hand. “So… like… what if someone likes you, but you don’t like them back?”

Mason snorted. “That’s never been my problem.”

“Zip it,” Rafe said. “That’s a good question. You don’t lead people on. You’re honest. And respectful. Got it?”

Bradley nodded slowly.

“And Mason,” Rafe turned. “Don’t confuse confidence with knowing everything. Be safe. Ask questions if you need to. Don’t act like a know-it-all just because you watch p— things on the internet.”

Mason gave a lazy salute. “Got it, General.”

Rafe stood, clapped them both on the back. “Alright. Talk over. Go back to whatever you were doing. Just don’t be idiots, okay?”

Bradley went for his book. Mason tossed the apple core in the trash.

“Hey, Dad?” Mason called as he walked off.

“Yeah?”

“…So is it true that girls can—like—squirt?”

Bradley screamed.

Rafe nearly dropped his coffee. “Uh— Yeah— Wait, no. Okay! That’s it. Ask your mother.”

“No!” came Catherine’s voice from somewhere upstairs. “Absolutely not!”

Rafe winced, turning toward the ceiling like he could see through it. “Baby—”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me. You said you were going to keep it simple!”

The boys froze.

Bradley looked horrified. “She heard us?”

Mason just shrugged. “She hears everything.”

A second later, Catherine stomped halfway down the stairs, wearing an expression of pure maternal betrayal. Her eyes zeroed in on Rafe.

“You were supposed to talk about condoms, respect, communication—not—” she waved vaguely in the air, “that.”

“It was a question!” Rafe said, hands raised in defense. “He asked. I panicked.”

Mason, not even sorry, lifted a hand. “To be fair, it was a good question.”

“No, it was not!” Catherine barked. “You are fourteen.”

“You should be flattered,” Rafe muttered, trying not to laugh. “It means he’s not afraid to ask—”

“I am afraid!” Bradley cut in. “I need therapy!”

Catherine pointed at him, wide-eyed. “See?! Traumatized!”

“I handled it,” Rafe insisted. “It was fine. I gave them the talk. I was educational. I used phrases like ‘communication’ and ‘knucklehead.’ I was very fatherly.”

“You let Mason ask if girls squirt!”

Rafe’s mouth opened—then closed.

Mason smirked. “Dad said I should ask you.”

Bradley, flatly: “Why would you say that?”

Rafe was already backing toward the stairs. “I panicked! I thought she was asleep!”

Catherine narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I was asleep. Until someone decided to have a frat house conversation on speaker volume.”

“Can I go now?” Bradley asked desperately.

“No,” Rafe and Catherine said in unison.

Then Mason raised his hand again. “Okay, but like, since we’re all here—”

“Don’t.” Catherine glared. “Not another word.”

He slowly lowered his hand.

Catherine sighed and finally looked at both boys. “Look. Sex isn’t just something that happens in movies or in locker rooms. It’s personal. It’s emotional. It can be messy—figuratively and literally.”

Bradley turned green. “I hate this,” he whispered.

Rafe clapped both boys on the back again. “Alright, we’ve done our part. You’ve been educated.”

“Lunch will be ready in an hour,” Catherine said dryly.

“Can I have mine earlier?,” Rafe muttered under his breath with a smirk, his hand sneaking around her waist.

“RAFE!”

🌥️

Sunday Lunch at the Cameron House was the one sacred time in the Cameron household where nobody screamed, threw food, or cried over a broken iPad.

For about six minutes.

The table was filled with plates of roast chicken, potatoes, and salad that Lara claimed to hate but still ate, sulking. Maisie was humming to herself, dipping a dinner roll into her juice for no reason except that she could.

Catherine took a deep breath, savoring the moment of silence.

Rafe carved another piece of chicken, passed it to Mason.

And then—

“Hey, Dad,” Mason said, totally casually. “Can I get a condom?”

Catherine choked on her water. Bradley froze mid-bite. Lara dropped her fork.

Maisie blinked. “What’s a condom?”

“No,” Catherine said immediately, pointing her fork at Mason. “No. Absolutely not. We are not doing this at the table.”

Rafe cleared his throat. “Uh—”

Mason shrugged, chewing like he hadn’t just dropped a grenade. “What? I’m being responsible. That’s what the talk was about, right?”

“It was about not asking for condoms next to the mashed potatoes!” Catherine snapped.

Bradley stared down at his plate like it could transport him somewhere else. “Can I be homeschooled?”

Lara looked at Catherine. “What’s a condom?”

“It’s a raincoat,” Catherine said flatly.

Maisie nodded. “I thought so.”

Rafe held up both hands. “Okay, okay—let’s calm down. Mason’s not in trouble. I mean… yeah. It’s awkward, but it’s also good he’s thinking responsibly.”

“Thank you,” Mason said smugly.

“Don’t thank him!” Catherine hissed.

“I didn’t say you could use it,” Rafe added, stabbing a potato. “I said you could have one.”

Catherine stared at him. “What is wrong with you?”

Bradley, deadpan: “You’re all insane.”

Maisie poked at her roll. “I still wanna know why a raincoat is bad.”

Mason leaned back in his chair, poking at his chicken like he was just musing out loud.

“So… I shouldn’t use one?” he said casually. “Got it. Very responsible.”

Catherine snapped her neck toward him. “What?! No! Mason—use one! Always!”

Bradley looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “Can I eat somewhere else? Like in another country?”

Rafe rubbed his hand down his face. “Mason. That’s not what I said.”

“You literally said—”

“I meant—” Rafe glanced at Catherine, who was giving him the death glare of all death glares. “I meant you can have one, but you can’t just go—go using it like a hobby. It’s not a fidget toy.”

Lara, chewing slowly, narrowed her eyes. “So if it’s not a raincoat, what is it?”

Maisie chimed in. “Is it something Mason shouldn’t be trusted with?”

“Correct,” Catherine and Rafe said at the same time.

“Okay, good,” Maisie nodded, picking up her roll again. “Then I won’t ask to borrow it.”

“OH MY GOD,” Bradley muttered, pushing his plate away.

Mason, totally unbothered, took another bite. “Glad we cleared that up.”

Catherine stood up, having had enough. “Rafe. Kitchen. Now.”

Rafe glanced at the kids—Mason was still chewing like nothing was wrong, Bradley was lowkey traumatized, and Maisie was now making a napkin hat for her juice box.

“Y’all finish lunch,” he muttered, standing.

He followed Catherine into the kitchen.

She whipped around the second they were far away from the kids.

“He’s just like you.”

Rafe blinked. “Mason?”

“Yes, Mason. God, Rafe, if you don’t talk some sense into that boy, he’s gonna end up just like we did—begging to hit it raw and then a baby daddy at nineteen!”

Rafe scratched the back of his neck. “Technically, you were the one who told me—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.”

He wisely didn’t.

Catherine crossed her arms, pacing the tiles. “I mean, did you see how smug he was? ‘So I shouldn’t use one? Got it.’ Like this is a game. It’s not a game, it’s sperm and consequences!”

Rafe bit his lip, trying not to laugh. “Sperm and consequences?”

“Don’t make fun of me, I’m panicking.”

He stepped forward, hands on her waist. “Hey. Hey. Look. He’s not that bad.”

“He’s fourteen and trying to flirt with adult responsibility like he’s got a clue. You know that look in his eye? That reckless, cocky, Cameron thing? That’s you, Rafe.”

“…Kinda proud of him, actually.”

She smacked his chest.

“Talk to him, Rafe. I’m not doing grandbaby math at thirty-seven.”

