#i genuinely don’t even know what i’m saying don’t ask me

[dakusan]

On The Hard Days, Stay.

stray kids ot8 x reader | comfort, soft angst

🌙 synopsis: Everyone has days where it feels like too much. These are the ones where you fall apart—and they choose to stay. Eight moments. Eight ways love shows up when the world feels too heavy. No grand gestures. Just quiet understanding, gentle hands, and someone who refuses to let you carry it all alone.

💌 a/n: This is for when you're not okay. Each of these pieces is a love letter to the quiet kind of support we often need but don't know how to ask for. If you're going through it, I hope this feels like a deep breath. To anyone struggling: you're not alone, you're love, you're enough and you're doing enough 🥺. Enjoy the mini shots!

📍credits: Just wanna credit @cafekitsune for the divider BCZ IT'S SO FUCKING CUTE... okay, i'm fine :3

🎶 Now Playing: "ONLY" — LeeHi

Bang Chan x Reader | “I’m Here, Okay?”

You didn’t mean to break down at his place. You really didn’t.

But something about the way he opened the door with that easy smile—tired, but genuine—made your throat close up. Maybe it was how he said, “Hey, you made it,” like he was actually relieved to see you. Or how his arms opened just a little like he was waiting for you to fall into them.

You didn’t. Not yet. You just kicked off your shoes, mumbled something about traffic, and followed him to the couch.

He didn’t press. Just let you sit in silence, legs tucked under you, hoodie sleeves bunched at your wrists. You stared at the TV without watching it. He noticed.

“You alright?” he asked, turning the volume down.

You nodded. Paused. Shook your head.

“No.”

It came out quieter than you meant. Then the tears hit—hot and fast. You covered your face with your hands like that would somehow keep it all in.

You felt the shift before you saw it—Chan moving closer, careful, like he didn’t want to crowd you.

“Hey… hey,” he said, voice low. “It’s okay.”

You shook your head again, frustrated with yourself. “Sorry. I didn��t wanna cry. I’m just—”

He didn’t wait for the rest. He just reached out, wrapping one arm around your shoulder and gently pulling you into his side. You let him. Didn’t even fight it. Just let your head drop against him, breathing unsteady.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he said. “You’re allowed to cry, you know.”

You didn’t say anything. But your fingers gripped the fabric of his sleeve tighter.

“I get it,” he murmured. “Life gets heavy. Like… it just stacks and stacks until you can’t breathe.”

You nod, barely.

“I’m not gonna pretend I can fix it. But I can sit here with you. However long you need.”

He didn’t try to cheer you up. Didn’t tell you to smile or be strong. He just stayed. His hand rubbed slow circles into your back, and when your breathing finally slowed, he looked down and gave you a small, tired smile.

“Just… let me be here, yeah?”

You nodded into his chest. You didn’t feel better. But you didn’t feel alone. And that? The idea that you weren't alone? It was more than enough.

Lee Know x Reader | “You Don’t Have to Say Anything”

You didn’t even know why you were crying.

It wasn’t one big thing. Just a pile-up of small, stupid things that somehow tipped over the edge today—too many deadlines, not enough sleep, a comment that hit too close. And now you were sitting on Minho’s couch with your knees pulled to your chest, blinking hard at the ceiling like it would stop the tears.

He noticed the second you walked in. You’d said you were fine. He didn’t believe you.

Minho didn’t ask questions. He just handed you a glass of water, sat down next to you, and turned on the TV without saying a word.

It was a comfort thing—noise in the background, something familiar. He didn’t hover. Didn’t touch you. Just… existed next to you. Quiet and steady.

You finally mumbled, “Sorry. I don’t even know what’s wrong.”

He glanced over, then leaned back into the cushions.

“You don’t have to know.”

That was it. Just that.

You didn’t say anything for a while. But eventually, you let your head drop onto his shoulder.

He let it happen, didn’t make a big deal of it. Just shifted a little to make you more comfortable. You felt him breathe out, slow and even. Like he wanted you to match his rhythm.

“Some days are just crap,” he said quietly. “Don’t need a reason.”

You nodded against his hoodie.

He didn’t try to fix it. Didn’t tell you it’d all be okay. He just sat there with you, letting the silence stretch in the safest way.

A little while later, he got up, disappeared into the kitchen, and came back with a bowl of rice, kimchi, and eggs. Nothing fancy. Just food you didn’t have to think about.

“Eat,” he said, setting it down in front of you. “Then we nap. You look like you need a nap more than a pep talk.”

And weirdly… that made you tear up again. But softer this time. Because you didn’t need someone to rescue you. You just needed this. Someone who saw you falling apart and didn’t try to make it pretty.

Changbin x Reader | “You Don’t Gotta Pretend”

You’d barely made it three steps inside his apartment before your shoulders dropped.

Changbin was in the kitchen, hoodie sleeves pushed up, something half-cooked on the stove. He turned at the sound of the door, his face lighting up at first—until he caught your expression. That quiet slump in your posture. The way you didn’t even try to smile.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just turned the stove off and wiped his hands on a dish towel.

“Come here.”

You didn’t argue. Just walked into his arms and let your forehead rest against his chest. He wrapped you up tight—arms firm around your back like he was trying to hold you together. You hadn’t cried yet. But your body felt like it could give out at any second.

He didn’t rush you.

Minutes passed like that. Then his voice, low and careful:

“What happened?”

You shook your head. “Just everything. Work. Family. Myself. I don’t know. It’s all too much.”

He let out a breath through his nose. Not annoyed—just frustrated on your behalf.

“You’ve been trying to keep it together too long, huh?”

That got you. You nodded, and then the tears came. Silent. Exhausted. You felt embarrassed, but his grip never loosened.

“Hey,” he said softly, one hand moving up to cradle the back of your head. “You don’t gotta pretend with me, alright?”

You tried to speak, but it all came out as a whisper: “I feel like I’m failing.”

Changbin pulled back just enough to look at you—really look at you.

“Listen to me,” he said, voice steadier now. “You’re not failing. You’re just tired. And overwhelmed. And human.”

You sniffled, lips trembling. “I hate feeling like this.”

“I know,” he said. “But it’s okay. You don’t have to power through all the time. Just let yourself fall apart here. I’ll pick up the pieces with you.”

His words weren’t polished. They weren’t some poetic comfort. But they were real. Raw. And exactly what you needed.

“Now sit,” he added, nudging you toward the couch. “I’ll finish cooking. You’re eating, and then we’re watching dumb YouTube videos ‘til you laugh or fall asleep.”

You gave the faintest, watery smile.

That was enough for him.

Hyunjin x Reader | “You Don’t Have to Go Through It Alone”

You didn’t even realize you’d gone quiet until he asked.

“Hey… what’s going on in that head of yours?”

You were sitting on the floor of his room, back against his bed frame, legs stretched out. He was next to you, sketchbook open, pencil tapping against the paper. Music played low from the speaker. Everything looked normal. But it didn’t feel normal.

You sighed. “I’m just tired.”

He glanced over at you. “Tired like… need-sleep tired, or tired like everything-is-weighing-on-you tired?”

You gave a weak smile. “Second one.”

Hyunjin didn’t say anything for a second. He just set the sketchbook down beside him and pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Come here.”

You didn’t even hesitate. You crawled over and leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around you like he’d been waiting for you to give in. His chin rested on top of your head, and you could feel his heartbeat against your shoulder.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he mumbled. “And I know I can’t fix it. But I want to.”

Your fingers curled into his hoodie. “You don’t have to fix it. I just… needed this.”

He held you tighter.

“You always carry so much,” he said quietly. “You act like you’re fine, and everyone believes it. But I see you. I always see you.”

That hit harder than you expected. Maybe because he said it so gently. Maybe because he meant it.

“I feel like I’m falling behind,” you whispered. “Like everyone else is moving forward and I’m stuck.”

Hyunjin pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you—eyes soft, expression serious.

“Life isn’t a race,” he said. “Even if it feels like it is. You’re not behind. You’re just… overwhelmed. And that’s okay.”

Your lip trembled. He noticed, reached up and brushed his thumb under your eye before the tears could fall.

“You’re allowed to feel like this. You’re allowed to have bad days. Just—don’t do it alone. Not when I’m right here.”

You nodded, and he leaned his forehead against yours.

“No pretending with me, alright?”

Han Jisung x Reader | “You’re Still You”

You didn’t say much when you got to his place.

Just dropped your bag by the door, kicked off your shoes, and quietly flopped face-first into his couch cushions. Jisung popped his head around the corner from the kitchen like a curious cat.

“You alive?”

You gave a muffled groan.

He walked over slowly, tossing a bag of chips on the coffee table before plopping down beside you.

“Rough day, huh?”

You didn’t answer. Just rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m so burnt out,” you mumbled. “And I feel like I have to keep pretending I’m okay because no one really wants to hear it.”

Jisung didn’t say anything right away. He reached over, grabbed the remote, and put on some random YouTube video of a guy reviewing the world’s worst frozen pizzas. It filled the silence.

A minute passed. Two.

Then, softly:

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

You turned your head toward him. He was still watching the screen, but his tone had shifted—lighter, but serious.

“I mean, I joke around a lot, but like... I notice stuff. I know when you're not okay.”

Your throat tightened a little. You didn’t want to cry. Not here. Not now.

“I just feel like I’m failing,” you said. “Like I’m trying so hard and still falling short.”

He finally looked at you.

“Falling short of what, though? Whose standard are you trying to meet?”

You shrugged, and it came out half-defeated. “Everyone’s, I guess.”

Jisung leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“You know, I do that too,” he said. “Think I have to be a certain version of myself for everyone. The funny one, the productive one, the ‘doing great’ one. But sometimes... I’m not. And that doesn’t make me less me.”

He turned back to look at you.

“And it doesn’t make you less you either.”

You swallowed hard.

“I hate feeling like a burden,” you whispered.

“You’re not,” he said instantly, voice firm. “You’re someone I care about. You showing up like this? That doesn’t make you a burden. It makes you human.”

He let the silence settle again.

Then: “I also bought three different flavors of ice cream in case of a breakdown, so like… if you wanna cry and eat cookie dough straight from the tub, I’m fully prepared.”

That finally got a laugh out of you. It was small, a little cracked—but real.

Jisung smiled, leaned back with a soft “There we go,” and tossed a pillow at your face like he hadn’t just lowkey saved your life a minute ago.

Felix x Reader | “I’ve Got You”

You’d been holding it in all day.

Smiling when you didn’t feel like it. Nodding through conversations you couldn’t focus on. Pretending like your chest wasn’t tightening with every hour that passed.

And then Felix texted you. “Wanna come over? No pressure. Just… if you need to breathe.”

You replied, “Okay.” Just that.

When you showed up at his place, he didn’t say anything. Just opened the door and pulled you into the softest hug you didn’t know you were craving.

You stood there for a while. His arms wrapped around your waist, your forehead pressed into his shoulder. The kind of silence that made it okay to not speak.

Eventually, you let out a breath. It came out shaky.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately,” you said, voice muffled. “I feel so… overwhelmed. Like I’m on the edge of something, but I don’t even know what.”

Felix didn’t say anything dramatic. He just hugged you tighter.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said softly. “You’re just human. And tired.”

You nodded against his shoulder.

“I’m trying so hard to keep it together.”

“I know,” he said. “And I’m proud of you for even getting through the day.”

His voice was low, gentle, like he was afraid too many words might break you. He guided you to the couch, pulled a blanket over both of you, and didn’t let go of your hand the whole time.

“You don’t have to be okay right now,” he whispered. “You just have to let yourself be. And I’ll be right here.”

You didn’t cry. Not exactly. But your eyes stung, and your fingers curled tighter into his. He didn’t try to fix it. He didn’t offer solutions.

He just held you like you mattered. And for the first time in days, you believed that maybe you still did.

Seungmin x Reader | “You Don’t Have to Prove Anything”

You didn’t even mean to start venting.

You’d come over for lunch—normal stuff, nothing serious. But halfway through a conversation about your week, it just… slipped out.

“I don’t think I’m doing enough.”

Seungmin blinked. “Enough of what?”

“Just… everything.” You laughed a little, but it came out wrong. “I feel like I’m always falling short. Like no matter how hard I try, it’s not good enough. For work, for people, for myself—whatever.”

He took a sip of his iced coffee, totally unfazed.

“Sounds like you’re burnt out, not useless.”

You gave him a look.

“I’m serious,” he said, shrugging. “You think pushing yourself past your limit means you’re not doing enough? That sounds backwards.”

You sighed, resting your chin on your hand. “I just hate feeling like I’m behind.”

He leaned back in his chair, looked at you for a long second.

“You’re not behind,” he said. “You’re just… stuck in your own head.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your professional opinion?”

“No,” he deadpanned. “That’s my ‘I-care-about-you-and-I-don’t-want-you-to-self-destruct’ opinion.”

You cracked a small smile at that.

Then, softer, he added, “You’re allowed to be tired. You’re allowed to not have your shit together sometimes. That doesn’t mean you’re failing. It just means you’re human.”

You looked down at your drink. Your fingers fidgeted with the straw.

“And if I’m tired of trying?”

“Then stop trying to prove something to people who already love you,” he said. “Including me.”

It was quiet for a second. You glanced up—and yeah. He was serious.

You didn’t say anything. Just looked at him with a tight throat and blurry eyes.

He looked back, totally steady. Then added casually, “Now hurry up and eat before I finish your food too.”

And somehow, that very Seungmin line made the tension in your chest crack just a little.

Jeongin x Reader | “I’ll Stay”

You hadn’t meant to stay this late.

But hours passed while you sat on Jeongin’s bed, hoodie wrapped tight around you, scrolling on your phone in silence while he sat across the room, doing the same. No pressure to talk. Just quiet company.

Eventually, he looked up.

“You okay?”

You hesitated.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I think I’m just… numb.”

He didn’t respond right away. Just set his phone down and leaned his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like he was thinking it through.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked. “Or just sit?”

You looked over at him. “Can we just sit for a bit?”

He nodded once. “Yeah. Of course.”

A few minutes passed.

Then, your voice broke the silence. “Everything feels like too much lately. But I also feel like… if I say that out loud, it makes me weak.”

Jeongin tilted his head slightly.

“It doesn’t,” he said. “It makes you honest.”

You looked down at your hands, fingers tightening around the sleeves of your hoodie.

“I feel like I’m supposed to have it together by now.”

“You don’t have to,” he said simply. “People act like there’s a deadline for figuring life out. There isn’t.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how calm and certain he sounded.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admitted, voice small.

Jeongin gave a soft smile and moved closer, sitting beside you now, shoulders touching.

“That’s fine,” he said. “I don’t always know either. But I’ll stay. Even when you don’t have answers. Even when you’re falling apart.”

You glanced over. His expression was gentle, but steady. No pity. Just care.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

He nudged your shoulder. “You don’t have to thank me. Just… let me be here, yeah?”

You nodded, and leaned your head on his shoulder. The silence returned—but it felt different now. Safer. Warmer.

And you started thinking that yeah, yeah maybe that is exactly what you’d needed all along.

[anglbunny]

ᝰ.ᐟDIRTY

You're kaiser's mechanic and nothing more. .ᐟCW: Street racer!Kaiser, Smut MDNI, mentions of voyeurism, window sex

"𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘.𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑓��𝑒𝑙 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒" - 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛' 𝑏𝑦 𝐴𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑛𝑎 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒

ᯓ★ᯓ⚡︎

You were kaiser’s mechanic, most of the time. That’s what you usually told everyone. That’s also what you told yourself, not that you believed it. 

Kaiser treated you nicely, like he did with every other mechanic, but that was until it was time for closing. He’d stop you when everyone was about to leave, and some of your friends would look at you, confused, but shrug it off. 

He’d say there was something wrong, something missing, or that you didn’t do something correctly. Just to see you bend over the hood so he could stare at your ass. You knew he was. You could feel his glare. 

You swallowed hard, about to say that everything looked fine, but he was leaning back on the car, beside you, smirking down at you, speaking before you could. 

“You look good bent down like that,” he said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you close to him. 

“Kaiser… someone could see..” you mumbled, wrapping one hand around his bicep. 

“Who?” he said, you didn’t miss the amusement in his voice, grabbing a handful of your ass through the sweats. 

You shut your mouth, cursing under your breath. Kaiser always locked the door after everyone left. Meaning no one could enter. 

The only reason you hadn’t told anyone what was going on between you and kaiser was because it was on and off. You weren’t his gf, you guys weren’t friends with benefits and he’s always fucking another girl everyday. And at the end of the day, he was DK(drift king) and you were his mechanic. Kaiser was THE person. His fame would go to shit if people found out he was hooking up with you and not one of the bombshell flag girls that always threw themselves at him. You guys were almost nothing. Almost. But some nights, when it was silent, nearly pitch black, you’d find Kaiser looking down on you, running his fingers through your hair so gently, like one would do with their lover, while you sucked his cock. 

Kaiser’s eyes were zoned out on you. Those pretty blue ones you’d always catch yourself staring at. 

“You’re always touching up my baby” he tapped his car, not looking away from you. “When will it be my turn?” 

“I don’t know, maybe when you stop saying such corny shit” you rolled your eyes, pulling a rare genuine laugh out of him. 

“Baby, tonight i’m thinking.. Something different..” he said, kissing the corner of your mouth. Your lips twitched, but you concealed your smile. 

“Humour me” 

“My place?” 

“And what exactly are we gonna do there?” you crossed your arms, tilting your head. 

“Needy fucking girl, can’t even wait till we get home to find out, huh?” he slapped your ass, taking your lips with his. 

ᯓ★ᯓ⚡︎

“C’mon baby, don’t pass out on me” he chuckled, holding you up against the full-length window of his penthouse. 

“‘M.. not, asshole” you slurred, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You weren’t even joking when you said this, his dick was so good, it was making you drool. Or maybe it was the sloppy kisses Kaiser was giving you. 

“Ngh! Fuck! Yess, yesss, kaiser, right there, ohmygod fuck fuck” 

Your pussy clenched around his fat cock, nails scratching down his back, while your legs were wrapped around his waist. 

He thrusted into that same spot over and over again. His tattooed hand slapping your ass. It was definitely red by now. 

“Ugh, fuck, you’re so warm” he groaned, pulling out till his tip was at your entrance only to slam back in. you cried out, throwing your head back. He cupped your breast with one hand, moving his lips to kiss along the column of your neck. Biting and sucking.

At this point, you don’t even try to hide the hickies anymore. Whenever anyone asks, you just tell them you don’t remember his name. But instead, you get Kaiser back by leaving just as many on him. 

He had smeared your lipstick, leaving nothing but swollen pink lips. Your mascara melting from crying.

His cock was balls deep. Not even letting you breathe for a second. How does this bastard have so much stamina? Especially while standing up and carrying you? He wiped down the foggy window, not slowing down one bit. 

“Show all of Tokyo you’re getting fucked. Let them watch while i fucking ruin your inside. Let everyone see.. How much of a fucking thrust whore thrust you thrust are thrust for thrust my cock. 

You yelled his name. Your arms locked around his neck, squeezing tight enough to steal his breath—yet he was still standing, still smirking down at you like he had all the control.

“Close!! Close, ‘m close, mihya please, lemme cum. Fuck please pleaseee” you whined, tears rolling down your face. Your throat was gonna sore as hell in the morning and your voice probably nonexistent 

“Yea? Fuck.. cum for me, liebling. Scream my fucking name. Lemme hear it. Let everyone down there watch while cum on my cock for the third time today. Show them who you fucking.. Belong to, baby..” he mumbled against your skin, biting down, chuckling at your soft sobs. 

He squeezed your ass, as you clenched around his length, nearly pulling an orgasm out of him. You came all around him. Painting his cock with warm cum. 

He soon followed, filling your pussy up nearly to the brim. Maybe you were being dramatic but it felt like his cock was in your stomach. 

Your head dropped onto his shoulder. He smiled, rubbing your back. He walked over to his bed and set you down, letting you fall down onto the soft pillows. 

“Fuck, kaiser… I.. you..” 

“Shhhh, shh, I know, it’s okay. Just sleep, let me take care of everything, alright?” you didn’t have it in you to argue, so you nodded. And within seconds you were asleep. 

After kaiser had finished cleaning everything up, including you. He pushed your hair out of your closed eyes. Admiring your calm face. 

“I love you, y/n. You don’t know it yet. But.. you’ll always be mine. And someday, the whole world’s gonna know” he smiled, Leaning down to kiss your forehead. 

Taglist: @cyberheartrebel @vaelils

A/N: Yes ik kaiser doesn’t live in Japan or Tokyo but stfu. This is Tokyo, where all the illegal races happen/j. There's something wrong with me, i can’t write a story under a 100 wc for the life of me. This was supposed to be a drabble. not edited

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[M.list] [Navigation] [street racer!AU] [street racer!kaiser]

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

You're so such a bad writers to be honest why are you even judging people for they like to write ?? you're not the best in the blue lock community. If they want to write for POC let them do that even if so there’s a whole list of blue lock writers better than you @shidoglazer, @dollbrbie, @kanyerealdaughter, @neeeooon, @iqxatlantic, @bluelockmaniac and i can Literally name so Much better writers fucking that are way better than you.

Guys I wake up and the first thing in the morning I see is this🤣🤣🤣

First of all, writing is subjective. Buddy I don’t have a follower count of 1180+ for nothing. Second, I didn’t say that any of their writing was bad. I have stated SO MANY TIMES in that very post that they were incredible writers and that I just didn’t like how exclusive they are with their writing sometimes. Did you read the whole post? Because if you didn’t, then you have NO right to hate. And if you did, you can’t cherry pick evidence.

Third, when did I ever say that I was the best writer in the BLLK community? I have numerous BLLK writers here that I respect and admire, and some of them are among the ones you stated. Not to mention that you should know (if you’re hating on me) that I don’t write for smut, and yet over half of the accounts you’ve mentioned here are smut writers. You can’t compare writers of two entirely different genres and go “this one is better than the other”. You can’t compare a horror mystery writer to a nonfiction sci fi writer.

Fourth, here you’re criticizing ME as a writer and yet you can’t even type two sentences without looking like a kindergartener who just learned their letters. Also, stop hiding behind that anon button; if you wanna hate, at least do it properly. At this point I’m genuinely considering removing the anon feature from my asks because haters are too cowardly to hate with their actual accounts.

Sixth, this is Tumblr, an app that I use FOR FUN and this is NOT MY REAL JOB. Why are you getting so heated over something that is, yes, something I love, but also something I do FOR FUN and for the love of writing? Seventh, what do you want me to do? Write an apology letter to every single fan I’ve wronged? Apologize for standing up for what I believe in?

Stop acting like a toddler and grow up.

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

I saw someone post this on reddit as an issue: '' Whenever I was with him I just felt like it was all a big joke. I genuinely couldn’t fathom the idea that he found me attractive enough to date me. It didn’t feel real and it terrified me, I would look at myself before I went to go see him and think to myself “how could he possibly even find me attractive” '' and then she broke up with him because she couldn't handle comparing herself to other girls. So...maybe Reader is going through this and does not get why Rafe would ever be with her when REALLY pretty barbie bombshell girls are out there that he's exposed to on Figure 8. So she slowly pushes him away, distance herself, takes long etc until she breaks up with him. He GIVES IT HIS all to pursade her from leaving him but she walks out on him crying. But you know....happy end and they find their way back to each other

always yours - rafe cameron x pogue!reader

⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ content: reader has self esteem issues, angst, insecurities, fluff ending

⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ yap: thank you for this request xx

⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ word count: 920

You’d never been able to shake that gnawing pit in your stomach—the one that whispered Rafe Cameron being with you didn’t add up. He was Figure 8 royalty: chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, the kind of guy who belonged on a yacht with sun-kissed Barbie dolls dripping in gold, not in your cramped Pogue trailer with its peeling paint and leaky faucet. You’d catch yourself in the mirror before he came over—hair a mess, skin flawed, clothes cheap—and wonder what the hell he saw in you. Those bombshell girls on his side of the island, with their glossy lips and perfect curves, made you feel like a punchline. Every time he touched you, kissed you, called you “baby,” it felt like a prank you weren’t in on. The doubt festered, growing into a quiet terror that he couldn’t possibly mean it—not when he had them as options.

It started small. You’d take longer to text back, let his calls ring out, make excuses about work or your dad needing you. He’d show up anyway, all intense eyes and easy grins, and you’d sit there, arms crossed, feeling like a fraud next to him. “You okay?” he’d ask, voice low, and you’d nod, forcing a smile, but inside you were spiraling. Comparing yourself to every tanned, leggy girl you’d seen him nod at on the Cut, imagining him waking up one day and realizing he could do better. The distance grew—days between seeing him stretched into weeks. You stopped letting him hold you, stopped laughing at his dumb jokes, building walls he couldn’t climb. He noticed, of course he did—Rafe wasn’t stupid—but you brushed it off, muttering, “I’m just tired,” until it wasn’t a lie anymore.

The breaking point came on a humid night, the air thick with salt and regret. He’d cornered you in your kitchen after you’d dodged him for days, his hands gripping the counter as he stared you down. “What’s going on with you?” he demanded, voice rough. “You’re shutting me out, and I don’t get it.”

You swallowed, heart pounding, the words clawing their way out. “I can’t do this anymore, Rafe. Us—it doesn’t make sense. You don’t belong with someone like me.” Your voice cracked, but you pushed on. “You’ve got all those girls on Figure 8—perfect, gorgeous girls—and I’m just… me. I don’t know why you’re even here.”

His face twisted, disbelief turning to desperation. “Are you serious? You think I’m just—what, fucking around ‘til something better comes along?” He stepped closer, hands reaching for you, but you backed away. “I’m here because I want you. I don’t give a shit about those girls—they’re not you, they’ll never be you.”

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head. “You say that now, but you’ll see it eventually. I’m not enough. I’ve never been enough.” Your chest heaved, the self-loathing you’d buried spilling out. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure that out.”

“No—don’t do this,” he pleaded, voice breaking as he grabbed your wrists, pulling you toward him. “I love you, alright? I fucking love you, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re enough—more than enough. You’re everything.” His grip tightened, eyes wild, like he could physically hold you together. “Tell me what to do, baby. Tell me how to prove it.”

But it was too much—his words, his touch, the hope in his voice you couldn’t let yourself trust. You wrenched free, sobbing, “I can’t,” and stumbled to the door, grabbing your keys. He followed, begging, “Please, don’t walk out—don’t leave me like this,” but you couldn’t look back. You ran into the night, tears streaming, the sound of his voice cracking on your name echoing in your head as you drove off, leaving him standing there, broken.

Weeks bled into months. You avoided the Wreck, the docks, anywhere he might show up. Your days were gray, hollow, the ache of missing him warring with the certainty you’d done the right thing. But Rafe didn’t fade. He left voicemails you deleted without listening, sent texts you couldn’t bear to read, even slipped notes under your door—“You’re wrong about me. I’m still here.” Your dad grumbled about “that damn Cameron kid” lurking around, and JJ told you he’d seen Rafe looking like a ghost, hollow-eyed and quiet. It hurt to know he was hurting, but you told yourself he’d move on, find someone who fit his world.

Then one night, a storm rolled in, rain hammering your roof, and a knock shook your door. You opened it, and there he was—drenched, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes red-rimmed but burning. “I can’t do this without you,” he said, voice raw. “I tried—I fucking tried to let you go, but I can’t. You’re not a joke, you’re not less than anyone. You’re mine, and I don’t care how long it takes—I’ll keep proving it ‘til you believe me.”

You stood there, soaked in the rain spilling through the open door, tears mixing with the wet on your face. “Rafe, I’m scared,” you whispered, the truth finally free. “I don’t know how to be enough for you.”

He stepped in, closing the distance, hands cupping your face like you might break. “You don’t have to be anything but you. I see you—every part of you—and I’m not running. I’m not those girls, I’m not my family. I’m yours.” His lips crashed into yours, desperate and sure, and for once, you let yourself fall—into him, into the messy, real thing you’d been too afraid to want.

taglist: @littlelamy @drewstarkeyswife0 @icaqttt

[simpforbbarnes]

Dust and Destiny pt.6

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Stark!reader

Summary : Bucky Barnes and you used to be lovers , madly in love. But you lost him in the blip and lost him again after the blip because he need to “find himself”.

Warning : cursing

Words : 2.1k words

I am so sorry for the late post :( im not feeling well and just getting better now :)

Previous Part (pt.5) | Part 6 | Next Part ( pt.7 )

—————————-

The unspoken tension

Joaquin is still standing there, wide-eyed, arms crossed as if he just walked straight into a live grenade.He turns to Sam, muttering under his breath, “Okay. So. Just to be clear. That was not a normal team meeting, right?”

Sam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not even close.”Joaquin exhales. “Good. Because I genuinely thought I was about to die in there.”

Sam huffs out a laugh, but it’s tired. Joaquin hesitates, glancing toward the door. “So… what the hell was that?”

Sam looks at him. Really looks at him.

And then, with a heavy breath, he says, “That? That was seven years of grief, heartbreak, and trauma finally catching up to all of us.”

Joaquin frowns. “I mean, yeah, I got that part. But what’s the deal with her and Barnes?”. Sam sighs. “That, my friend, is a whole other can of worms.”

Joaquin raises a brow. “Give me the short version.”

Sam rubs a hand down his face. “The short version? They were in love. She lost him to the Blip for five years. She risked her life to bring him back. And when she did?”

Joaquin waits. Sam exhales sharply.

“He left her.”

Joaquin blinks. “Damn.”. “Yeah,” Sam mutters. “Damn.”

Joaquin shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, uh- remind me to never walk into something like this again.”. Sam snorts. “Oh, trust me, you don’t need reminding.”