“Alright,” he nodded, hands up in surrender. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Catherine sighed, leaning into him, her forehead against his shoulder. “God help me, I love you both. But you’re going to be the death of me.”

Rafe kissed the top of her head.

“We’ll just make sure the next one gets some of your genes too.”

Catherine pulled back just slightly, enough to look up at him, brows lifting. “Next one?”

Rafe gave her that cocky, boyish grin—the one that got them into most of their messes to begin with.

“I mean…” he shrugged, casual as hell. “You’re not on the pill. I’ve been raw dogging it for like years now. Odds aren’t exactly in our favor.”

Catherine blinked. “You absolute idiot.”

“A very sexy, fertile idiot,” he corrected, smirking.

She groaned, but there was a flush rising to her cheeks. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Rafe leaned in, murmuring against her jaw.

“You love me. You love this chaos. You loved it at seventeen, and you love it now.”

“Yeah, well,” she muttered, even as her fingers curled into his t-shirt. “At seventeen I didn’t have stretch marks and four children.”

“At seventeen you didn’t have that ass either.”

She swatted him, hard. “We are not making another one.”

He kissed her, slow and smug. “Too late, probably.”

She stared at him, breathless and flushed, and then laughed. Rafe grinned.

Then, from the dining room Mason yelled “Bradley just asked Siri what ‘pre-cum’ is!”

Catherine groaned and shoved Rafe toward the door.

“Now. Go be the parent you’re so good at pretending to be.”

Rafe gave her one last kiss on the cheek before heading out. “On it, Mrs. Cameron.”

☁️

The room was dark except for the soft blue glow of a galaxy projector spinning lazily on the ceiling. Mason was sprawled on his bed, hoodie still on, one leg hanging off the mattress. Bradley sat cross-legged with his headphones in, probably watching some documentary about neurons or frogs that give birth through their mouths.

Rafe knocked once and pushed the door open. “Alright. Time to talk.”

Mason pulled his headphones out. “I thought we already did talk.”

Bradley looked up and groaned immediately. “Please, no. I just recovered from lunch.”

Rafe pointed at him. “Which is why you’re leaving.”

“What?! Why do I have to leave?” Bradley protested, scandalized. “I’m the responsible one!”

“Exactly,” Rafe said. “You don’t need this conversation. You’ll be a virgin until you’re twenty-five and married to a biologist.”

Mason cackled. “You so would.”

Bradley shoved his pillow at Mason before stomping out dramatically.

“If I hear anything inappropriate, I’m telling Mom!”

Rafe waited for the door to close behind him before turning to Mason, who was already sitting up and grinning.

“So,” Mason said, rubbing his hands together like this was his meeting. “Let’s talk condoms. And positions. Also, is it true that—”

“Nope. We’re not doing a Reddit thread,” Rafe said, raising a hand. “I’m here to make sure you’re not an idiot, not give you a subscription to Playboy Premium.”

Mason leaned back smugly, arms behind his head. “I mean, I already know most of this stuff. Me and uncle Topper watched—”

“Jesus, don’t finish that sentence.”

“Relax, dad,” Mason laughed. “I’m not gonna do anything stupid.”

“Famous last words before your mother ends up pacing the kitchen saying you’re just like me.”

Mason smirked. “I am just like you.”

Rafe sighed. “I know. That’s what keeps me up at night.”

“So… does that mean I can have my own room?” Mason asked casually, like it was nothing. “Y’know, for when I bring girls over?”

Rafe blinked. “When you bring girls over?”

“Yeah,” Mason said, all confidence. “I mean, I’m basically at that age.”

“You’re fourteen, Mason.”

Mason shrugged. “You were younger when you started hooking up with girls.”

Rafe’s jaw dropped. “How do you know that?!”

“Uncle Top.”

“You’re not getting your own room so you can turn it into a frat house. If anyone’s sneaking girls into this house, it’ll be me and your mom—because this is our house.”

Mason grinned wide. “So you’re saying I have to sneak them in. Got it.”

Rafe groaned and rubbed his face. “I’m going to lose all my hair.”

“Want me to text you if anything happens so you don’t walk in or something?”

“No! I want you to go to sleep and focus on math and not getting anyone pregnant.”

Mason pulled the covers up like he was tucking in for a bedtime story. “Can’t make any promises.”

Rafe pointed at him on the way out.

“You better. Because if you think I’m scary, wait until your mother finds out you’re asking for condoms and room keys like it’s a damn hotel.”

Mason smirked, and Rafe slammed the door behind him.

Bradley sat just beside the boys’ bedroom door, knees pulled to his chest, his tablet glowing in the dark as a narrator softly explained cellular mitosis. He didn’t even flinch when Rafe stepped out — just looked up like he’d been expecting him.

“He’s gonna do it anyway,” Bradley said, voice quiet. “Even if you say no.”

Rafe exhaled, heavy, leaning against the wall beside him. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Bradley turned the tablet screen off and looked up at his dad. “He thinks it’s a joke.”

Rafe nodded. “He does.”

There was a long pause. The house felt too quiet, like the calm before another storm.

“I don’t think it’s funny,” Brad added. “You were a senior when you started with Mom, right? That’s five years from now for me to be your age when it happened.”

Rafe rubbed his hands over his face, guilt knotting deep in his chest. “Yeah.”

“Did you ever want something else?” Brad asked.

Rafe turned to look at him, eyes a little more tired now. “Yeah,” he said. “I did. I wanted a lot of things I never got to try.”

“Because of me?” Brad asked.

That question hit Rafe straight in the gut.

He crouched down in front of his son, hands on his knees.

“No,” Rafe said, firm. “Never because of you. Or Mason. Or any of you. I don’t regret having you. But I do regret… not being smarter about when. And how.”

Bradley blinked. “Mason doesn’t get that, does he?”

Rafe gave a tired laugh. “No. He thinks being like me is cool, a joke. But I lived that joke and it wasn’t funny.”

“So… I shouldn’t be like him?”

Rafe looked his son straight in the eye.

“Be better than him. Be better than me. You’ve got the brains for it, and you’ve got time. Don’t blow it trying to be a grown-up too fast.”

Bradley nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Rafe reached out and ruffled his hair — something Mason never let him do anymore — and stood back up.

“Get some sleep, Einstein. You’ve got school tomorrow.”

Bradley smiled a little. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, bud.”

As Rafe walked down the hall toward his and Catherine’s room, he glanced back at the closed door to Mason’s room. For a second, all he saw was himself — drunk, high, reckless, stubborn — thinking life would always bend to him.

But it didn’t.

It bent for Catherine. For the baby. For the choices Rafe made too young with no plan. And he’d do it all again for his family, but God, he hoped Mason didn’t have to.

Not like that.

[kiraplex]

hii! can i please request baking with mark and oliver headcannons? thank you!

Headcanons + small ficlet of Mark and Oliver baking with a gn!reader who is marks partner :)

A/n: thank you so much for the request!! This was sososos cute :) I responded to this particular request very fast because when I sat down to write I was very tired and didn’t feel like writing anything heavy, and this was super cute! It’s also quite a short response sorry .. im sorry if you didn’t want reader to be marks partner, that’s just how I read the prompt for some reason.

W/c: Headcanons: 580 , Ficlet: 405

I’m assuming for this that you know about Oliver’s secret identity as well as Marks, but if you didn’t you certainly do now!!

The kid gets so excited when he hears you’re making cookies together he jumps in the air and just forgets to land.

I don’t think he’s ever baked before so of course he’s going to get excited!! 