Joaquin crosses his arms, still processing everything. Then, after a beat, he turns to Sam and asks,

“So… how did they even meet?”

Sam lets out a breath, shaking his head like he’s been waiting for that question. “Man. That is a long-ass story.”

Joaquin smirks. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam huffs a laugh, leaning back against the table. “Alright. Buckle up, Torres, because this one’s a rollercoaster.”

Joaquin raises an eyebrow. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Sam exhales, glancing toward the door where you and Tony had both walked out. His expression softens just a bit.

“It was back where Sokovia Accords kinda shit, tony versus Steve beef,” Sam starts, voice lower now, like he’s telling some old legend. “Bucky was still on the run, brainwashing still messing with his head. And her?” He huffs. “She was still just Stark’s daughter back then. Smart as hell, but young.. hell, we were all young.”

Joaquin leans in slightly. “So what happened?” Sam smirks. “She met him. And from the second she did? It was game over.”

Joaquin tilts his head. “Love at first sight?”

Sam chuckles. “More like enemies to whatever-the-hell-this-is.” Joaquin grins. “Sounds messy.”

“Oh, it was,” Sam confirms. “She was supposed to hate him. Did hate him, at first. But that girl’s got a heart bigger than her damn ego, and Bucky?” He shakes his head. “Man, I don’t know what it was, but something in him just… gravitated toward her.”

Joaquin listens, intrigued. “And then what?” Sam gives him a look. “And then they spent years dancing around each other. Fighting, saving each other’s asses, getting way too close but never close enough. Until finally?” He exhales. “They stopped running.”

Joaquin nods slowly, piecing it all together. “And then the Blip happened.” Sam nods. “Yeah.”

“And she lost him.”

“For five years,” Sam emphasizes, voice tinged with something sad. “And when she finally got him back?”

Joaquin already knows the answer. “He left.”

Sam sighs. “Yeah. He left.”

Joaquin leans back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Okay, yeah, I definitely shouldn’t have come here today.”

Sam snorts. “Told you.” Joaquin shakes his head, still wrapping his head around it. “So what now?”

Sam glances toward the door again, his expression unreadable. “Now?” he says. “Now we wait for the fallout.”

Joaquin smirks, tilting his head as an idea sparks in his mind.

“Or…” he drawls, crossing his arms with a grin. “Let me be the knight in shining armor.”

Sam immediately groans. “Oh, hell no.”

Joaquin raises an eyebrow. “What? She’s single, I’m single, and let’s be real, have you seen me?” He gestures to himself. “I’m a damn catch.”

Sam looks like he’s fighting for his life not to smack him upside the head. “Torres. Listen to me very carefully.” He leans in, lowering his voice. “That woman? She’s been through hell. And if you so much as think about playing games-”

Joaquin holds up his hands, mock offense on his face. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said anything about playing games? I’m just saying, maybe she needs a distraction.” He smirks. “And who better than me?”

Sam deadpans. “You really got a death wish, huh?”

Joaquin just shrugs, still grinning. “Hey, if Barnes doesn’t want her, someone’s gotta step up.”

Sam stares at him for a long moment. Then, he exhales, shaking his head. “You know what? Fine. Go ahead.”

Joaquin blinks. “Wait, really?”

Sam nods. “Yeah. Go be her knight in shining armor.” Then, his lips twitch into a knowing smirk. “Just don’t cry to me when Barnes rips your head off.”

Joaquin falters slightly. “…He wouldn’t actually-”

Sam claps a hand on his shoulder, grin widening. “Good luck, lover boy.”

Joaquin swallows, his smirk faltering slightly as he glances at Sam again.

“He’s really gonna rip my head off?”

Sam doesn’t even hesitate. “Oh, absolutely”. Joaquin blinks. “Like… actually?”

Sam crosses his arms, giving him a pointed look. “You see the metal arm, right? The one that could punch through a truck like it’s cardboard?”

Joaquin shifts uncomfortably. “Okay, but-hypothetically-what if he, I don’t know, doesn’t kill me?”

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Then you’d be the first.”Joaquin scoffs. “Come on, he’s not that bad.”Sam just stares.Joaquin hesitates. “…Right?”

Sam exhales, shaking his head. “Listen, Torres. I like you. You’re a good guy. But if you go anywhere near her?” He whistles low. “Let’s just say, I don’t think they make caskets pretty enough for what Barnes is gonna do to you.”

Joaquin rubs a hand over his face. “Shit.”

Sam grins, clapping him on the back. “Hey, at least you’ll die pretty.”

Joaquin groans. “You’re so supportive, man.”

“Hey, I’m just being honest,” Sam says, shrugging. “And I’d rather you hear it from me than from Barnes- because trust me, his warning would involve a lot more broken bones.”

Joaquin throws his hands up. “Okay, but let’s think about this for a second. Maybe just maybe he doesn’t care anymore. Maybe he’s moved on, and he won’t even—”

Sam cuts him off with a laugh so sharp and disbelieving that Joaquin physically flinches.

“Oh, Torres,” Sam says, shaking his head. “You sweet, naive little idiot.”

Joaquin frowns. “Why do I feel insulted right now?”

“Because you should,” Sam tells him. “Barnes still cares. Deeply. And if you think he’s just gonna sit back and let you swoop in like some knight in shining armor?” Sam chuckles darkly. “You got another thing coming.”

Joaquin clicks his tongue, thinking it over. “Okay. Alright. But what if she actually wants me to swoop in?”. Sam raises a brow. “You sure you wanna test that theory?”

Joaquin hesitates. “…Not anymore.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “Smart man.” Then, after a beat, he smirks. “But, hey—if you do wanna test it, just let me know first. I’d love a front-row seat to the ass-whooping Barnes is gonna give you.”

Joaquin glares. “You are the worst wingman ever.”

Sam grins, completely unbothered. “Nah, I’m just trying to keep you alive.”

But Sam knows better. Joaquin will try even after the warning.

…..

The compound is quiet. Too quiet.

You’re sitting in the kitchen, nursing a drink, staring blankly at the countertop. The day had been… exhausting. Between the mission, the confrontation with Bucky, and Joaquin’s sudden presence stirring things up, your brain feels like it’s been through a blender.

And then, because the universe clearly isn’t done fucking with you, he walks in. Bucky stops when he sees you, his jaw tightening. For a second, he looks like he’s debating whether to turn around and leave.

You roll your eyes. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Barnes. I’m not gonna run just because you’re here.”

His lips press together, and then because he’s just as stubborn as you… he steps further inside, heading toward the fridge. “Didn’t say you would.” You snort. “Right. Because you’re the expert on not running.”

Bucky freezes for half a second, his fingers gripping the fridge handle a little too tightly. Then, he exhales through his nose, pulling out a water bottle. “You’re never gonna let that go, huh?”

You scoff. “You left, Bucky. Twice. What, do you expect me to just pretend like that didn’t destroy me?”

His blue eyes flicker to you, something dark and guilty lurking behind them. He doesn’t say anything.

You shake your head, taking another sip of your drink. “It’s funny, you know. We used to- .” Your cut your words, your voice falters slightly, but you push through it. “Now I don’t even know what we are.”

Bucky swallows, gripping the water bottle like it’s the only thing grounding him. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Yeah?” You let out a bitter laugh. “Well, congratulations, James. You did anyway.”

Silence. Thick. Heavy.

And then, because fate has the worst timing, Joaquin’s voice rings out from the hallway.

“There you are, Stark! I’ve been looking-” He stops in his tracks when he sees you and Bucky, the tension in the air practically suffocating. “…Oh. Shit. Should I, uh—?”

Bucky’s entire posture shifts. His jaw clenches, shoulders tensing, like he’s preparing for battle. Joaquin notices, and because he’s either bold or completely reckless, he smirks.

“Well,” Joaquin drawls, stepping further inside. “This is awkward.” You sigh, rubbing your temple. “What do you want, Torres?”

Joaquin leans against the counter next to you, eyes glancing between you and Bucky like he’s trying to piece something together. “Was just gonna ask if you wanted to take a walk.” He smirks again, looking directly at Bucky this time. “Unless you’re busy?”

Bucky’s grip tightens around the water bottle. You glance between them, realizing exactly what Joaquin is doing. And for some reason… you let him.

You set down your drink, standing up. “You know what? A walk sounds nice.” Joaquin grins, throwing a glance at Bucky. “Cool. Let’s go.”

As you walk past Bucky, you swear you hear the plastic of the water bottle crack in his grip.

You don’t look back.

….

The night air is cool against your skin as you and Joaquin walk side by side, the compound fading into the background. There’s a quiet ease to the moment, but the weight of everything still lingers in your chest.

Joaquin exhales, shaking his head. “Man… I really should’ve stayed home today.”

You snort. “Yeah? What gave it away?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, counting on his fingers. “The insane tension, the death glare from Barnes, the way you looked like you were gonna throw a punch at any second.” He smirks. “Seriously, Stark. That was some heavy shit back there.”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Yeah. Welcome to my life.”

Joaquin glances at you, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read between the lines. “So… you and him. That’s some real history, huh?”

You hesitate, then nod. “Yeah.” He hums in thought. “And you still love him.”

and you still love him. It’s not a question.

You swallow hard, keeping your gaze forward. “Doesn’t really matter.” Joaquin watches you for a second before shaking his head. “You say that, but I don’t think you believe it.”

You huff out a dry laugh. “You a mind reader now, Torres?”

“Nah.” He grins. “Just really observant.”

Something in his tone makes you pause, and when you turn to look at him, there’s something in his eyes… something unreadable, but warm.

He tilts his head slightly, studying you. “You know… I get the feeling you don’t let a lot of people in.”

You hesitate, caught off guard by the shift in his voice. “Not really.”

Joaquin nods, like he already knew that. “Well, if you ever wanna let someone else in…” He gives you a small, knowing smirk. “Just say the word.”

Your breath catches slightly. It’s subtle- not a declaration, not a grand confession. But it’s there. The interest. The possibility.

And for the first time in years… it makes you think. You shake your head, smiling just a little. “You really don’t have a survival instinct, do you?”

Joaquin chuckles. “Hey, what’s life without a little risk?” You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully. “You’re insane.”

He grins. “You have no idea.”

And as you both make your way back toward the compound, you realize something..

Bucky Barnes may still hold pieces of you… but Joaquin Torres?

He’s starting to see you.

Taglist : (lmk if you wanna be apart of my taglist ♡) @sebbymybaby21 @learisa @julvrs @chuiisi @caity1995 @wintercrows @greatenthusiasttidalwave @natxandra @drop-cherries @sebastians-love

[lologoinsolo]

In The Shadows

Chapter 6, Chapter 7

In The Shadows Masterlist

TW: I personally don’t think there’s any triggers in here BUT. There is talks of how Gaz views the people in the town and he likens them to a cow sooooooo yeah

“Hey, you okay?” Gaz knocks a light tap on the glass. You must’ve been in too long of a thought for him to have to ask. Once he gains your attention again he speaks, “Soap’s been talking about you so much. Wanted to see you for myself.” His eyes seem warmer than Soap’s bright blues. “You’re beautiful,” his eyes trail you up and down. There’s not much light save for what the full moon gives but he and Soap always find you easily. Were you ever able to hide?

You can’t seem to find your words. Your tongue twisted into knots as your fingers tightened over your old shirt that you’ll be needing to wash with the amount of sweat growing.

“Are you sleepy or nervous? Must be both by now,” he says, cooing at you gently, playing the part of a dashing gentleman. If there wasn’t a sharpness to his teeth you probably would’ve forgotten just what he is. “it’s alright, promise I’m not a right bastard like Soap. I swear he doesn’t know how to act around pretty birds like you.” And you do? You nod slowly at him and he's pleased but only for so long. Tapping just once on the glass, “talk to me.” Again, not a question but not a demand either from how his tone is so velvety soft.

Your knees bounces slightly, it’s inevitable that you’ll have to keep up a conversation with him. You wished and maybe hoped that he’d say a little piece and be off but no. He waits for you to get comfortable enough to talk once more. Your body might be a live wire but your brain is actively looking for a way to just sleep. You’re not like these creatures that come knocking at night. You need your sleep and maybe they do too but at least you don’t go banging on the walls or tapping at their windows.

“Comfortable yet?” He asks, albeit there’s something prickly in his warm eyes. Maybe it was always there but you haven’t noticed till now. “You look all soft and sweet sitting there.”

Sweet… “Gaz likes them sweet.. tastes better to him..” Soap’s words that he used earlier have become a wisdom of caution that snaps you out of your silence. “Yeah,” your tone is short and he blinks, the first one to do so. “I’m fine, it’s nice.” The chair being nice but your hips ache from sitting for so long and so does your neck from how it was bent back. You’ll have to massage it come morning. “Could be better.” You’ll probably be too tired to do much so maybe you won’t get that massage.

His shoulders shake a little as he grins. His deceptively warm eyes sucking you in even as you try to be pointed with him. “Have I upset you? Haven’t even spoken to you till now.” He sounds genuine but you know better.

“Soap didn’t tell me I’d get another visitor.” It’s the honest truth but you don’t know if Soap’s made mention to him that he told you what Gaz does at the Townhouse. “Forgive me for being unprepared.” If Soap had told you before running off like he did that Gaz would be here then maybe you’d be acting better than you are.

“Apology accepted, sweetheart.”

You can’t hide your scowl now. Your arms crossing tightly over your chest. “Where’s Soap?” At least Soap is easier to manage… sorta. Gaz plays the part of gentleman extremely well, he’s the kinda guy you’d take to your parents after the second date. The one you’d make scrapbooks for a future wedding before an ‘I love you’ is even said. It’s why you’re so on edge right now. What’s his game? You do your best to choke down your own anger before it gets the better of you. Pissing Gaz off will do you no favors and it sure as hell won't keep Erin safe. Before you can apologize, even when you don’t want to, he answers your question easily.

“He’ll be pleased to know you miss him.” There’s his dazzling smile once more. If your attitude makes him upset then he’s hard pressed to say anything. With Soap you knew he’d get upset by the sound of his accent deepening and how his skin would stretch tight. Gaz gives nothing but a smile and sharp eyes. “To answer your question.” He leans more of his weight to his right side, “he’s off hunting.”

You stiffen a bit. Hunting could mean he’s looking for an unsuspecting animal or… he’s going after a human stupid enough to actually be outside. Is that why he left so suddenly? You have an urge to grab your binoculars to look out but Gaz is standing in the way of you seeing anything important. “What’s… what’s he hunting?” You ask, curiosity and worry bubbling up in your heart. You hope it’s not a person, you hope it’s a rabbit or a bird that’s caught his eye. Something that won’t scream and haunt your nightmares.

His head tilts, “do you really want to know?” His voice sounds amused now, “curiosity ate the cat from all the questions the cat asked after all.” That’s not how the saying goes but perhaps here things are different.

You swallow and shake your head ‘no’ quickly. “Nevermind then.” It doesn’t matter. Deep down you don’t want to know. It’s not like you’ll be able to do anything if it was one of the townsfolk. You’re not a runner, you’d just get in the way and then you’d be their meal. As selfish as it sounds… you don’t know if you’d ever leave your home to save another.

You’re stuck in this cage just as much as your visitors are stuck in their nature. They won’t change their ways anymore than you’ll decide at random to open the door or pull the nails off the windowsill to open the window.

He hums a little tune, one that sounds vaguely familiar. The same one that Soap hums, the same notes from when you were at the dinner with Erin for the first time. The same song Gaz himself hummed when he spotted you at the Townhouse.

“That,” you start and he perks up, “that song.” He nods as if to encourage you, “you and Soap hum that a lot.” The question is why? Why that song in particular?

“Catchy isn’t it?” It’s your turn to nod albeit unsure, “heard Soap humming it a while back and now it’s stuck in here.” Tapping his forehead. He grins a little grin, “must be stuck in yours too for you to have noticed.”

That song isn’t stuck, it follows you. Sometimes you’ll hear it in your nightmares. Especially in the one that’s been plaguing you here recently. Sometimes they’re exactly the same and other times they are slightly tweaked.

Running through the forest. Home is just up head even with how dark it is. The branches pick at your skin as you run and then fall. You look up when you hear a laugh, a person blurry to your vision. Like they’re not all there comes into view and blocks your sight to the house. They stand far away and every step that it takes towards you they hum the song.

“Yeah… you could say that.” Shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, no dream has stuck with you like that one does. That one has been coming around too often for your likening and you’ve started considering it to be a warning. “Why,” you bite your lip to reword any sharp tone that could come out. You take a breath and speak to mimic him in a way. “Can I ask why you are here?”

“I told you, sweetheart.” Tutting softly, “Soap talks about you a lot. Wanted to see you for myself.” His eyes roam yours just for the show of it but he lingers and drags for a few seconds over your neck and chest.

That’s not much for you to go on. There’s always a reason with them. There has to be something more. Why now? Why come when Soap’s gone?

“I can’t come see a pretty bird like you?” He asks and you have a half a mind to think he’s getting upset but there’s no difference in how he’s acting. “Are you Soap’s only?” Grinning wide when your eyes open like a deer in headlights.

“No!” You cough as you stumble over your words, “I just meant,” you sigh and pull yourself together before he gets anymore joy out of this. “What I mean is, is that only why you’re here?”

“Nope.” He pops his ‘p’, he teases now. “I figured it’s time we met. It’s not every day that we get something as curious as you. Landed you somewhere you didn’t want to be in, huh?”

Your hand slowly balls into a fist in the fabric of your shorts. There it is. Now you’re getting somewhere with him. “Yeah, you could say that.” To your credit, you don’t grit your teeth or scowl. You keep neutral or as neutral as you can be. Your hand comes to cover your mouth as you yawn loudly. Rubbing your cheek and staring at him, he hasn’t blinked again. His eyes seem hallowed now, that warmth that was there is gone. Artificial like the artificial sunlight lamp you got your grandpa when you got your first paycheck. It was never real and you knew it but why show it now?

“Do you want to know who I’m talking to?” Of course you do, you’ve been racking your brain since Soap threatened you. You want to know. If you can find out who he’s romancing then you can prevent a massacre. He knows this of course, dangling it over your head and raising it higher and higher when you reach for it.

“Yes.” No point in lying. No point in pretending otherwise like he and Soap and the rest of his friends do.

He brings a finger to tap at his chin in thought. “Now, why should I tell you?” There’s an offer in there, persuade him. Make him give you the answer you so desperately want.

But what can you offer death? What does death even want?

“You can have me.” That’s all you can give. “I’ll open the door to you tomorrow night. You can kill me however you want if you tell me who you’re talking to.” You’ll tell the sheriff once Gaz gives you the answer and then tomorrow night you’ll drink yourself to numbness and wait for hands to rip you apart. At least it’ll be your choice, you’ll be selfish to drink liquor. All their other victims weren’t allowed to prepare but you’ll take your death willingly if it means your only friend in the Townhouse will be safe.

It must be a good deal with how his smile widens but everything sours when he tosses his head back to laugh loudly. He laughs as if you’ve told something so hilarious that even a professional comedian couldn’t hold a candle to you. Maybe you are laughable in saying something like that.

“One meal against how many in there?” He rolls his head to look back at you. Moving up and down on the balls of his feet before settling once more. “Let’s see,” He counts on his fingers the bodies that live in the Townhouse. Each count makes your chest squeeze, he and his friends are incredibly greedy you realize. Hounding for something bigger than what your body can give. For the first time in your life you’re the smallest compared to the rest. Gaz makes a disappointed whistle, “doesn’t seem like a fair trade, don’t you think, sweetheart?” Patronizingly sympathetic as he speaks, maybe he’d pat your head if he was inside the house.

Your teeth grind, he has you against a corner. Backed you in there and made you see that you’re not all that. What else can you offer him?

“Nothing,” he says as if he’s in your head. You stare wide eyed for a fraction of a second, “there’s nothing you can give me.” That forehead of his falls to the glass and you see him clearly for what he is. Despite the kindness and warmth he’s shown, he sheds it fast. “The only reason I haven’t gotten my meal is because now I’m made to wait.” His skin, like Soap’s, stretches little by little. Pulls back and keeps whatever straining to get out to stay put. “Eating you won't satisfy me the way that one will.”

“Because I don’t love you?” Snapping quickly at him and he just grins. You’d liken him to a wolf and a cat with his teeth show.

“Soap told you what I like, hmm?” Licking over his lips, his skin stops thinning out and he’s slowly pulled right back to normal. He’s right back to being a charming man, nothing monstrous underneath him at all. “Can’t blame a guy for wanting something sweet to love him.” He sighs longingly, “sweets are something I prefer. Tastes better on the tongue more than salt, don’t you think?”

Your brows twitch, “you’ll kill him though.” It’s a long shot if he’ll correct you on the gender. You’re hoping to narrow down the men from the women in the Townhouse. “He’ll open the door to you and then you’ll kill him as the rest of your friends will kill everyone else just so you can eat.” It makes you sick to your stomach to even mention it. If you had eaten earlier maybe bile would’ve come up.

There’s an annoyed scoff from him that dampens your bravado. “Do you feel sad when a cow is slaughtered for you to quench your hunger?” His eyes darken, the brown blurring to black as his hand lands on the window. Soaps eyes brightened like an electric blue but Gaz’s deepens like the abyss, reminds you of Mask’s soulless eyes.

“Is that what he is then? Just a cow for you to cut open?” You trail on, is that all anyone breathing is to these creatures? “Never mind that he—“

“You keep saying he,” cold washes over you as his head turns like a cat does to its bird. He watches you with intense observation. You flapped your wings too hard and he caught wind of what you're trying to do. “Clever little minx. Tried to get me to slip up, didn’t you? Thought I’d give something of a detail away to you?” Your heartbeat quickens and he shushes you, probably smelling your anxiety the way Soap can. “It’s no fun if you can narrow down who my ‘cow’ is and even if I did tell you,” he whispers and your ears strain. “What would stop me from going to the Townhouse to just kill them right now once their name is known to you?”

“I—“

“You?” Gaz laughs but there’s no joy in it but sick pleasure. “You’ll what, sweetheart?” Your eyes fall as does your shoulders, “oh don’t look like that. You tried your best, almost had me slip.” He says but it could just be a lie. “How about this,” he sighs like there’s just no way to please you. “I’ll tell you if you give me an exchange?” He sees the tiniest form of confusion and Gaz smiles like prior, “give me ten people and I’ll tell you the name.”

“Ten?” Ten names? But that’s not it and you know it. “I…” what’s to stop him and his friends from still going after the Townhouse. You’ll kill just to get a name and then what? Will they stop? “I-I can’t,” your minds jumbling together, so many pros and cons smashing and making it difficult to be steady in your voice. “I won’t do that.” Who’s to say he or his friends wouldn’t make you do it again?

“Then happy hunting,” he grins and stands. Your heart lurches to your throat as you stand quickly. Your chair is thrown backwards as you press against the window.

“Wait! Wait,” he hasn’t moved, “where are you going? Don’t—“ his index finger comes up and curls over the glass where your face would have been touched if there was no barrier. He crouches once more so he can be better leveled with you.

“I’m not allowed to have my meal just yet.” Your heart doesn’t ease when you hear that but at least the Townhouse gets another night. “The Captain will be speaking with you soon enough.” He rubs his index up and down and you swear you could feel it against your cheek. Whoever this Captain is, you don’t want to meet him but there’s no choice here. There never has been. Gaz speaks softer now, a gentleness that he puts on just for you. “Get some sleep, the suns gonna be coming up in an hour or so.” He leans back so he can look at how the night sky has become lighter.

You don’t say anything as he stands up once more. He jumps down like Soap did and you’re quick to grab your binoculars to watch him. He passes the sheriffs office and keeps heading north till he disappears into the woods. You follow the tree line, looking to see if anyone else is there but your back tenses when it is Mask that you find staring back at you.

He makes no motion, makes no move to turn away. Just stares at you, his boney mask shining better with the night sky that begins to ebb into just the tiniest sliver of sunrise yellow. Mask eventually fades into the woods leaving you to worriedly ponder over everything.

Eventually you toss your binoculars on the bed. You can’t sleep, Frank is coming around with food and even though you’re exhausted you are also hungry for something to eat. Your stomach growls and growls even longer as you sit on the ground. Your head against the wood of the windows edge, the bed is too enticing and even touching it could make you pass out. So you just wait for the coming—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

It’s softer than Soap’s and your eyes, try as you might, have to be forced open since they closed without your permission. You stand with a groan as you faintly hear the old man yelling for you to, “come on down, can’t stay asleep forever!” Snorting a heafty laugh, as if you could.

Trudging down the stairs is a chore in itself but you get to your door and open it up for him. He’s got two large brown bags with food for you to use for your week. It smells divine to you, there’s the prettiest red apple that you’ve ever seen peaking out on top and your stomach growls so loud that Frank cocks a worried brow.

“Need food in your stomach,” as he states the obvious you open the door wider for him to step in. “And sleep,” of course he’d notice that, “you look like you’ve been run through the ringer.” He laughs to himself as he sits the bags on the kitchens counter. You try to put them up but he smacks your hand. “Go sit before you pass out here. I swear I’ll never understand young people and their need for staying up late.”

You rub your hand, you could argue with him but all your energy is being put into standing still long enough and then for taking heavy steps to fall on your couch. You faintly hear him rummaging about your kitchen. Muttering under his breath about the cast iron needing help and it doesn’t take long for sleep to take you. It’s safe to sleep with him your mind must think.

He must’ve let you sleep for longer than you would’ve liked when he rouses you, “lunch?” He offers with a plate of breakfast and a kind smile on his face. “It might not taste good, my mom didn’t teach me all that much but I can make a mean omelette.” It looks good and he sells himself short on his cooking.

You hork it down fast not even listening to him chastising you about how you’ll choke. He shoves cup of water in your hand and takes the plate from you so he can clean it. Doesn’t need to clean much since you licked it clean or so he says. He must’ve already ate because he didn’t eat with you and that does make you feel just a bit guilty since you were supposed to eat with him. “Oh well,” you sigh and he pokes a head back.

“What’s that?”

Your head falls on the back of the couch as you peer to look at him. “Sorry for sleeping, I’ve uh..” god, what can you say? What can you tell him without something bad happening? “I’ve got—“

“Nightmares?” He offers and you simply nod. Not a lie but also not a truth. He sighs, making his way to sit on the recliner, “wanna talk… about it?” Rubbing his neck and he looks away before looking at you.

“Not really.”

“That’s fine,” he murmurs, “you don’t have to but,” his fingers tap on his knee, “if you want to. You can tell me. Promise I won’t tell a soul.” He laughs slightly to ease the awkwardness. He’s used to giving orders and keeping people safe, he lends and ear and a shoulder whenever he can but that doesn’t mean that he’s good with this. “I get my fair share of nightmares too.”

“Really?” Makes sense, you turn a bit on your side to lay down fully on your couch. “Mines not something that makes any sense. Too many things and not enough time to figure them out.”

“You wanna figure them out?”

Shrugging your shoulders, “I’m curious.” About your recurring dream and your visitors. He doesn’t need to know about the visitors though.

“You know what they say about curiosity,” he hums with a knowing tone, “curiosity eats the cat when it asks too many questions.” Rolling his eyes just as you scoff. “It’s the truth, sometimes things are better left unlearned.” He rocks now, the point of his shoes pushes off so the recliner will move. “Must be some dream if it’s bothering you so much.”

“It’s… yeah, it is something.” Curling up as best as you can. For a moment you can pretend it’s your grandpa talking to you, for a moment you can pretend you’re back home in that trailer with that old air conditioning that hums. Can even pretend to smell the leather from your old couch to this fabric couch and pretend it’s your grandpa that made you breakfast. Just pretend for even a second that you’re somewhere safe and loved.

“Hey?”

You hide your face, you blame how tired you are for starting to cry so easily. It’s not fair. Why does Frank have to be so nice and observant?

“You okay, hun?” Thankfully he doesn’t stand up but there’s an old gentleness in his eyes that makes you wish you were blind.

“I’m just tired gr— Frank,” biting on your lip when you nearly slip up. “I’m just really tired.”

“I know,” he murmurs softly and the sound of the recliner squeaking comes to a stop. You silently cry and he stays seated, probably because he doesn’t know if he should hug you or tell you the lie that everything is going to be okay. “You know,” he starts as you blink in rapid succession to stop any newer tears. “I used to have this nice barbecue grill,” he stands finally and sits down on the floor. His back to the couch as he nears you but doesn’t make you do anything to move. “God, I loved that thing. Me and my dad,” he makes a sharp whistle, “we’d try to outdo each other.”

Sniffling, “really?” Wiping the stray tears from your cheeks as you look at him.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “one time though.” He rolls his sleeve up on his right arm. A strip of a nasty looking burn mark is faded but still telling, “I got too excited. Hurt myself real bad, some kids,” he sighs at the painful, old memory, “some made fun of me and it made me real sad. Messed with my head a lot and I finally just went and told my dad about it and you know what he said?” Frank turns his head to you, you give him a turn of your head for him to continue wordlessly. “He said, “Frankie, you can let those voices hurt you or you can tell them to shut up and keep going” needless to say, I’m still here.” He gives a tentative pat to your knee. “Listen, kid, I don’t know what’s going on up in there.” Motioning to your head, “it might really be dreams or something else you’re not telling me, and you don’t have to say just what, but whatever’s messing with your head. Sometimes,” he pats again a bit more firmly, “sometimes you just gotta ignore it.”

“This place will chew you up and spit you back out,” parroting what he told you the day you came to the house. Not exactly the same but close enough and he smiles.

“Exactly,” his hand moves but he’s yet to get off the floor. Too old to move too quickly anymore, “don’t let this place change you. If you want me to stay the night then I can do that. Or if you want me to start coming over to make breakfast for you I can.” He offers, “I’m no stranger to spending the night. Sometimes people just need a new perspective, you know? Or sometimes they feel safer with the ‘sheriff’ coming around.” His fingers make a dramatic gesture of quotations around the word. “Don’t want to toot my own horn but I like to think I can be a nice shoulder to lean on. Even for hermit kids like you.”