He’s only a few months old technically, and during his time on earth he’s just never got the opportunity to bake cookies. Debbie is busy a lot with real estate work and Paul, and the babysitter never does fun stuff like that with him, only math and boring homework.

So he’s ecstatic to be able to bake with two of his favourite people :) I think you’re like an honorary big sibling to him especially if you spend a lot of time at home with mark.

Mark has to remind him that he can’t fly in front of people even if it IS you

“But you flew them into your room through the window last night!”

The subject is quickly changed.

The boys bicker a lot so you have to be somewhat of a mediator. Oliver says he wants to bake something extravagant like a cake, and the two of you have to convince him to tone it down a little for you guys first try. Mark isn’t confident with his nor Oliver’s baking ability.

Eventually you guys decide on cookies! Should be simple enough.

(Spoiler alert: it isn’t simple)

When it comes to mixing the wet ingredients Oliver tries to show off and ends up mixing the bowl so hard that the liquid splashes out and gets on the floor and the wallpaper too and it has to be cleaned up by either you or mark, naturally.

He didn’t mean to!! It was an accident.

The entire process is very messy and takes a lot longer than it should between bickering and having to clean up the various messes that you guys (mostly Oliver) end up making.

At one point he manages to explode an entire bag of flour over you all by dropping it.

It’s not all a disaster!! You’re all laughing about it and you and mark get a very sweet moment where he wipes the flour off your face, before Oliver interrupts and tells you to stop doing weird mating rituals in the kitchen. 

He’s still not quite grasped typical etiquette.

When the cookies are in the oven you and mark spend the time tidying up and cleaning up.

You give Oliver the mixing bowl and spoon to lick out and he’s so happy!! It’s so good, why can’t you all bake cookies every day? 

Nevertheless the cookies turn out well :) lots of chocolate chips in them.

Oliver tries to eat one before they’ve cooled down and almost ends up burning himself from grabbing the hot cookie. He’s totally fine, it’s just a bit of a shock. He makes you or mark test the temperature of the cookies before he dares to pick one up again.

After you clean up and the cookies have cooled enough I think you share them with Debbie after she gets home from work and it’s very sweet :)

You all sit in the couch area and watch something on tv while you eat and relax together. 

I really liked this prompt and felt like my headcanons were kind of short so I wrote a short ficlet of it too :)

Oliver laughed loudly as he hovered in the air at about your eye level, holding the unopened bag of flour under one arm, the other clutching his side as he continued to giggle, rolling around in the air as if Mark had just said the funniest thing he’d ever heard in his life. 

“Oliver! Be careful!” 

Mark hisses, exasperated, his own feet planted firmly on the ground. He glances to you almost apologetically, then back at the floating half-alien “you’ll drop the flour! And Mom said no flying in the house.”

“I’m not gonna drop the flour!”

Olive responds, righting himself so he’s floating the right way up, grabbing the flour and starting to juggle it with ease, grinning wide.

“See? Look!”

“Oliver-“ 

“Cmooon, stop being such a killjoy. [Y/N] is having fun too, see?”

Oliver whines, and with zero warning other than his response to Mark, Oliver throws the floor to you with the speed and direction of a baseball pitcher. That is to say, it was much too fast for you to catch in close range, and the ball slams into the counter, coating all three of you, and the surrounding two metre radius, in a thin coating of white flour.

Silence immediately fills the room. 

The first to break the silence is Oliver, who is, unfairly, the least covered in flour out of the three of you, giggling quietly.

Mark groans, wiping his flour covered hands on his shirt, which is also flour covered, giving him the appearance of some sort of unusually sculpted ghost. He turns to you, sighing slightly.

“Sorry, this wasn’t quite the bonding experience I had in mind..”

He admits, wiping his eyes of flour and shaking the dust off of his hands, producing a small white cloud he has to wave away.

“Here, let me get that for you..”

He leans in slightly, reaching a hand up to gently brush the flour off your cheek, averting his eyes as he does so. Even after everything, he’s still shy. It’s sweet, really.

After a few seconds he returns his gaze back to your face, smiling slightly and leaning in towards you for a kiss, eyes fluttering closed and mouth opening slightly-

“Ew! I’m still here, stop doing weird mating rituals, we’re supposed to be baking.”

Oliver pokes his head out from behind mark, causing him to whip around.

“Oliver! Quit doing that- I was just.. cleaning them up!”

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“Why aren’t you showing up anymore?”

The hero almost let their bowl drop to the ground. Their head whipped around and there they were: the villain. In the hero’s living room.

Suddenly, the villain took a step forward. Another one. The hero’s heart dropped immediately and their grip around the bowl tightened. A million ideas for defensive manoeuvres burst open in their mind.

But then they got reminded of the brutal truth.

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I wait for you for hours and you don’t come. I kidnap some rich guy and demand to see you, but they send some other useless group of heroes. I make public announcements. I threaten the city, I blackmail, I…you even moved.” The villain stared at them and they did look quite stressed indeed. “Are you mad at me?”

They grabbed the hero’s shoulders.

“Please, what is it? Talk to me, why aren’t you showing up anymore? Don’t tell me you quit.”

The hero averted their gaze.

“No one told you?” the hero asked. Their voice was even weaker than they had expected.

“Told me what?” The villain let go of them. Eyebrows knitted. Sceptical. Analytical. As if in their giant web of information they had made a severe miscalculation.

Which they had.

The villain wasn’t the kind to break into someone’s home and demand answers. They weren’t a person that showed their emotions clearly.

“I…” The hero bit their lip. They didn’t want to cry again. They’d cried so much the last few weeks, it seemed impossible for them to get their shit back together. They took in a deep breath. “On my last mission we encountered an individual capable of…stealing powers.”

The hero looked at their dinner. They’d barely been able to eat properly. And right now, they didn’t have much appetite either.

“They got mine. They stole my powers,” the hero said. Their voice was shaking and they could feel the pain crawl up their nose, they could feel the tears gather in their eyes. “During the fight, I got severely injured and after I got examined I was deemed incapacitated. I’m not allowed to work anymore. Not as a superhero at least. Not even in the lower ranks.”

“What?” the villain asked. Their features softened. “Surely they are ordering you to rest before you can get back into the field—”

“Please,” the hero said. “I’ve tried to argue. Hell, I asked to be a janitor at the facility to do my part. They refused all of it. I am not allowed.”

“No,” the villain whispered. They took the hero’s bowl, put it on the counter and grabbed the hero’s hands. “We can fix this. Come on, we could…”

“Losing powers is an irreversible process,” the hero answered. They let go of the villain’s hands and forced a painful smile. “I’m sorry, but you have to get a new nemesis. I did enjoy my time with you, though.”

“Please,” the villain begged. “Don't lose hope. Your powers don’t define your value.”

“They do when you’re a superhero,” the hero said. They did know what it felt like to be measured by their powers alone. They knew how most of their colleagues hated that.

But the hero hadn’t minded. They had wanted to help. So what if people didn’t see them as a person? So what if they only saw the facade, the powers? That didn’t matter. Saving people mattered.

And now they…

They looked at their hands. They had become quite useless, hadn’t they?

“It was my dream,” the hero confessed. “I wanted this more than anything and within a few seconds, it was all over. I didn't expect it to hurt that much.”

They looked at each other, but the hero didn't manage to do it for long. They clenched their fists.

Irreversible damage. They hadn't been a perfect hero, but they had tried.

They really had.

And they had wanted it. They had wanted to do this with every fiber of their being. They had craved to do this job, to be this source of hope and goodness. They had wanted it to be their purpose. They had saved countless lives. Parents, friends, children.