The good feeling is gone and you sit up just to shove him and he groans like he’s been shot. Ever dramatic in how he bends over.

“Hurting the elderly is a crime here,” he cries as he gets on his back to look up at the ceiling, “I’m never making you an omelette again.” Glaring half heartedly but he’s glad to see you smiling once more.

“Not even if I try to find a grill?” Tempting him like the snake did.

He sits up and his bones pop, “if you find a good enough grill then I’ll make you as many omelettes as you want.”

“So long as I get some ribs. I’d kill for those.”

“And a nice steak?” His hands rub together as an invisible cloud bubble forms over both your heads of all the things you could make on a grill. Eventually you both talk so much about it that you feel better than you did. Can’t even remember why you cried in the first place but you’re grateful for his company.

He gets to leaving albeit he was slow to get going. Apparently his hip has been acting up lately and you offered to help him with making the rounds around the town but he brushed you off. “Get some sleep, kid, if you ever need me to stay or need some old man advice just tell me you need an omelette.” A secret code that only you both will know and understand, “might get eggshells in them from time to time but everyone needs their calcium.” His brows wiggle and your eye rolls hard.

Once he’s gone you’re left alone in this big house. You feel lighter than before. If there was a safer way to tell him what’s really going on then maybe you and him can make a plan. Gaz gave you nothing to work with but he did seem upset about you saying his… cow… is a man. Maybe his ‘love’ isn’t a man but a woman? You head to your kitchen to find everything has been cleaned and put away. Hardly anything to do besides wait for night to come. You could go to your garden but you’d rather just stay in for the day. Tomorrow you’ll garden, you’ll get the little slice of peace back even with the growing pressure.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Raven I’m reading the Tapis Rouge event on eng server and I’ve noticed this weird pattern with Ace? He was asking us if we’ve ever heard of Beautiful Queen, despite the fact that he knows we wouldn’t since we’re from another world, and he did the same thing in the Wish Upon a Star Event where he asks us “have you really never heard of Wish Upon a Star?” It’s like ??? Dude? You know I’m not from here? That stuff doesn’t exist back home. I mean, I can get staying in Twisted Wonderland long enough to hear about a few things but he acts like us knowing this stuff should be common sense to us even though he’s very well aware it’s not. 😭

To be fair to Ace, he’s not the only character that does this! For example, Lilia and Kalim are surprised that Yuu and Grim are unfamiliar with how they celebrate Halloween and that they don’t know what the Scalding Sands Fireworks Festival is. In the case of Halloween, Lilia is later pleased to hear that Yuu also has this holiday in another world. (In case you’re confused, the dialogue littered across Twst implies that it is common knowledge among NRC students and even staff that Yuu is from another world.)

It is true that Ace is frequently guilty of being surprised at Yuu not knowing about various Twisted Wonderland things. If I had to guess, he probably does it the most of the characters in the main cast. Just off the top of my head, there’s the prologue, book 2, Happy Beans Day, Wish Upon a Star, and Tapis Rouge (Red Carpet Cadets in EN).

I don’t think it’s an issue of Ace getting convenient amnesia (as this is a consistent thing in the main story too, not just events which are non-canonical) or intentionally saying it to be annoying despite knowing better. To me, it reads as Ace genuinely being ignorant + not being able to imagine what it’s like to be from another world and/or expecting them to know better. He seems to assume Yuu’s world is like Twisted Wonderland, or he expects that Yuu should be able to quickly pick up on things that are commonly known in Twisted Wonderland like he has.

To my first point, Ace is portrayed as flippant and not taking things seriously. He’s often not paying attention in class or finding ways to dodge doing work. More importantly, he’s also shown to be ignorant and to not know a lot about things beyond his own interests and narrow understanding of the world. Two major examples are in Jack’s Ceremonial Robes vignettes, in which Ace assumes that Jack, a beastman, MUST come from Sunset Savanna, and also generalizes the people of the Shaftlands (despite being a massive plot of land) as being a certain way. Riddle has to correct his dorm member. This indicates to me that Ace would make similar assumptions of what Yuu’s world is like, based heavily on his own understanding of how the world works. And if Twisted Wonderland is all Ace knows, why wouldn’t he default to that as the “norm” for Yuu’s world too?

To my second point, Ace has a particular talent for mimicry in many things. He can pick up dance moves, do vocal impressions, and has a sharp memory that allows him to relay mole language after hearing it demonstrated just once. Ace is also an opportunist, quick to adapt to a situation in order to get his way. For example, he cozies up to Leona in Endless Halloween Night so that he’d be spared from Floyd’s antics and tries to sneak snacks when he believes Vil isn’t watching. At the dame time, Ace is known to tease others (mainly Deuce) for not being able to be as quick to pick up on the situation or on new skills as he is. Considering all of these points, it’s not too far of a stretch to think that Ace would tease Yuu for similar shortcomings.

Speaking of Deuce, he mentions in Wish Upon a Star that it makes sense that Yuu wouldn’t know the holiday, since they’re from another world:

This reaction makes sense for Deuce’s character. While Deuce is equally as clueless about certain things (math, his own hometown, etc.), he’s still overall the more grounded and considerate of the Adeuce duo. On top of that, he’s having his own problems developing into the honors student ideal he aims for, so he doesn’t hold it against others when they’re not aware of something. Deuce and Ace may both be a part of Yuu’s friend circle, but they are very different people and react in different ways as a result of that.

[thethingsidolmao]

How SEVENTEEN Would React If Their S/O Texted "I Can't Call Right Now Because I'm Crying" 😢💬

S.COUPS

Leader mode activated. Immediately calls you anyway despite your text. If you don’t pick up, expect multiple texts checking in: "I don’t care if you can’t call, just let me know if you’re safe. I’m coming over if you need me." He’ll drop everything to be with you, offering warm hugs and strong, grounding reassurance.

JEONGHAN

Doesn’t panic, but he's concerned. Replies with: "Why, baby? What happened?" He’ll respect your space but keeps texting little comforting messages while thinking of ways to cheer you up. If it’s serious, he might sneakily get one of your friends to check in on you, just to be sure you’re okay.

JOSHUA

Immediately softens. "Oh no, angel, what’s wrong?" He’s so gentle about it, sending voice notes with calming reassurances and maybe even a little singing to comfort you. He won’t pressure you to call but will keep texting you sweet little reminders that you’re loved and not alone.

JUN

His heart drops. Replies quickly, "Hey, what happened? Please tell me if there's anything I can do." If you don’t want to talk, he respects that, but expect cute distraction tactics like memes, random photos of his cat, or a funny selfie to try and make you smile. If that doesn’t work, he’s coming over with snacks and hugs.

HOSHI

PANICS. Texts you a barrage of messages: "WHY ARE YOU CRYING?! WHO DO I NEED TO FIGHT?" 😡😭 He’s desperate to make you feel better, sending silly voice notes, pictures of him pulling goofy faces, and assuring you over and over that he’s there for you. If you're nearby, he's running to you immediately.

WONWOO

Wastes no time. Texts back immediately, "I’m here. Do you want me to come over?" If you say no, he still finds a quiet, comforting way to be there—maybe sending you a playlist of calming songs or reminding you that you’re strong. If you open up, he’s 100% all ears, never judging, just holding space for you.

WOOZI

At first, he doesn’t know what to say. Then, "I’m worried about you. Can I do anything?" He’s not always the best with emotions, but he tries so hard for you. If you don’t want to talk, he’ll send a sweet, heartfelt text reminding you how much you mean to him. Later, he’ll check in again to reassure you that he is all yours.

DK

His heart shatters. Texts, "Oh no, baby!! What’s wrong? Please let me help." Even if you don’t want to talk, he’ll send the sweetest, most comforting messages, promising that things will get better. Might even send a voice note singing a soft song to calm you down. If you let him, he will 100% cuddle you until you feel better.

MINGYU

Freaks out. "Wait, what? Why are you crying?? Tell me, please!" He’s SO WORRIED, pacing around like a lost puppy. If you won’t call, expect a long, heartfelt text reminding you how amazing and loved you are. And if you’re close by? He’s on his way with food, tissues, and the biggest bear hug ever.

THE8

Texts you back immediately: "I’m here. Just talk to me when you’re ready." He doesn’t push, but he wants you to know he’s not going anywhere. He’ll send a comforting voice note, maybe even some calming breathing exercises to help you relax. If he senses you need him, he’s at your door, no questions asked.

SEUNGKWAN

Oh, he is spiraling. "What happened?! Who hurt you?! Do you need me to come over??" He’s so emotional about it, genuinely hurting because you’re hurting. If you don’t want to talk, he’ll leave you the longest, sweetest text ever about how amazing you are and that he’s here no matter what.

VERNON

Replies immediately with: "I’m here if you need me." He’s not the best with words, but he cares so deeply and will just stay present in your messages, never rushing you. Might send a gentle reminder that it’s okay to cry and that you’re not alone. Later, he checks in subtly but sweetly.

DINO

Panics. Like, a lot. "Wait, what?! Why are you crying?? Please tell me!" He hates knowing you’re upset and will not stop texting you until he knows you’re at least a little okay. If you let him, he’s running to see you, wrapping you in a hug and not letting go until you smile.

[wooahoe]

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan vs older brother’s best friend!joshua…

deja vu; aka i think that jeonghan fits this song better but i was trying to write for shua…ft older brother!seungcheol (1.1k-ish words) mlist — 🎧 saranghey❕ryn’s playlist — @maestro-net

many 땡큐 베리 감사s to jay @ppyopulii and sousy @sousydive i cannot write breakups for shit so MWAH ty for the ideas ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

THIS IS NOT POLY MAESTRONET DON’T COME AFTER ME PLS

written in hc format bc im lazy asf sorry gang 😔 also for context shua is a foreign exchange student

—

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan whose sister’s name is gonna be soobin because i’m pretty sure that’s his actual sister’s name? idk he mentioned it in a live once and i’m lazy so yeah

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan whose sister has been your best friend since the beginning of time

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan who also happens to be friends with your older brother

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan who was genuinely a menace when you were younger but he’s chill now less of a menace now

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan who reached out to you in high school, because you had the same biology class and he needed help

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan who claimed that you were the only option he had if he wanted to preserve his ego

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan who doesn’t stop talking to you, even after he stops needing help with homework

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan who tells you that if he gets a higher grade than you on the final exam, he gets to take you out on a date

no, you do not have a choice in the matter

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan who will not stop texting you, asking what you got on the test, ignoring the fact that if he got a higher score than you, you might fuck up your friendship with soobin for good :( and your relationship with seungcheol :(

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan who you find out has asked both seungcheol and soobin for permission to go after you long before you even started the school year (she said yes)

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan who makes you tear up a bit when you read the words across the screen, but he doesn’t need to know that

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan who ends up getting a grade that’s half a point higher and promptly tells you to meet him at the park in ten minutes, because he did not wait an entire semester just to ask you out over text

(older brother!seungcheol who asks you why you’re lowkey crying, and when you respond with jeonghan’s name, he starts swearing only for you to calm him tf down because hello you need him to drive you to the damn park!!)

best friend’s older brother!jeonghan who, within the span of ten minutes, somehow managed to show up with a bouquet of crocheted flowers. which also happen to be your favorite kind.

best friend’s older brother boyfriend!jeonghan is a great boyfriend. he’s attentive, and kind, and he does like to tease you but it’s also jeonghan we’re talking about

boyfriend!jeonghan is the kind of boyfriend that shows up to your class randomly with a gift, because he said it reminded him of you

boyfriend!jeonghan is the kind of boyfriend who wasn’t overly touchy, but still made you feel loved and safe and secure and me when

boyfriend!jeonghan is everything you could’ve asked for. so when he suddenly breaks up with you…

let’s just say that older brother!seungcheol is Not Happy At All and best friend’s older brother!jeonghan better fucking run

guess who’s sitting there while older brother!seungcheol is plotting best friend’s older brother!jeonghan’s demise?

his best friend, joshua motherfucking jisoo hong

older brother’s best friend!joshua, seeing your discomfort, offers to take you out for boba while older brother!seungcheol blows off some steam furiously texting his former friend

older brother’s best friend!joshua is sweet. he’s willing to listen to your side of the story, and god is he every bit the perfect gentleman. i’m talking holding the door open for you, pulling your chair out, paying, etc etc

older brother’s best friend!joshua might just end up being the perfect distraction from your ex

you really need to stop falling for your brother’s friends

older brother’s best friend!joshua, unsurprisingly, likes you back !! thinks you’re really cute

older brother’s best friend!joshua is also hella terrified of older brother!seungcheol, (esp after yjh) so he’s a little cautious about showing affection

older brother’s best friend!joshua, however, is a green flag !! we love to see it

older brother’s best friend!joshua tells you this over text, a few months after that initial boba date

older brother’s best friend!joshua also tells you that you don’t have to do anything about it, but he didn’t want you to think that he’d been leading you on or anything if his feelings continued

which would be great, except for the fact that he kinda had been (unknowingly) toying with your feelings these past few months

but it’s okay, because you tell older brother’s best friend!joshua to meet you at the same boba shop that you’d gone to, three months prior

and that’s where you’re meeting, a year later, because he’s thinking of going back to los angeles for uni

and you’re definitely not crashing out

but older brother’s best friend boyfriend!joshua tells you that he’s willing to do long distance, but if you can’t hold up? he’s okay to cut it off, too. for you.

boyfriend!joshua says that you don’t have to decide now. he’s not leaving for a few more months, and he’s there for you, no matter what you decide

he leaves you to your thoughts and your fruit tea

or so you think, because best friend’s older brother!jeonghan sits down in front of you, asking if the seat is taken

—

“no, my boyfriend just left.”

jeonghan hums.

“joshua, right? he’s good for you.”

you raise an eyebrow at that, and frown. after a few moments of pent up frustration, you ask the question that’s been on your mind for the past year.

“why?”

“why what?”

“yoon jeonghan.”

he sighs.

“i wanted you to find someone better than me. looks like you found him.”

you purse your lips, and exasperated fondness begins to creep into your eyes.

“and how do you know that? how do you know if joshua is good for me or not?”

what if i still miss you?

“he is.”

he says this with that stupid knowing air of his, and you can’t decide if you love him or hate him for it.

“jeonghan, you don’t get to decide that for me.”

“besides, he’s leaving me.”

“what.”

jeonghans gaze whips from the window to you.

“he’s going back to la. for college. and i don’t know if he knows when he’s coming back.”

jeonghan’s eyes look at you with a mix of pity and regret, something that you can’t take, not after the whirlwind of a conversation that you had with joshua. tears begin to pool in your eyes, and when jeonghan pushes a napkin over, you can’t help but grip his hand instead.

“yah-”

“don’t say anything. just…give me this.”

and he relents, because he’d do anything for you. even go as far as breaking your heart, only to come back to check up on you.

he lets you cry, because he felt the same way about you. longing for someone he already has but is on the verge of losing.

you reach out to take the napkin and wipe your tears, only to notice familiar scrawl on it.

that napkin has jeonghan’s new phone number on it.

—

now the question is, who do you choose?

—

a/n: TUMBLR STOP CORRECTING JEONGHAN TO JOE GHANA AND SEUNGCHEOL TO SEEING HELL THIS IS NOT VERY CUTESY OF YOU !!

taglist: @sousydive @dreamingofpcy @junplusone — wanna join my taglist?

[borderlandbabe]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐁 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐆𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐗-𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑

Arisu Ryohei

Arisu blinks at you, completely caught off guard. He leans back slightly, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Wait, what? You… you were a famous singer?"

You nod, a little amused at his reaction. Arisu rubs the back of his neck, clearly trying to process the information. He always thought he knew everything about you, but this? This was something else.

"I mean… that’s crazy. Why didn’t you tell me?"

He’s not mad, just genuinely surprised. A few minutes later, you catch him on his phone, looking up old performances. His eyes widen as he watches you on stage, your voice filling the room.

"Damn… You were incredible,"he murmurs, barely realizing he said it out loud. When you tease him about it, he quickly averts his gaze and mutters, "Shut up… It’s just weird seeing you like this."

But deep down, he's impressed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Karube Daikichi

Karube whistles, his lips curling into a grin as he crosses his arms.

"So my girl was a superstar, huh? Should’ve figured. You got that whole… untouchable, goddess thing going on."

You roll your eyes, but he only smirks wider. Within minutes, he’s already digging through the internet, playing one of your old music videos on full blast.

"Damn, listen to that voice. That’s sexy as hell,"he says, looking you up and down like he’s seeing you in a new light.

He’s completely into it.From that moment on, he brags about it constantly. If someone so much as hums one of your old songs, he’s the first to go,

"Yeah, my girl used to own the damn stage. No big deal."

And he definitely starts asking for private concerts.

"Come on, babe. Just one song. For me?"

He’s relentless.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Chota Segawa

Chota’s mouth literally drops open, and his eyes turn into giant heart eyes,practically sparkling as he stares at you in pure awe.

"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT. Are you SERIOUS?! My girlfriend was a famous singer?! That’s so COOL!!"

He’s literally bouncing on his feet, flailing his arms like an excited puppy. When you show him proof, he lets out a high-pitched squeal and nearly drops his phone.

"I-I’m dating a superstar! Oh my god—do you know how insane that is?! Do you realize how many people would KILL to be me right now?!"

He spends the next hour watching every video of you performing, absolutely starstruck. If you ever sing in front of him, even casually, he turns into a blushing, stammering mess.

"O-okay, you’re way too powerful. This isn’t fair."

And if he ever sees you in a glamorous outfit like the ones you used to wear on stage? He straight-up faints.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Tatta Kōdai

Tatta’s reaction is pure admiration. His eyes widen, and he leans forward.

"Wow… That’s amazing. You must’ve worked so hard to get there."

He’s not the type to fangirl, but you can see how much he respects you. He asks all the right questions—what it was like, if you miss it, if you were happy doing it.

"Did it make you feel free? Or was it more stressful?"

If there were bad memories tied to it, he immediately reassures you.

"Well, you don’t have to be that person anymore if you don’t want to. But… I’d love to hear you sing sometime."

And when you do? He smiles so warmly, so sincerely, it makes your heart ache.

"Your voice is beautiful."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Kuzuryu Keiichi

Kuzuryu takes a long sip of his tea, staring at you over the rim of his cup.

"I see."

That’s it. That’s his entire reaction.

But later, you catch him with his earbuds in, watching one of your old performances. His expression is unreadable, but you notice the way his fingers subtly tap against his leg—keeping time with the music.

"You had a strong stage presence," he finally says. "Commanding. I assume you were respected."

He doesn’t ask many questions, but if there’s any pain tied to your past, he will acknowledge it in his own way.

"If it was a burden… you don’t have to carry it alone."

And that means more than anything.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Oki Yaba

Yaba snorts.

"Tch. Yeah right. You? A famous singer? Prove it."

So you do. And his smirk drops.

"Oh… Shit."

He immediately gets quiet, eyes locked on the screen. He won’t admit it, but he’s kind of in awe. When the video ends, he clicks his tongue.

"Hmph. Guess I underestimated you."

From then on, he never directly compliments you, but if someone else talks about your career, he’ll be the first to go,

"Damn right she was the best. You should’ve seen the way she owned the stage."

But if you catch him listening to your songs in private? He will deny it to his grave.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Banda Sunato

Banda tilts his head, an unsettling smirk forming on his lips.

"Well, well. My little songbird had a past life, did she?"

He’s way too interested. Not just in the music—but the fame,the pressure, the inevitable fall from the spotlight.

"Tell me… did you love the stage, or did the stage love you?"

You can tell he’s already digging up information, analyzing every part of your past like a puzzle. But instead of mocking you, he finds it intriguing.

"You were once adored by millions… and now you belong to me. Interesting."

He’ll never let you forget it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Chishiya Shuntaro

Chishiya raises an eyebrow.

"Huh. Didn’t expect that."

That’s all he says. But later, when you’re not looking, you definitely catch him watching your performances. His face is unreadable, but when you confront him, he just sips his drink and says,

"It’s not bad."

If you ever sing around him, he’ll act unimpressed—but the way he subtly turns to listen gives him away. And when he does compliment you? It’s low and casual.

"I see why they loved you."

But coming from him, that means everything.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Kyuma Ginji

Kyuma loves it. His grin stretches wide as he pulls you into his arms.

"So my goddess was once a star? Damn, that makes you even sexier."

He begs you to sing for him, probably playing his guitar while you do. Every performance turns into an intimate, soulful moment.

"The world may have had you once… but now, you belong to me."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Aguni Morizono

Aguni pauses.

"I see."

He doesn’t say much, but later, you find him listening to your old songs alone. If you bring it up, he simply shrugs.

"You were good."

But if anyone dares bring up your past in a negative way, he will shut it down instantly.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Niragi Suguru

Niragi bursts out laughing.

"No way. My girl? A pop star? That’s hilarious."

But when he actually looks into it, his laughter stops.

"Tch. So all those guys were obsessed with you, huh? Guess I’ll have to remind them who you belong to now."

He gets insanely possessive. And if you ever sing for him? His cocky smirk disappears as he watches you intently.

"....Sing that again."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Takeru "Hatter" Danma

Hatter’s reaction is instant fascination. His eyes widen, and then his signature smirk appears as he leans forward, resting his chin on his hand.

"A famous singer, huh? Now that is something I did not expect. My lovely, mesmerizing, dangerous songbird… the world must have been at your feet."

He’s thrilled by the idea. To him, it makes perfect sense—you have that rare, magnetic energy that naturally draws people in. He pictures you on stage, bathed in lights, captivating an entire crowd with nothing but your voice.

"It’s a damn shame I wasn’t there to see it."

Then, suddenly, his smirk deepens.

"Or maybe it’s for the best. If I had seen you back then, I wouldn’t have let anyone else have you."

Hatter loves the idea that his girlfriend was adored by millions, but he especially loves that, in the end, you belong to him.He’ll tease you about it constantly, throwing out lines like:

"Sing for me, my queen. Let me see the goddess they all worshipped."

And if you do?He sits back, utterly entranced, eyes dark with admiration. The moment you finish, he grins and murmurs,

"Dangerous. A voice like that could make a man fall to his knees."

Hatter revels in the knowledge that you were once a star. But now, he considers you his greatest treasure.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Samura "Last Boss" Takatora

The second you tell him, Last Boss freezes.His hands tighten around his katana as he stares at you, his one visible eye narrowing slightly.

"...A famous singer?"

His voice is unreadable. You can’t tell if he’s amused, curious, or something darker. But then, a slow, eerie smile stretches across his lips.

"So… you once stood under the spotlight. Letting the world consume you."

Unlike Hatter, he doesn’t romanticize the fame. He fixates on the weight of it—the way the world must have watched your every move, adored you, and maybe even hated you.

"Tell me… did it feel like a cage?"

There’s a strange intensity in his gaze, like he’s trying to see your past through your eyes. He loves that you had power over people, that your voice could command an entire crowd. But there’s something almost… possessive in the way he reacts.

"They must have wanted you. Desperate, obsessed… but they never really knew you, did they?"

If you ever sing for him, even casually, he goes silent.His usual unsettling grin fades, and he watches you intently,his breathing slightly heavier. When you finish, he licks his lips and mutters,

"...That voice. Dangerous."

He adores it. But the knowledge that the world once had access to you? That unsettles him. From now on, he makes it clear—

"Your voice… is for me now."

And if anyone even mentions your past career in a way he doesn’t like? They don’t get to mention it again.

[hannahssimblr]

I turn my collar up against the wind. Building, now. Bracing. Whipping up, tunnelled through the buildings, and the street is alive despite it. I’ll never underestimate an Irish person’s determination to spend a Saturday night drinking. Art school looking girls, small fringes, smoking cigarettes outside the bars, huddled beneath the awnings as the snow comes in a slant. Milk white legs out to the world, feet in thick-soled boots. A Dublin squawk of merriment rises over music that bleeds onto the street and I feel, for one moment, I am seventeen again. When going out was exciting. Groups of boys chatting to groups of girls, taking the piss out of them, to conceal the weight of our desperation beneath humour. Hoping that by asking if that’s her ma’s coat, you can touch her boob over her top while kissing her later on. Sincere was the worst thing you could be. Everything was a joke. 

The joke now is my life, actually. Contemplating this reality while trailing behind the others. I look down at my trembling hands. It’s ridiculous to be nervous about a bar in Dublin after stumbling into full-blown sex in a Berlin darkroom while looking for the beer garden. I’m meant to be made of hardier stuff now, and I’m scared of a party. A girl’s nineteenth birthday party. My nervous system believes she is going to attack me with her teeth when I enter the room, instead of just being like, oh, hey. I remember you, yeah. Why’d you come, again? What’d be worse, really? Her indifference, or her teeth in my throat? The answer is genuinely unclear. 

“Jude?” Jen is waiting up ahead. I’ve trailed too far behind, and she’s looking concerned. “Jude, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

Claire and Shane can’t hear as they idle around the door of the bar. I hadn’t realised we’d arrived. “We don’t have to go in. Literally,” says Jen. “The three of us can go say hello and I’ll come back out. We can go home, then.”

I make an indignant sound. “What? I never said I’m not going in.”

“What’s with the face? You’ve had that face on you since the restaurant.”

“It’s just how I look.”

She huffs, unimpressed, and stomps towards me. “Look,” she says. “No one is forcing you to be here. If you want to go home, just go.”

I keep my back straight, don’t stoop to her. Act like she’s overreacting. “I’m obviously going to go in.”

“You piss me off when you’re like this.”

“Don’t know what you mean.”

“Go on,” stands aside for me. “Go in then.” And I hesitate. “Well, I want a cigarette first.”

“Do you have one on you?”

“No.”

“Well, me neither.”

“Okay, I’ll bum one off someone else.”

Sighing. “Yeah, fine then. I’m going to head inside with the guys, so you just come whenever.”

“Right.” She goes then, catches up with the others, all looking around at me before pushing through the doors into the bar. I take a breath. Roll my shoulders. The tension is ridiculous. This prolonging of the inevitable. Approach a girl opening a pack, ask her if I can bum one. She tells me to fuck off, and I have to laugh at that. “Jesus, fair enough,” I say. “Fuck me, so. Power to you.” 

I hesitate by the door, flex my hand around the handle. Sounds muffled within. Voices. Any voice could be hers. Stalling there, trying to pick it out, as if I’ll just know. As if I can properly remember the way she sounds. But I do. Gentle. You’d never be able to hear her in a crowd, her voice seeming to hit the same decibel as the general hum of a room. You’d have to lean in closer, and she’d hate that, needing to raise her voice, but I liked her rural accent in my ear. I remember imitating it, stretching out the vowels, dragging the words into something ridiculous. I thought it was funny. Thought she did, too, even when she told me off. Thought maybe she’d kiss me for it. That was the rule, right? If you wanted something, you made a joke out of it first. Because sincere was the worst thing you could be. And everything was a joke.

I’m getting cold now, just standing here, and there aren’t any more excuses. She could be right there, on the other side of the frosted glass, like breath on a cold window. Finally, pressing into the handle, pushing my weight against the door, stepping inside. 

The heat of the place clings to me in an instant. The damp, thick air of a bar that’s been hopping for hours already. A wall of noise. Music muffled beneath layering voices, the place crowded to the point of discomfort with arty looking types, indistinguishable, nearly, from the ones out on the street. My skin prickles beneath my coat. Heavy now. Too much. Someone bumps my shoulder on their way out, and the door swings behind me. 

My eyes scan without meaning to. A radar for her. Flashes of movement. A hundred brown-haired girls, and yet. 

There. 

Not immediately. Not like some movie where the crowd parts and angels sing to reveal her standing under some holy light, just the movement of an arm, concealed halfway behind somebody else. Tucking hair behind an ear. She’s talking to Shane, his shoulder hiding her face, but I know her hands and how she uses them to express herself. I move closer. 

“Happy birthday, lovely!” That’s Jen to her now, giving her a hug. See the side of her head from where I am, face covered by a swoosh of her hair. Shorter. Straight, just brushing her shoulders in a way that makes her neck look long. “... and so great to see you again.” Jen’s being overly polite. Thinks Evie hates her, still. 

“You too, oh my God, of course. You’re so welcome here, really.”

They let each other go. She knows I’m here. I feel the charge. Stands back, crosses her arms, uncrosses them, and again. Her body faces me. I go to greet her, but her head twists away, finding something else to look at. Wanting so much not to look at me. Hatred or indifference, I don’t know. Which is more gruesome? Considering again the teeth in my throat. I’d take that instead, yes, let her rip out my jugular. A splatter of blood across the glass counter. “Evie.”

Pretends then she has only just noticed me. She speaks coolly. “Hello.”

I catch myself smiling. Thin. False. For the benefit of others. She is taller than I remember her being. Thinner, ethereal and, yes, angular. One collarbone is exposed in an asymmetrical dress, white and prominent in the light. 

“Happy birthday,” I say to her. “It’s really good to see you again.”

“Oh my God,” she says. “Sorry, but your accent.” She’s trying to make fun of me, maybe, though her face reveals genuine surprise, dropping her curated coldness in that moment to gawk into my face, like meeting my alien doppelgänger. I like that. Her mocking my voice. Feel my strained smile becoming real. “Sorry, Jude, sorry. You just sound so different.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, like an American.” She leans back to take me in, holding herself with this renewed sense of ease I don’t remember her having. Eyebrow raised with amusement, but I’m not sure her expression is warm. Others are watching our interaction around the bar. Her friends. For the first time, I’m in her world, when I’ve only ever known her in mine. The scale tips. The power shifts. 