“To be honest, I wish I would have died right there,” the hero said. They took in a trembling breath and grabbed the bowl. “There are some leftovers, in case you want to join me.”

“Hey.” The villain grabbed the hero’s wrist. Their fingertips found the hero’s cheekbone and followed invisible lines on their face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in like that.”

"I don't mind the company," the hero admitted.

They paused.

The hero hadn’t realised it before, but the villain’s eyes were really beautiful.

"There has to be a way," the villain said, but the hero only shook their head.

"Believe me, there isn't. I am nothing but a normal civilian now. There is no way I can...there is no way I can save anyone ever again." And then, they simply let the tears drop. They didn't care about holding anything back anymore.

"Hey, hey." The villain grabbed their shoulders again, much gentler this time. "Please don't say that. That's not true."

"Oh God, I am so weak now, I am so useless." The hero turned away from the villain and hid their face behind their hand. Tears streamed down their face and they felt incredibly pathetic, crying their eyes out right in front of their enemy. "I am only in the way, they were right. I can't...I will never..."

"What on earth are you talking about?" The villain turned them around and took the bowl from them, put it down on the counter again, almost as if to make a statement. Their expression was somewhat angry, somewhat determined. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"I..."

"Tell me you don't really believe that."

The hero couldn't answer. They stared at the ground, embarrassed, exhausted.

"Christ," the villain mumbled. "Your powers are an extension of your self, they are not you. Your powers don't make you special. You are special because you are you."

The hero wished they could believe it. But right now, they hated this version of themselves more than anything.

"And you aren't a hero because you have powers. You have always been a hero."

The hero managed to look at them.

"At least to me," the villain said and it didn't fix everything, but it fixed a little. The hero couldn't help but fall into the villain's arms and bury their face in the villain's chest.

The hero never got their powers back but their enemy was right: that didn't make them any less of a hero.

[azulsluver]

Hello, first time Anon/asker 😭😭

Forgive me, English is not my first language 😭🙏

I was wondering how the bully!AU reader celebrates their birthday since their life is currently in hell :'))

I imagine them having the mental energy to celebrate it with Grim in secrecy. A small slice of cake they bought from the cafeteria and a little candle.

What if the cast finds out about it like, a week later? This is specifically for Trey, Kalim, Idia, or Malleus since I feel like they'll be more upset or irritated to not know that they missed the reader's birthday. But you can also choose any character that fits in this prompt(?). I just wonder how the characters would react to it.

Thank you for taking your time in reading this if it ever got sent 😭

Helloo! Thanks for requesting and your English is great! I had fun with this ( ˘•ω•˘ )

Malleus would never forget your birthday. The moment he took interest in you he made sure to keep notes and tabs on your social and personal life. Beyond normal questions, when you like someone you should know their favorite flowers, food and what triggers them. That he can use for later. Maybe he was so busy that it would passed on without a thought. But once his brain haywires from his royal duties he’s up in a flash. As compensation he’ll eat your choice of cake, can be layers taller than him if you ask nicely.

It’s not grand. Whatever you like. He won’t say he forgot your birthday, but it’s a punishment for something you never knew you were being punished for. He’s awfully embarrassed, he would be upset if you forgot his birthday. After hours of Sebek drilling facts about Malleus, you would know better.

I can’t see Trey forgetting a birthday party. Ever. He has a calendar with everyone’s birthdays listed, yours decorated in balloons and hearts.

If you’re not gifted anything, not even a slice of cake from him it means he’s upset with you. He’s purposefully forgetting your birthday. You know he’s the only person who puts in effort on making you overly sweet cakes and cupcakes just to shame you later on for eating so much. He makes your birthday seem special. Feel special. So how does it feel to lack his piece? He’s not there to blow out your candles and tell you to be good and eat what he makes.

He does get frustrated when he waits for you to come to him. Time is precious, why aren’t you knocking at his door or sending him a reply that takes minutes and countless retypes to ask if he’s up. He’s up, he’s already got his kitchen clean and ready to bake you something.

Kalim is just so busy that he forgot to check up on you! It’s usually Jamil who watches you but his plate is full too. He apologizes over and over, cradling you against his chest as if you were smacked against the head as he asks you what sort of present you’ll like to feel better. He’s such a bad owner!

The more he coddles you the tighter his grip. Why didn’t you say anything? You know he’s the spoils his puppy because they’ve been good. It’s as if you’re rejecting him, his love, his comfort, what? Too good for a birthday now? Is he too much? Maybe you didn’t deserve it, always whining and frowning, fix your face. But oh! Don’t cry! Kalim shushes you gently, relaxing his grip as you squeeze his arm to let him know. It hurts. He bet it does. Next time tell him, a puppy who’s eager to remind him of a special occasion. There’s a catch to this, and a horrible reason you don’t want to bother him.

It’s like gambling a reaction from him. No matter what he expresses out loud, there’s something that will make Kalim deadpan at you in silence before he decides to ignore you for months. Sometimes he can’t stand a spoiled pup (his fault.), always wanting and needing, you just want what he gives, using him, but he can tolerate it because you’re cute. Risk it however you prefer, stay quiet, you’re getting scolded either way.

Here’s someone who’ll actually forget your birthday. Idia will not notice unless Ortho points it out that your latest purchase was a cake in the dead of night. At first he doesn’t care, he binge eats sweets at night too… until a couple hours later he’s thinking about it…when was the last time he’s celebrated your birthday? He barely celebrates his! But he loves them since he gets sick rewards on his games.

Idia finds birthday celebrations a bore, the least you’re getting is some form of animal ears and a matching tail set as a joke. Do you like cat or dog better? He likes cat so youre getting a cat. How about for your birthday you sit down and shut up while he plays something for hours on end. Pop a chip in his mouth, he got you some of your favorite snacks without you asking. Just don’t squirm too much, he likes to pinch when he’s frustrated.

[writeonwhiskey]

summer in seoul: ch 12

a/n: sorry this took a little while! enjoy! word count: 3.8k

After a quick breakfast, Felix, Han, Lee Know and Jeongin are leading you out of the building. You all quickly duck inside the waiting car, and it takes off without them mentioning the destination at all.

You glance around at them, trying not to feel out of place, and take in how they’re dressed—caps pulled low, sunglasses, face masks. It reminds you of how Chris always dresses when you’re out in public together.

You now know the reason behind it. But they don’t know you’re in on the secret yet, which only makes the whole group cosplay even funnier.

“You all feeling under the weather or something?” you ask innocently.

They exchange a quick look.

“Just…sensitive to sunlight,” Felix mutters, tugging his bucket hat lower.

“Seasonal allergies,” Han adds with a sniff for emphasis.

“I have pimple,” Jeongin says.

Lee Know just shrugs.

You bite back a smile. “Right.”

You let them off easy, leaning back into the seat. Throughout the ride, Felix talks to you the most—he seems to take you under his wing, knowing it’s easier for you to communicate with him—but the others do their best to make you feel included, too.

“You guys going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

“It’s a secret,” Han says.

“You’ll like it,” Felix assures you.

You eye him suspiciously. “Why does everyone here seem to like secrets so much?”

“It’s not bad,” Jeongin replies.

“Chan said to keep you entertained,” Han adds with a shrug. “So that’s what we’re doing.”

There’s a brief pause before you respond. “So I’m basically being babysat by the local welcome committee?”

“Exactly that,” Felix nods, “and we offer snacks.”

You laugh quietly. “Do you guys always hang out like this? You don’t have to go to work or anything?”

Another shared look—slightly awkward. They let Felix take the lead.

“We’ve got pretty similar schedules,” he says. “But, yeah, we do spend a lot of our free time together.”

“Well, thanks for letting me tag along. I appreciate it. I probably would’ve just stayed in the hotel room all day.”

“We couldn’t let that happen,” Han says.

“Yeah,” Felix grins, glancing out the window. “You’re in Seoul. You’re obligated to at least try a claw machine.”

“Claw machine?” you repeat. “Are we going to an arcade?”

The car begins to slow, pulling into a narrow side street lined with colorful signage and a glowing neon arrow pointing toward an underground arcade.

Han shoots you a grin. “Ready to lose?”

You huff. They have no idea how competitive you are.

“Let’s do this.”

You follow them down the stairs into the dimly lit space. It’s packed full of flashing lights and whirring machines, and smells faintly of popcorn and cotton candy. But there’s hardly anyone inside, and when the boys take off their face masks you can only assume they either come here enough to know it’s dead on a Sunday or they’ve rented out the entire place. You hope for the former.

“Do you want a card or tokens?” Felix asks, already making a beeline for the machine at the entrance.

“I’ll win with either,” you reply.

Felix laughs, swiping a game card and handing it to you. “Confidence. I like it.”

Jeongin is already gone, halfway across the room in front of a basketball hoop game. He waves Lee Know over.

“Time to crush this kids ego.” Lee Know cracks his knuckles and rolls his shoulders.

You watch as the two of them start a head-to-head round, the machine lighting up with a countdown. Felix pulls you toward a claw machine nearby with rows of pastel plushies and keychains stacked inside.

“You have to call which one you’re going for,” Felix says.

“The bunny,” you tell him.

“I’m getting this bear,” he points to it.

“We’ll see.”

You and Felix choose separate machines and swipe your cards. As the claw dangles and jerks around inside, you go quiet to focus. You nudge it to the left, hold your breath, and press the drop button. The claw lowers, catches onto the pale blue bunny, lifts—and just before it hits the edge of the chute, it drops.

“Nooo,” you groan.

“That’s how they get you,” Han suddenly reappears at your side with a bucket of popcorn.

Felix’s first attempt isn’t any better. His claw completely misses its target.

“Okay, okay that was just a warm-up round,” Felix announces as you both slide your cards again.

Two attempts later, you manage to finally snag the bunny. It drops into the prize chute and you jump up and down, hands raised in the air.

“Damn, bro,” Han says, shaking his head at Felix. “Can you beat anyone in any game?”

Felix looks mildly betrayed. “It’s all luck sometimes.”

You smile sweetly, holding the bunny to him. “For your efforts.”

“A souvenir of my shame, you mean,” he mutters, but he grins as he takes it.

By the time you’ve all made the rounds—air hockey, racing simulators, shooting games—your competitive streak has flared and your card balance is dangerously low. Lee Know crushed Jeongin in four basketball games in a row. Han’s surprisingly good at Dance Dance revolution and Felix set a high score on the punching machine with a spinning back kick that had your jaw on the floor.

Somewhere between rounds, Lee Know disappears and returns with bottled water and kimbap for everyone.

“You guys are seriously good hosts,” you tell him as he hands you one.

“Chan would want us to keep you alive,” he shrugs.

“Yeah, he would definitely hurt us if we didn’t make sure you were adequately fed and hydrated,” Felix agrees.

“Is he your leader or something?”

They freeze for half a second—just long enough to notice.

Han recovers first. “He’s more like…our very stressed out parent.”

You narrow your eyes at them, but they’re already pretending to be very interested in their food. It’s obvious they’re deflecting, but there’s something kind of endearing about the way they do it. They obviously want to make sure you have a good time, but they’re under the impression they are protecting Chris’s secret.

“Well your dad-friend raised some very chaotic sons.”

“Thank you,” Felix says brightly. “We try.”

The rest of the afternoon is spent stopping by a few shops, the guys convincing you to try on things you never would’ve picked for yourself. Somewhere between a pair of oversized sunglasses and a bright patterned jacket, you stop resisting and lean into the mayhem with them. They’re relentless, but also surprisingly good at picking things that actually suit you.

By the time you all pile back into the car, you’re carrying a modest haul—though nothing compared to the bags Felix has. Back at the apartment building, Lee Know and Jeongin head off to their own place, each juggling a few bags.

Felix passes them his own, “You know where my closet is, thanks.”

Lee Know rolls his eyes, but Jeongin does his best to take all the bags in his hands.

Inside the apartment, you see Seungmin and Changbin seated at the dining table, casually flipping through their phones—and across from them sits someone you haven’t seen before. At least, not in person.

There’s something about him that immediately commands attention. His hair is pulled half-up, half-down, with loose strands framing his face. This must be the member that was in Milan for a fashion show. That phrase still doesn’t feel normal to even think.

He’s dressed in what could technically be called casual wear, but it’s fucking Versace. He makes it look both laid-back and runway ready at the same time. He glances up from his phone and when his eyes land on you, he smiles.

“You’re back already,” Felix says. “y/n, this is Hyunjin. Hyunjin, y/n—Chan’s friend.”

Hyunjin gives a small, polite nod and a casual wave. “Hey.”

You return the gesture.

“Didn’t expect you back so early today,” Han says.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin shrugs. “I slept like five hours in two different airports. I’m running on caffeine and vibes, right now.”

“You’re thriving, sweetie,” Changbin reassures him.

When Lee Know and Jeongin return, everyone decides to play charades. The next hour passes in a blur of ridiculous guesses, reenactments and accusations of cheating. You’re in the middle of trying to guess Han’s elaborate pantomime of…a chicken…a rocket ship…you have no idea, when Felix turns to look at you with a frown.

“Chan’s not gonna make it back tonight.”

“Oh.” You try not to let the disappointment show. “Everything okay?”

“Just work stuff,” he says. “But he said to make sure you get back to your hotel safely.”

The news puts a slight damper on the mood, but you finish out the game with them anyway. When they invite you to stay for dinner, you politely decline.

Felix insists on riding with you back to the hotel, chatting casually during the drive—nothing important, just easy conversation that keeps your mind from wandering too far.

Even without Chris, the day didn’t feel like a waste. If anything, it gave you a clearer understanding that they’re so much more than just a group. They’re connected in a way that’s hard to describe—a closeness that seems deeply earned. A kind of found-family bond.

When the car pulls up to your hotel, you turn to Felix with a smile.

“Thanks for today. Really.”

He nods. “Anytime.”

You pause with your hand on the door, then glance at him again. “You’re definitely, like, the second coolest member of Stray Kids.”

His mouth drops open—realizing you’d been fucking with them the entire day with your questioning. Before he can respond, you stick your tongue out and hop out of the car, shutting the door with a grin.

The window rolls down a second later.

“Not cool, y/n.”

The following day, after your author’s meeting, you still haven’t heard from Chris. As you go over your notes from the meeting, you can’t keep your mind from drifting to thoughts of him.

You wonder why he texted Felix about not being able to come back yesterday and not you, if everything’s really fine, what exactly pulled him away—what’s kept him away all this time. And then you remind yourself, as gently as possible, that it’s not your place to worry like this.

You try to reduce it to simple human compassion. The same empathy you’d feel for any friend going through a rough time.

Still, that doesn’t dull the ache of how far away he suddenly feels. Before you think too deeply about it, you pull out your laptop and type their group name into YouTube. You tell yourself it’s only to understand more about the world Chris calls reality. But it’s just blatant curiosity at this point.