“Well, actually, I am an American.” 

She laughs. “Yes, but you never sounded like this before.”

I hadn’t realized I sounded different at all. I open my mouth to say something, but she just nods, satisfied. Like she’s figured something out about me I haven’t yet. I feel it, the moment she comes to her own quiet conclusion about who I am now, before I have had the chance to show her. 

“Well, it’s been too long,” I say. Funny, the enormous weight in those four short words. I hold my arms out for a hug. She hesitates a beat, drawing back, not sure she should, but there’s relief when she accepts. She steps into me. Her smell—immediate and familiar. My body remembers before. “How have you been?” I look at her face, stupidly tempted to touch her cheek.

“Oh, I’ve been fine.”

“Yeah? And college? You’re in NCAD, right?”

“Ah, yeah, I am. I’m–”

“Evie! Come over here quick, you silly bitch. We found your cake!” Someone is bellowing it, stomping across the bar with a lit birthday cake, enormous sparkler spluttering in the middle of it. 

Who the fuck is that? I want to say to Evie, but she’s already going. Slipping away towards her friend, feigning surprise. Totally did not expect the cake, you guys, wow, thank you, this is gorgeous. 

Happy birthday, they’re all singing now. The weird, raucous droning sound of about thirty art students making no effort, too cool to bear the sincerity of holding a consistent tune. The DJ hasn’t bothered to turn the music off, either. Calvin Harris throbs in the background of their caterwauling, then clapping as Evie blows out the candles. I try to meet her eye through the ribbons of smoke, but she doesn’t look at me. Instead, she hugs them—all these people I don’t know, and probably never will. Wondering to myself what she wished for, knowing, too, that she’ll never tell me.

Beginning // Prev // Next

Corresponding LG Chapter

[caotictimmy]

Since Cass is hesitant to talk to reader first what would she do if reader talked to her first? Honestly I could see them both liking ballet since madoka had that one promo art where she did ballet. Also do any of the fam notice readers little notes or do they just ignore those too?

1.AHHH thinking about it I think they would have a really good dynamic if they did talk to each other. Cassandra would easily be a bit shocked that you’ve come up to her. I imagine that she would be studying a video of ballet in the living room or sm,trying to study the movements so she could try and replicate it herself, but they definitely would get along really well. Though you guys know I don’t like seeing you to happy! So just like Duke she’ll try her best to be there for reader, but will be too busy lolz. Before we get into this I wanna let you guys know I have almost no knowledge about ballet so this is prob not gonna be the best. Low-key just pulling stuff out of my ass for this one🙏

2. Well they all have different interactions with if. People like Alfred, Duke, Stephanie, and Cassandra see them and really appreciate them. Duke has a little scrape book you made him and he’ll keep the personal sticky notes you make him in there (Can you guys tell I might favor Duke). Bruce, Jason and Damien ignore them. All for different reasons but still the same outcome. Last but not least, Tim and dick just don’t even see them. It comical. There could be many all along the walls and they wouldn’t even notice. Still MM!reader continues writing these positive messages with the cute doodles to accompany them.

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed as she kept replaying this one specific part of the video. She often would watch ballet videos to study the dances for herself. As she was focused on the video she suddenly heard someone’s voice.

“Hey could I join you? I love ballet” You asked, swaging as you nervously wait for her response. She looked back to see you standing behind the couch. “Yeah” She quietly mutters. It was clear she was surprised to see you talking to her. She scotched a bit over, gently patting the seat next to her.

She couldn’t help smile herself as she sees you grin brightly. You quickly scramble over the couch. She laughs as she watches you stumble trying to get over her back of the couch. You quickly sit up. You’re not trying to make yourself look like a bigger foul. You two sir in silence for a bit. Simply watching the memorizing movements of the beautiful dancers.

You then spoke up, “Hey I think this is the same choreography my ballet group did our last contest.” You fondly mumble. Your eyes still glued to the screen. “Wait you do ballet? Why haven’t you told us?” She asked a bit baffled. Cassandra kept her gaze on you, clearly waiting for a response. “Well I mean.. I do but no one really attends.” You say gazing everywhere except for her. “W-which is ok I get you guys are busy! And Duke always tries to come when he can so I’m not always there by myself.” You quietly gasped out, trying to keep the mood cheerful.

“Hey when is your next contest?” Cassandra asked, feeling horrible for not even knowing you did ballet, “My next contest is in two weeks.” You mumbled. Playing with your hands to distract yourself from the awkward situation. “I promise you I’ll come to the next contest.” She smiled. “Really!! I mean oh yeah thank you.” You tried to sound nonchalet at the end, but it was clear that you were excited. “Yeah” she softly said.

Authors note: I’m genuinely really surprised seeing ppl so interested in my series. You guys don’t know how happy it makes me seeing other people love my concept. Reminder that my request are always open and I would love to talk more about MM! Reader:3

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 17

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

TW: Sexual Harassment (Mild), Blood and Injury

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 17

You ducked through the swinging doors that led into the kitchen. Evan, the new hire, looked up from where he laid bits of toast on serving platters. He wore the button up and slacks, but you knew better than to shove the kid on the floor his first day—even if that meant extra work for you in the long run.

“How’re you holding up, kiddo?” you asked for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, “If this is getting annoying, just tell me and I’ll back off.”

He looked barely old enough to drive, let alone man a kitchen solo, but your boss needed bodies, even when that body had a beard that consisted of three stubborn hairs on his chin. He should be in school, but you had a sneaking suspicion school wasn’t his top priority.

Evan reminded you of yourself when you started, a little wide-eyed and overwhelmed, so you decided to keep an eye on him, especially given the client that evening.

He forced a smile, revealing a missing incisor. He seemed eager which was a noticeable improvement compared to the Blood Knuckles a few months back. “No, you’re fine. It’s just—it’s a lot. Do we usually work parties for...” Evan scanned the kitchen despite being the only two there and lowered his voice to finish, “For the mob?”

“We work for whoever pays us,” you said as you swiped one of the finished platters of toasted bread smothered with brie and prosciutto, “It just so happens that the people with the means to pay us also serve the seedy underbelly of Gotham. Believe it or not, they’re usually the best clients to work for if you keep your head down and your ears open.”

Evan gave you an incredulous look. “Are you serious? I counted four guns alone just going to the bathroom.”

“Head down, ears open,” you reiterated, “While it seems unlikely to happen tonight, at the first sign of trouble, drop everything and get the hell out of dodge.”

Crazy things happened often enough that your company had a written clause that allowed servers to drop whatever they were working on and run when things got dicey. No job was worth a blast of fear toxin or a stray bullet or whatever flavor of torture the villain of the month had cooked up.

“Make sure you know where your exits are.”

He nodded, looking more like the child he was. You softened with his uncertainty and set your platter down once more. “Are you sure you’re hanging in there?”

“I’m alright, just—thanks for watching out for me. I know I’m a little clumsy and I dropped a platter of canapes earlier after burning the first batch of toast, but I need this job. Could you, maybe, not tell the boss that I—”

“I don’t snitch. Nothing will happen to you if I have anything to say about it. If it makes you feel better about being the newbie, I dropped a tray of champagne on Vicki Vale during my first party. It ruined her dress and her fancy recorder. She threatened to sue.”

“No way.”

“Yep,” you said with a snort, “Don’t sweat it. You’re doing fine.”

From the way Evan bloomed like a flower in the sun, your words had the desired effect. You never expected becoming senior server would turn you into a doting mother hen, but it seemed inevitable.

His smile looked a little more genuine as he said, “I appreciate that.”

“Anytime, kiddo.” You winked as you shouldered the platter once more. “If you run into any trouble, you know where to find me.”

With that, you ducked through the doors and headed toward the drawing room. Much like you collected trinkets and random bobs, Aldo Riviera was a collector in his own right. Granted, his collection was cooler than the random things you picked up at thrift stores. Paintings mounted in gold frames lined the walls, giving the impression of an art gallery instead of a family home. He’d collected more since last year.

This wasn’t your first time serving at one of his parties. The New Year’s Eve party was a staple among his circle, and you worked it every year. That meant you were intimately familiar with the Riviera family and the people they associated with.

That’s how you knew to avoid his eldest son—Luca.

His personality was flimsy like wet paper. The kind that stained your table when you finally got around to cleaning it up, so any time you saw the stain after the fact, you wrinkled your nose and wished you’d handled it sooner. He also had sticky hand that liked to pinch your ass when you passed. You ignored it in years past, but if he tried something tonight, you couldn’t guarantee he’d still have a hand.

Steph and Cass wouldn’t put up with being touched without their consent, so why should you?

He arrived late, like he usually did, stumbling with his arm slung around his date who hid her boredom with a vacant smile. You wondered how much he was paying her to dote on him.

Not nearly enough, you decided.

He claimed the sitting room near the fire, and you’d avoided him like the plague, but you’d have to face him eventually.

Just... not yet.

After another pass of the drawing room, you could move onto the sitting room. You held your tray aloft with your head held high and a well-rehearsed smile. As you exited the drawing room, you noticed someone tucked between two large curio cabinets who hadn’t been there before.

Not just anyone.

Someone you hadn’t seen in a while.

Jacob wore his hair pushed away from his face to make the white streak less noticeable, though a few stubborn curls had started to fall from his over-gelled hairstyle (and really he hadn't done that good of a job at hiding the streak anyway). His glasses balanced on the tip of his nose as he stared blankly at the wall, clearly overwhelmed from the slightly manic look in his eye. You slowed your stride and backtracked, just to make sure you weren’t seeing things.

He didn’t appear to notice, but it was undoubtedly him.

Well, your night just got infinitely more interesting.

You angled the platter toward him and asked, “Did you want one?”

He jerked around, nearly knocking the cabinet on his right as he turned to face you. His glasses failed to hide the horror etched onto his face.

You bit back a smirk. “Well, if it isn’t the elusive Mr. Darcy.”

His jaw worked as he slid out from his little alcove, trying to put as much distance between you and him despite the crammed hall. The only word that managed to eke out was a barely audible, “You.”

He ran.

Well, ran wasn’t the right word. It was more of a brisk walk that he tried to play off as completely normal.

You sighed.

Why did all the men in your life run away from you?

Setting your platter aside, you followed because he couldn’t have a reaction like that and vanish again for however long it would take fate to shove you together again.

At the very least, you wanted to figure out where he was running off to. He seemed to know the layout of the home, but not the various displays and tables that made traversing the hallway difficult. He slowed down considerably to avoid knocking anything off the shelves, making it quite easy to catch up with him.

“Gotcha.”

Your fingers closed around his bicep, effectively stopping him in his tracks. His muscles tensed up, pulling the fabric taut over the bulge of his bicep. You might as well have been gripping solid stone. Your throat dried considerably.

He kept his back to you. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

What a wild thing to say to someone he hasn’t seen in weeks.

“I beg your finest pardon?”

He groaned. “No. Wait. That’s not what I meant. It’s not like I’m not thrilled to see you, but—”

“Jacob, I thought you were grabbing a drink? Where’s my drink?”

You craned your neck to look over his shoulder, but Jacob reacted quickly. He whipped around, pressing you flat between two cabinets, and effectively trapping you. Their contents rattled with the ragged gasp that jostled in your chest.

“What the hell are you—”

He pressed a finger to your lips with this frantic twinkle in his eye. “Just stay quiet until he leaves, I beg of you.”

With that, he turned around just as Luca pulled up, visible through the glass sides of the cabinet. “You would not believe the line at the bar. I was just ‘bout to go back and try again.”

Luca pursed his lips, unimpressed. “Whatever. I’ll get it myself after I...” He trailed off as his gaze drifted over the display and settled on you. If you could see him, he could definitely see you. A saccharine smile curled his lip, downright diabolical through that warped glass.

“You dog. Are ya havin’ fun without me?”

“No, I just ran—”

He shoved Jacob aside. An impressive feat considering Jacob was nearly a head taller.

You pressed yourself flatter against the wall as he leaned in to get a better look. Luca and Jacob knew each other. Of course, they did. Disappointment curled in your chest. You hoped Jacob was better than the scum that fed off the underbelly of Gotham, but that was on you for assuming the best in someone. At the end of the day, you knew nothing about him, and this situation proved that.

Luca reeked of gin and cigarettes as his nose nearly grazed yours. You hoped you looked more irritated than intimidated, but between Jacob and him, the odds of getting out this left your insides a little gooey. Steph said you could easily take someone twice your size, but two?

Let’s be realistic here.

“She’s cute. I can see why ya picked her. If ya want, I could find ya someplace private to have your fun if you’re too shy to fuck her in one of the bathrooms.” His finger curled under your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your fist clenched. “Hell, we could even tag—”

You punched up.

A sickening crack followed, though whether it was your hand, or his jaw was anyone’s guess. Luca crumpled, held aloft in Jacob’s closed fist where he gripped him by the collar. You watched him suspiciously, shaking out your hand. It prickled faintly, indicating that you should feel something, but you were too high on adrenaline to feel much beyond the rush.

He stared back, stunned and blocking your escape.

Before he could recover, you shoved the nearest display toward him. It teetered precariously.

“Wait. It's not—”

With a grunt, you shoved again, cracking the glass. The door swung open as it fell onto Jacob, shattering delicate plates and blown-glass figurines at his feet. It wasn't large enough to take him out, but it gave you the opportunity to make your escape. Splintered glass dug into your palm as you hopped over the curio cabinet and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Your mind raced.

You just punched Luca Riviera.

Then you just shoved a cabinet of antiques on one of his goons. Antiques that probably cost more money than you’d ever see in your pitifully short lifetime. Aldo Riviera knew your name. He knew where you worked. It was only a matter of time before he sent someone after you.

You’d have to quit your job,

You’d have to leave Gotham.

And quit school.

And… and…

Fuck, you’d be lucky if you made it that far. Once they found the mess and an unconscious Luca, they’d hunt you down. You should have knocked Jacob out too.

You shoved through the door, startling Evan who sat in front of a new platter of canapes. His gaze lowered, his expression falling. “Your hand…”

You looked down, noticing the blood that dripped from the cuts on your palm and the split knuckles. You grimaced.

And now they could trace it back to you.

“I have to get this looked at,” you lied as you wrapped a clean rag around your hand, “You should go before—”

A shot rang from the hall.

You swore under your breath.

“Before that. Grab your stuff and go. Don’t bother cleaning up.” It killed you to abandon him like this. It was his first day. And his first shoot out on the job, no less. Rosa had taken you out for drinks the first time something fucked up happened on the job, but it was more dangerous for you to stay and run the risk of getting caught with him.

“Let me go with you. I can—”

“No, get yourself somewhere safe. If anyone asks, it’s your first day, you don’t know me, and you didn’t see me leave.” You squeezed him lightly on the shoulder before you took your coat and bag.

You left through the back door where it emptied onto a private alley with barely enough room to move. Crawling over trash cans, you stumbled out onto the street and tried to look inconspicuous. Or as inconspicuous as one could look while bleeding through a dish rag.