To your surprise there’s an endless supply of content: music videos, live stages, interviews, behind-the-scenes clips, and even game shows. Each one feels more surreal than the last. You fall into a two-hour rabbit hole, slack-jawed as you watch the very same boys you spent yesterday with (and Chris, whom you’ve fucked), send their fans into a frenzy merely by existing.

It's jarring, trying to mesh the different versions of them all together.

Just as you pull up a live stream of a 4th of July firework show back home, your phone buzzes. You can’t stop the wave of relief that washes over you, seeing his name.

Hwarang [8:27pm] Hey

You don’t hesitate to reply. 

You [8:28pm] Hey. You okay?

Hwarang [8:30pm] I’ll be fine You busy?

You glance up at the fireworks bursting on your screen. You’re the exact opposite of busy. 

You [8:31pm] Not at all.

As soon as the two checkmarks next to your message turn blue, your phone starts to ring. You nearly drop it out of shock—he’s never called you before. You clear your throat, press the answer button and place the phone against your ear. 

“I’m sorry,” he says as soon as the line connects, his voice soft and low.

“For what?” 

“Goin’ MIA again.”

You remain silent for a moment. Given the parameters of your ‘relationship’, this is supposed to be something you both find fun. He’s not supposed to feel bad for being preoccupied. However, you do appreciate his acknowledgement. 

“Work comes first, you don’t need to apologize.”

“I know,” he sighs, “I wanted to text you but I was in such a shitty mood I didn’t want any of it to rub you the wrong way.”

“You’ve only ever rubbed me the right way, Chris,” you tease.

He chuckles. “Can I come see you?”

“Now?”

A knock at your door startles you once again. You immediately know it can’t be a coincidence.

“Chris…” you trail off, walking towards the door. 

“Hmmm?”

You pull the door open to reveal Chris, masked up and leaning against the wall next to the doorframe. 

“I was in the neighborhood,” he smiles, looking at you as he continues speaking into his phone.

“Uh-huh,” you say, stepping aside and allowing him to enter. 

He takes his shoes off and continues into the room, finally hanging up the phone and sliding it onto the table. He takes off his backpack, then removes his mask and tosses his hat next to his phone. He then brings you in for a hug, squeezing you tightly for longer than necessary, but you don’t mind. 

“You hungry? Thirsty?” you ask when he releases you. 

“I’m good,” he sits down at the small table. He glances at the video playing on your laptop and you promptly shut it. 

“Feeling a little homesick today,” you mumble with a shrug. 

“What would you have been doing today if you were home?” He inquires, pushing the other chair out at the table for you to sit. 

“I would have helped my mom host her annual barbecue and gorged myself on hamburgers and hot dogs, set off fireworks—the typical celebrations,” you reply, taking a seat. 

“Sounds fun…sorry you have to miss it,” he replies earnestly. 

“There’s always next year.”

A silence falls over you as he leans back in the chair, stroking his chin with his pointer finger. He seems to slip away for a moment. 

“What were your worst-case scenario picks?” you ask.

“Huh?” He arches an eyebrow, then it clicks. “Oh…well, the first one was that all of our fans would riot and hate me for breaking a promise.”

You nod, encouraging him to keep going, happy he actually partook in the exercise.

“The second was that another groups image would be irreparably damaged by some careless things I said.”

“Do you mind sharing what actually happened?” 

You don’t want him to feel like you’re prying, but his worst-case scenarios leave much to be considered.

He falls quiet again, and for a moment you worry you’ve overstepped, but then he continues.

“I have this weekly live stream I do with our fans—Chan’s Room…”

You nod, showing him you’re listening. But you hope your face doesn’t give away the fact that you watched clips of it before he arrived.

“It was going strong for a couple of years, too. I mentioned another group in a backhanded sort of way and a few groups they assumed I was talking about, were bombarded with unwarranted hate.”

You have no clue how deep their fandom goes, but it sounds like they’re ready to fight for him at the drop of a dime. 

“And the future of the weekly stream has been up in the air right now. I’ve apologized, tried to make things right, but…it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to keep doing it.”

“And you enjoyed them?” you ask, curiously. 

“I loved it,” he replies with a sullen smile. “I got to connect with our fans every Sunday and talk with them, catch up with them, joke with them…it made us closer, I think.”

“So it’s canceled? The decision is final?”

“It’s not official, but after yesterday’s meeting I know it will be eventually.”

“That’s awful. I’m sorry, Chris.” You reach out, squeezing his knee gently.

He gives a half-assed shrug, but you can see right through him. The tension in his jaw. The flicker of pain in his eyes. “Life goes on.”

“C’est la vie.” 

His lip quirks up. “English, Korean, and French, eh?”

“I’m just full of surprises,” you smirk.

“Speaking of…” he leans back slightly. “Do you know the exact date you leave?”

You narrow your eyes at the shift. “Yes…but I’m not sure I should tell you now.”

“I’m not planning anything crazy,” he says, though his grin is suspicious. “When do you leave?”

“Says the man who arranged a full itinerary and sunset dinner cruise?”

His grin only grows. “When?”

You sigh. “The 18th.”

“And what meetings do you have lined up?”

You cross your arms. “You are up to something.”

“Come on…” he pleads. “I just want to know when I’ll have you to myself again. I’m out of town for a couple days, then I’m back for a bit. After that…”

“I’m gone,” you attempt to complete his sentence. 

“Well, I was gonna say I’ll be performing at Lollapalooza,” he smirks, “but yeah, that too. Of course. Absolutely.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m busy on the 10th and 17th.”

“Noted,” he says, tapping his temple. 

He suddenly reaches out, grabbing the arm of your chair and dragging it toward him.

“I leave tomorrow morning,” he announces, resting his hands on your thighs. 

“You should probably head home and get some sleep, then.” 

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “I’d rather be right here. Besides, we were interrupted last time.”

You place your hands over his and lean in. “Did you come to my room to cash in on a promised blowjob?”

He doesn’t flinch—just grips your thighs and pulls you forward until you’re straddling him.

“That’s one idea.”

He stands with you still wrapped around him, lips brushing yours as he walks the two of you to the bed. He lays you down, crawling over you.

“I need to keep my mind busy, right now, though.”

His mouth crashes to yours hungrily. The fire between you reignites instantly, your legs lock around his waist, your hands slipping beneath his shirt, nails raking across his back.

He pulls away and yanks your shorts down in one swift motion, then drops to his knees on the floor. His fingers dig into your hips as he drags you to the edge of the bed.

“You gonna miss me?” He asks, lips ghosting kisses along your thigh.

“Do you want me to?” you ask, looking down at him. 

He pauses. “Yes.”

“Alright…let’s see if you can make me miss you.” You challenge him. 

He lowers his head between your thighs without another word. His tongue parts your folds, then he purses his lips together as if he’s going to whistle to blow cool air onto your pussy, causing your hips to jolt upwards.

You grip his hair, tugging him forward. He groans as he devours you, mouth sealed to your pussy, tongue moving in tight circles. His hand pushes against your stomach, encouraging you to lie back. You obey, shuddering as he explores you. When he slips two fingers inside, your body arches in response.

“Chris—fuck—”

His rhythm is relentless. His lips, his fingers, his moans all drive you toward the edge, your eyes flutter shut. You cup your breasts, whining and moaning as he alternates between giving you what you desire and teasing you. 

You grab his hand on your stomach and try to force him up.

“You want me to stop?”

“I want you to fuck me,” you reply.

In a blur, he’s above you again, stripping off his clothes. You fumble with his jeans, the urgency between you palpable. His gaze is fixed on yours as he positions himself at your opening. You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him down to kiss you, thrusting your hips forward to take him inside. You moan and bite on his bottom lip as he pulls away.

His gaze locks on yours as he pushes his hips forward at an achingly slow rate. You gasp at the stretch, at the feel of him.

“You gonna miss me?” He asks again, eyes teasing you just as much as his cock. 

You press your lips firmly together. Partially just to be defiant, but you also don’t want to lie to yourself or him. You can’t miss him. 

He thrusts deeper, lips brushing yours. He starts off slow and sensual at first, then faster, harder. His thumb finds your clit, circling as he fucks you.

Your moans grow louder, your hips raising to meet his each time. He presses his forehead against yours. Having him inside you right now is no different than any of the other times, but a feeling is brewing that you cannot shake.

“Come for me, y/n,” he whispers. “I want to feel it.”

He straightens and you watch, entranced, as he continues thrusting his hips back and forth, still teasing your clit. But the way he’s staring at you is unnerving. You feel like you’re on a runaway train heading straight for trouble.

But if you’re being honest, you’ve known this since the fucking dinner cruise and haven’t really done a single thing to stop it. 

You sense your release approaching and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you again, wanting him as close as possible. You bury your face against his chest as you cry out his name. He groans as he comes, too, his body trembling with the force of it.

He stays there, slumped against you, catching his breath. He presses kisses to your face, your jaw, your forehead. The air is thick with sweat, sex, and a raw need that neither of you want to acknowledge.

“What time is your flight?” you whisper. 

“7:00am.” 

“Are you sleeping here?”

“I shouldn’t…I still need to pack.”

You nod. He kisses you once more before rolling out of bed. You watch him dress, your body still humming with pleasure.

True to character, he disappears into the bathroom and returns with a warm towel to clean you up with gentle care. 

“I’ll text—”

“Don’t.” You cut him off. “When you say it, I expect it. Just…keep in touch if you have time. If you want.”

He nods with a small smile. “Deal.”

He finishes cleaning up his mess on you and you take the towel from him.

You walk him to the door, waiting as he puts on his backpack, then his hat, then his mask. When his shoes are on, too, he pulls you in for another kiss. 

“Have a safe flight,” you murmur against his lips.

“Mmm,” he hums, nuzzling your nose before finally pulling away. He releases you and opens the door, stepping into the hall. “So you gonna miss me or what?”

“Bye, Christopher,” you deadpan and shut the door in his face. 

a/n: when i was editing this, i realized i used the "runaway train" line back in 2023 when i originally wrote this and i was like hmmm should i take this line out? is to too on the nose with the release of railway?? but it made the cut hehe. [ read chapter thirteen here ] (coming soon)

taglist: @hanniesbubuwife / @valworld17 / @luckyroll3 / @fancybarbii / @mlink64 / @ehstay / @gncbnahc / @no1likeneo / @beppybeesnuggets / @lattyjiji / @akindaflora / @spookiesakura

[fluentmoviequoter]

birthday crow dragon boy

Pairing: Sylus (LADS) x fem!reader

Summary: It's Sylus's birthday, and you set out to surprise him with a cake. You receive some unexpected help from the twins and a reaction from Sylus that is better than any gift you could get him.

Warnings/Word Count: r has a darkness evol/can move through shadows, fluff, soft!Sylus, banter, allusion to Sylus running a con selling fake evols, very slightly suggestive comment at the end, 1.4k+ words

A/N: First time writing Sylus, he's probably OOC, but it's his one year LADS anniversary and I love him, so...

Masterlist | Request Info

“Get out, Mephisto,” you say, running your finger down the cookbook laid open before you. Then, you realize who, or more accurately, what you’re talking to, scoff, and murmur, “As if it was that easy.”

Yet, Mephisto caws dramatically and flies away through your open window. You’re in Sylus’s kitchen – or one of them? The place is too big to keep your memory of the layout straight – and you have been trying in vain for nearly an hour to find something to make. Sylus isn’t exactly the most open guy about what he likes or wants, and the little hints you’ve dropped about his birthday have been met with blank stares and dramatic one-liners. But you won’t be swayed, you remind yourself as you flip to the cake section of the cookbook.

“Red velvet,” you whisper to yourself. “Mahogany cake… the red would suit him.”

“What are you doing?” someone asks from the doorway.

“What does it look like, Luke?” you reply.

“Uh, reading, which is boring,” Kieran interjects.

“I’m working on something,” you say, glancing over your shoulder at them. “So, get out.”

“Whoa, hurtful,” Luke exclaims. “What if I wanted to help?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Sylus, fearless leader of Onychinus, handpicked me to be his right-hand man!” Luke proclaims. “But you don’t trust me?”

“Correct. Now leave.”

“Are you making boss a birthday cake?” Kieran guesses, looking over your shoulder as you move toward the pantry.

“Not anymore,” you grumble. “Because you don’t know how to keep a secret.”

“I do too! I haven’t told anyone that Sylus studied your evol and modeled a counterfeit after it,” he brags.

Your brow furrows as you lift a container of flour. As you turn toward Kieran, Luke smacks the back of his head.

“Fine,” you groan. “You can stay, but you have to do exactly what I tell you.”

“Deal!” Luke agrees, offering his hand. You look at his palm, then the flour in your arms. “Oh, right,” he murmurs. “Where would you like me?”

“You’re going to measure,” you decide, returning to your previous place at the counter. “We’re making red velvet cake and decorating it to look like a dark, gothic tower with a crow perched on it.”

“Boss will love that!”

“Focus,” you urge, reaching into a top cabinet for a box of fondant. “We don’t have much time before he realizes we’re all gone.”

Mephisto caws as he flies into another window and lands on Sylus’s shoulder. Sylus doesn’t stop walking, only tips his head toward Mephisto in greeting. The twins will be waiting in his office, just as they do every other day he has a meeting. Today, he’s looking forward to a friendly face. Or mask.

Mephisto moves in imitation of a crow ruffling its feathers as Sylus’s office door swings open for him. It’s suspiciously quiet as he steps inside, and it takes less than five seconds to deduce that the twins are gone.

“Where are they?” Sylus asks.

Mephisto flaps his wings and moves to Sylus’s desk, turning toward the window.

“You don’t know?” Sylus teases, his lips quirking up slightly. “Well then what good are you?”

Mephisto leaves, offended, but doesn’t use a route where Sylus can follow him. Instead, he goes through the air vents.

Alone, Sylus shakes his head and sits at his desk. He hasn’t seen you in a while either, he remembers. Trusting that Mephisto would know if something had happened or if you were in trouble, he turns his attention to a report of an evolver who lost his powers. It was nothing like yours.

You step out of the shadows and into a deserted hallway near Sylus’s office. Luke and Kieran were giggling too much to assist in this part of your plan, so you left them behind to sort out their gift for Sylus.

As you pad down the empty stretch of tile, you feel the air behind you shift, the particles blowing apart quickly before coming back together around matter that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“Sylus,” you greet without stopping.

He steps to your left side, his right eye glowing red after using his evol. Sylus says your name in reply, matching your steps as he watches your profile.

“Can I show you something?” you inquire.

“Anything,” he replies immediately.

Stopping at an intersection of corridors, you look at Sylus. “You might not like it,” you admit.

“I’ll find a way to manage. Lead the way.”

Sylus offers his hand, and you wrap your fingers around his palm before you pull him into the darkness with you. Moving through the shadows is faster than walking through the light, and you arrive outside Sylus’s kitchen nearly immediately.

“I fear I’ve already seen this particularly destination,” he deadpans.

You smile and push the door open, not noticing how Sylus leans toward you. Inside, you press your hands against his chest to slow him down, then take a step back and clap.

“Surprise!” you call with Luke and Kieran, rolling your eyes as they jump over his couch and land on the table. Mephisto flies down from the top cabinet and caws with you, oddly obedient. You expect it’s because he knows that today is unlike any other day of the year.

“Happy birthday, Sylus,” you add, reaching forward to grasp his forearm and pull him toward the table. “It’s not much, but-“

“It’s perfect,” Sylus murmurs, still watching you.

“Open our gift first!” Luke cheers.

Sylus shakes his head but pulls the black gift bag open and removes the chrome tissue paper. “It’s… gold?” he reacts, lifting a chain of pure gold from the bottom of the bag.

“There’s more,” Kieran explains.

Sylus lays the chain on the table, then removes a small dragon statue, also made of pure gold. Luke sighs and immediately launches into an explanation of what it means.

“Dragons hoard gold, and you’re like the fire-breathing dragon guardian of the N109 zone,” he concludes.

“Thank you,” Sylus says. “I appreciate it.”

Luke nods happily, then watches Sylus expectantly. Kieran brings the covered cake to the table, and Sylus’s hand brushes against yours.

“I didn’t know what flavor you liked,” you whisper, “so if you don’t want to eat it, it’s fine.”

Luke and Kieran begin singing before Sylus can reply, but he’s pretty sure he’d eat one of Mephisto’s feathers right now if you asked him to. Mephisto looks over as if he heard the thought, cawing at Sylus during the song.

“Thank you,” Sylus says again when you move to show him the cake. “All of you.”

You smile and remove the cover, watching Sylus soften at the sight of the crow cake. Mephisto struts past the cake, then poses like the fondant bird modeled after him.

“He’s a picky model,” you muse. “But he made sure it was perfect.”

“Can I have a word?” Sylus asks, tipping his head toward the kitchen.

“It was all her idea,” Luke says, pushing you forward.

“I’m not mad, you two,” Sylus sighs. “It’s been a long time since I celebrated my birthday. Mind cutting the cake before we return?”

Kieran and Luke turn toward the cake as Sylus spreads his hand on your back and leads you to the kitchen.

“If I overstepped,” you begin.

“You didn’t,” Sylus assures you, his hand moving to your waist as he stands before you. “How did you find out today was my birthday?”

Glancing down, you say, “You’ll never know.”

Sylus hums, his smile growing despite his best efforts not to show you how much you affect him.

“And the cake?”

Shrugging, you explain, “Just a surprise.”

“A surprise you spent all morning making.”

“Well, it’s your birthday. And birthday boys – or dragons, or crows, whatever you are – deserve to know someone cares about them.”

Sylus moves his hand to the side of your neck, stepping closer as your breath catches.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Then, when you close your eyes and expect him to do something, he disappears, leaving you to open your eyes and see the red and black energy waves behind him. Returning to the dining room, you take the seat beside Sylus and accept a piece of cake from Luke.

“Perhaps for your birthday, we could go somewhere the Onychinus dream team is not,” Sylus whispers as Luke and Kieran focus entirely on their cake.

“You admit they’re a dream team?” you joke.

Sylus narrows his eyes at the twins and takes your hand beneath the table. His fingers circle your palm before he pushes out, interlacing your fingers.

“Happy birthday,” you say again. “And your gift is in your room, Mephisto delivered it for me.”

“And if I have a question or want to thank you?” he inquires lowly.

You smile, say, “You know where to find me,” then place a forkful of cake between your face and Sylus’s.

[lascvitae]

helloo i gotta say i love ur writing, and ur sugar mommy aeri fic got me thinking… ik u don’t really write for twice but could i request for a sugar mommy nayeon x masc reader fic/smut or if u want, u could change nayeon to aeri as well 🤓

ᝰ.ᐟ katty hiii thank you babe <33 and yessss ofc!!

ᝰ.ᐟ warnings/tags. smut (18+) 内永枝利 x masc!reader cursing oral (r giving) you call her ma’am n like that’s it 655wc teasing ───── ꒰ 𝓿ault. ꒱

YOU’RE STANDING BY THE MIRROR, fixing the collar of the suit she had tailored for you. it’s definitely out of your budget, but it fits better than anything you’ve ever owned. and most importantly? she loves it.

you didn’t mean to tempt her, but when she walks out of the closet in her black dress, she stops in the doorway.

and then she lets out a laugh that’s slow and disbelieving. “you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

you look up over at her, clearly confused. “what?”

she walks forward, hands reaching for your chest. both of her palms press flat against them, then trail down like she’s checking the quality. reminding herself what she paid for.

“you look expensive.” she says, mostly to herself.

her fingers find the buttons of your blazer, then unfasten one. then another. then they slide inside, brushing the crisp cotton of your shirt underneath before dragging her nails across your waist like she’s imagining something else.

“how am i supposed to keep my hands to myself?” she says, breath catching.

you don’t say anything, staring down at her. it makes her worse.

her hands glide lower, over your stomach, stopping right above your belt. just resting there.

“don’t look at me like that. i’m already wet.” she whispers while smirking.

your jaw tightens. she notices and smiles wider.

you swallow. hard. “we should go.”

“mm, should we?” she presses closer, grabbing your jaw and staring you in the eyes.

she presses her body against yours, breath sweet and warm on your throat.

“you’re not gonna make me beg for it, are you?”

you don’t answer her. your mouth twitches like you’re fighting a smirk.

“fine. i’ll just help myself.” she mutters, stepping back.

her fingers slide up her thighs, bunching her dress at the hips. she stays standing in front of you with nothing underneath, heels planted.

“on your knees.”

you go without hesitation, eyes steady on hers as your blazer shifts with every movement.

you glance at her thighs as she steps closer. “you’re so wet.”

“shut up.”

“yes ma’am.”

your voice drops as your hands rest on your thighs. you tilt your head just a little, eyeing the slick between her legs, smirking up at her.

she grabs your hair. not gently, either.

“tongue out.”

you do it with a smile, lips brushing her skin as she pulls you closer by your hair.

she shudders the second you lick. slow at first, flattening your tongue against her.

“fuck.” she breathes, eyes fluttering closed.

you moan into her cunt, hands on her thighs and eyes locked on hers as you work your tongue in slow circles.

she gasps and tightens her grip on your hair, grinding harder against your face.

“baby… keep going.”

she moans again, louder. her knees wobble just a little.

“mm— just like that. don’t you dare stop.”

you don’t. you won’t. not until her legs are shaking and your chin is soaked.

her heel wobbles slightly against the tile and her breath catches, hand trembling in your hair. you look up at her, licking slower and deeper as her thighs tense around your head.

“you’re close.” you murmur lowly against her folds.

“shut up. fuck— i said don’t stop—“ she gasps, hips rolling again.

you moan into her again, hands gripping her thighs to keep her steady as she starts to shake. her knees almost buckle and she moans loud as her orgasm hits, cunt soaking your mouth as she rides it out against your face.

“fuck! fuck— oh my god—”

you keep going. even when her fingers tighten almost painfully in your hair and her hips jerk against your tongue.

“shit—” she chokes, thighs trembling.

you only slow down when she tugs you off, chest rising and falling. she looks down at your glistening chin.

“you’re lucky i won’t make you do it again.” she mutters, voice uneven.

you smile, licking your lips slowly.

“we’ve got time.”

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