As your wave of adrenaline waned, the pain in your hand got harder to ignore. Bits of glass jostled in the cuts, a deep burn creeping up your arm. You paused under the light of the streetlamp. With some distance between you and the estate, you peeled back the rag to assess the damage. Blood coated your palm, making it difficult to discern how deep the cuts went. You held your breath as you pulled a few of the larger chunks from your hand, tossing them into the grass.

“I expected you to be halfway home by now.”

Your fingers curled instinctively into another fist as you turned around to face Jacob. His glasses sat crooked on his nose, a little harried, but otherwise unharmed. The display case hurt you more than it hurt him. That irked you more than you cared to admit.

“Are you following me?”

“I saw the trail of blood,” he said, “It wasn’t that hard.”

Your palm stung, but you refused to stand down now that you were alone. “You’ve come to make good on Luca’s promise for fun?”

He held up his hands and stepped away. “No! I wanted to check on you. There’s glass in your—”

“Spare me your concern. I saw the way you stepped aside for your buddy. You let him touch me.” Jacob flinched as if you had struck him. It was almost as satisfying as landing a punch on Luca. You should have punched the bastard sooner. You doubted you’d get lucky twice if you tried to land a hit on Jacob, though from his slightly hunched posture, he didn't appear all that threatening.

“So, let’s try this again. Why are you here?”

“Well, first off, Luca is not my buddy.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“I am sorry about what happened,” he insisted, “I shouldn’t have let him—I didn’t know he would—But then he touched you like he touches every other girl, and I saw red. You reacted faster than I—” He combed his fingers through his hair, mussing the curls until they fell from their sleek coiffure. “I wasn’t at the party because I like Luca. I was there because his family knows where Roman Sionis is. He was this close to telling me too.”

You stared at him. “What do you want with Roman Sionis?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “He’s a thorn in my side and it’s beginning to effect business.”

It suddenly felt a lot colder. “Were you undercover?”

“Yes.”

Your surprise quickly turned to skepticism as you gave him a quick once over. “Looking exactly like yourself and using your real name?”

His teeth clenched. That seemed to have struck a nerve. “I never said I was—ya know what, yeah, that’s fair. I’m not great at this kind of work, but I didn’t think I’d run into someone who knew me outside of—” He knotted his fingers in his hair and tugged. “I knew I shoulda bought a wig or dyed the skunk strip.”

His accent harshened to a more pronounced Jersey that struck you as painfully familiar now that he wasn’t stumbling over his words. It was a voice you’d heard before. You basked in its twang as he reread passages with your backs pressed together and no modulator to soften it.

The final piece finally clicked into place and left you in freefall.

Your hand fell back to your side. “Hood?”

His eyes went wide. “Wha—no. Why would you…”

“You were undercover,” you reiterated slowly as the picture became clearer, “You wanted to learn the whereabouts of Roman Sionis, or Black Mask as he’s better known in our part of the city. A known archnemesis of Red Hood.”

“I would hardly call him an archnemesis. He’s more a victim of bullying if I'm being honest.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

He quickly backpedaled. “Maybe I work for Red Hood. Ever think ‘bout that, huh? He has plenty of goons. I could be one of them. I mean, look at me.” You might have believed that five minutes ago, but the desperation in his voice betrayed him. He scanned the street, chest heaving. You knew the signs of a man about to run, and you were having none of that.

“Stay,” you snapped.

He stiffened; mouth set in a hard line that tightened the muscles in his neck. When you were sure he wouldn’t bolt, you continued, “Jacob likes classic literature, so does Hood. You both have strong opinions too. Hood gave me two books by his favorite authors, Austen and Dumas. Maybe you’ve heard of them?”

“Those are two very popular authors of very popular books. Who wouldn’t suggest you read them?”

He wasn’t helping his case.

Jacob seemed to realize it too and hid his hands behind his back, but not before you noticed the way he flexed his fingers. A notably Red Hood trait that looked natural on him.

Your eyes narrowed.

The evidence was there, plain as day, but there was one way to know for sure. With your good hand, you pulled your phone from your pocket. His pleading look went ignored as you scrolled through your contacts. You hit the call button and raised it to your ear.

He threw a hand up and sputtered, “W-Wait.”

His phone started ringing.

You licked your teeth. “Answer it.”

“Is that really—”

“I said answer it.”

Slowly, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and did exactly that. The call connected a second later.

“Are you happy now?”

His voice fed into your ear, creating an eerie overlap that raised the hair on your arms. The cold from before left you numb.

Jacob was Red Hood.

And you were… an idiot.

You hung up the phone and stepped toward him. He stepped away, maintaining that ever-present distance. It felt more cavernous now than it had before. Here. Now. You stood on the precipice of something, but it fell to you to bridge the gap. It wasn’t your identity that hung in the balance with your revelation. The only thing you had to lose stood right in front of you.

“Please.”

You weren’t entirely sure what you wanted from him, but you held out your arms anyway, hoping he might understand what you needed and give it to you.

Trepidation made him stall as he peered between your open arms and the clear escape that lay behind him. If he ran, that would be the end of it. The end for Jacob, for Red Hood, for any possibility that something could flourish between you and him. He seemed to come to the same realization and stepped toward you. It didn’t bridge the gap, but you took it as permission to do it instead.

You grasped his face firmly between your hands, ignoring the sting in your palm as your thumb traced the more prominent scars on his cheeks. It was your first time getting a good look at him, here under the light of the streetlamp.

One stretched across the bridge of his nose, narrowly missing the corner of his eye. Another started at his mouth and curved roughly into the shape of J. His breathing stuttered when the pad of your thumb brushed the corner of his mouth.

His shoulders curved as he tried to retreat into himself, but you held fast. Not this time. You finally had the full picture of Red Hood, here pressed between your palms, and you intended to study it thoroughly. You leaned in, committing every nick and mole to memory.

How did you miss the scars?

“This whole time?”

His glasses sat crooked on his nose. Behind them, steely blue eyes—he had blue eyes—shone like gun metal as they darted across your face with the same quiet intensity. His hand twitched up to settle on your hip, fingers curling in the excess fabric of your shirt as he drew you in.

You pressed your forehead to his, nearly bridging the gap in a very different sense, but you maintained a shred of self-control despite every instinct telling you to just go for it. His glasses fogged as your breath mingled with his. It was so hot that it threatened to sear your skin.

He whispered your name, caught somewhere between a question and a reverent prayer.

Your hands moved from his face to wrap around his neck, leaving a smear of blood in its wake as you sat trapped somewhere between this moment and what to do next. You would regret it if you gave into this desire that pulled taut like strings on marionette. His other hand joined the first, eclipsing you as he seemed to wrangle with a similar quandary.

If you did this…

If you allowed yourself to…

You shoved away from him.

He choked on a protest, the reluctant drag of his fingers betraying how desperately he craved this—craved you. His absence left you aching. It was unlike anything you felt before, and it took all your willpower to stay put. His hands shook as he hid them behind his back.

“I’m upset,” you said firmly.

He averted his gaze, his glasses still a little hazy. “I figured.”

You tried to ignore how hot you were. “Mostly I’m mad at myself for not making the connection sooner. You’re literally the same person. I mean, ugh, you know what I mean.”

“Are you disappointed?”

His question barely crested a whisper, but it hit you like a brick.

“Why would I be disappointed?”

He shrugged, which wasn’t a real answer, but it was the only one you got from him. The similarities between him and Red Hood were painfully obvious now that you’d made the connection. It really pissed you off that you had gone this long without realizing it.

And now, he thought you were disappointed.

He was an idiot too.

You reached into your bag, knowing you’d regret what came next, but in your defense, he left you with very few options. It was easier to blame him as you pulled the cursed letter out. You didn’t have the heart to toss it, and now you understood why you had kept it.

Fate was a funny thing.

This letter would make you look like a fool, but it might knock some sense into him.

“Here.”

You shoved the letter into his hands and went back to picking bits of glass from your palm, unwilling to watch the way his face changed as he read your drunken ramblings. He deserved to know exactly how you felt about him—both parts of him, you supposed. Knowing Jacob and Hood were one and the same came as a small relief.

You didn’t have to choose.

Or maybe you did?

This was only the tip of the iceberg. The first secret, but certainly not the last he kept close to his chest. The anonymity of Red Hood gave you a rose-tinted perspective, but now that you knew the face behind the mask, that made this real. That made him real.

Red Hood was not good.

Jacob was not good.

Red Hood was not bad.

Jacob was not bad.

Red Hood just was.

Jacob just was.

Jacob was supposed to be a safe option, but now the line had blurred and there was no safe option. Being with him meant existing in a world painted with shades of gray. You had to be okay with that.

Were you okay with that?

“When did you write this?”

You startled, realizing Jacob was now looking at you. It was hard to tell if he was upset or happy, but his eyes looked oddly wet in the light. You hugged your hand to your chest and said, “After we saw each other at the club.”

A beat of silence.

“Oh.”

If not for the blood rushing to your hand, you might have blushed. He turned back to the letter, eyes darting across the page.

“Do you still think I’m disappointed?”

“No.”

“So, maybe, we could move past this old song and dance once and for all. We’ve been there, done that. I’m surprised, yeah, but I also get why you wanted to keep Jacob—”

He winced.

“—and Hood separate. But now that I know the truth. Maybe we can move forward with…” You made a vague gesture. “With whatever you call this thing between us, I guess. It’s New Year’s Eve and my hand hurts like hell, but in a surprising turn of events, I now have the rest of the night off if you wanted to make the most of it.”

He tucked the letter in his pocket. You allowed it. If anyone could find comfort in your ramblings, it was him.

He held out his hand. “Let me see.” You offered your injured hand, and he took a second to assess the cuts on your palm. He whistled softly. “This looks painful?”

“I hardly feel a thing,” you deadpanned.

He had the decency to look a little sheepish as he straightened his glasses. “I don’t think you need stitches, but I’ll have to clean you up to know for sure. I have a safe house a short walk from here. Can I take you there?”

You smiled through the pain. “Not a hospital?”

“I’m not making you pay a hospital fee for something I can do just as well for free.”

Shades of gray, you reminded yourself.

“Alright, lead the way.”

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

A/N: Two chapters in four days? But AthenaGC94, you said you were drowning at work?

Yes. Kinda. Things are getting slightly better, but also this story keeps me going and I actually have the rest of the chapters outlined which helps me immensely (we're looking at 29-30 chapter total. Woo.).

I also wanted to change my upload day to Sunday so instead of making you wait a week, I decided to reward you instead.

Enjoy!

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[binisbun]

that really specific almost sympathetic(?) eye smile plus giggle combo that binnie does after teasing someone is craaaazzzyyy

like that’s precisely the face he makes at u when he’s edged you for the 4th time, and every time you give him a look of betrayal with literal tears in ur eyes he just gets sweeter!! “ahh i know baby i’m sorry it’s okay i got you” with a big smile on his damn face 😭

false sympathy with hanbin goes CRAAAAAZY!

hanbin would continue to edge you even after apologising, his fingers teasing your clit, denying you of what you crave so desperately. “aww, poor angel… want it that badly, huh?” his voice drips with false sympathy as he continues to watch the tears stream down your face. he leans in close, breath against your ear. “i don’t know what you need,” he whispers, acting all innocent, making you frustrated all over again. “why don’t you tell me, baby girl?” his other hand grips your hip to keep in you in place as he toys with your pussy again. “wanna cum! daddy! please!” you cry, getting increasingly frustrated. he smirks as he hears your pleas, loving how easily he’s able to manipulate you. “look at you… begging like such a good girl…” he teases your clit with a wand now, sending jolts of pleasure through you before abruptly stopping.

he leans down to kiss you roughly, his tongue invading your mouth as he grinds himself against your ass. “you wanna cum so bad, don’t you, pretty girl?” he asks, feigning a pout. “not yet, not until i say so.” he breaks the kiss and starts moving the wand again, this time applying more pressure and speed to your sensitive clit. “that’s it, take it. daddy’s gonna make you cum, promise.” his free hand reaches to play with your nipples, pinching them between his fingers. you think he’s genuine this time but he quickly pulls the wand away right when he senses you’re close. “awww, you’re shaking and trembling, pretty girl. almost let you cum, hm?” he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you close to offer you comfort despite the ache between your legs. “it’s okay, princess, i’ll actually let you cum now.” he grins wickedly before putting the vibe on the max setting, your body arching and convulsing under his control. “that’s it, let go… i know you’ve wanted this,” he coos, fingers digging into your hips to hold you steady through your intense orgasm which came so quickly after being edged for so long.

once it subsides, he slowly lowers the setting, letting you catch your breath. “look at you,” he chuckles softly at your expression, “so flushed and fucked out, all for me… you did so well. i knew you could take it, princess. relax for me now, yeah?” he presses a gentle kiss to your neck as he holds you close, helping you calm down <3

[sacredhyacinth]

Sorry if this has been asked before or if it’s bordering on spoiler territory, but I’m a new BM fan so my knowledge on the lore is a bit off

But I’m interested to know if Mira and David have a thing going on

I know David holds a strong attachment towards Mira as a way to cope with the death of his mother because she was one of the only few who stuck by him while everyone moved on with Reina’s death (and we can’t forget about Mira’s guilt about it as well)

Additionally I remember seeing a few artwork/videos of them acting very close and the whole Lady Light and Prince Marc where Davi’s light was slowly seeping in Marc’s name (that’s right I did my homework for this ☝️🤓) which gave such a huge “No matter what timeline we’re in, I’ll always be by your side” aaaahhhh type beat (Gabriel and Loretta are side eyeing at this)

But considering Gael is here and, in my interpretation, there looks to be some feelings reciprocated between him and David (although it looks to be quite angsty as they both seem to be chasing each other in circles and not really saying anything, Raquel and Mina are weeping at this—)

And of course can’t forget about Mira and her past relationship with Harmonia, even though both parties moved on (at least I think? Harmonia definitely has considering she’s living her cottagecore life with Dahlia raising their emotionally unstable kid by the name Loretta while playing Minecraft)

I kinda feel like that embodiment of that one meme of that guy with the tinfoil hat with the chart behind him, trying to connect the red dots as I prove to my imaginary demons on why Mira x David is based but I’m just speaking to air and no one is seeing anything

Like I cannot be the only one that sees David and Mira falling under the “We’re soulmates but unfortunately we met too soon so we’re stuck in this limbo until we finally mature and truly embrace this love to the fullest extent”

Anyways, sorry for the long rant, I had to get this out of my chest because I’m just being plagued by cute images of David and Mira but idk if it’s my delusions speaking or if there is basics to this, so I needed to go to the source directly and finally move on with my life

(that’s a lie, BM has a chokehold on me, thank you for creating this amazing story, keeping cooking)

WELL

both of them are plagued by their own narcissism and high expectations to genuinely have a romantic relationship—like for example David can’t emotionally handle a relationship with Gael cause bro self isolates 24/7 and he’s just growing tired of him being around constantly, like it’s not like he doesn’t love Gael, he just doesn’t like him if that makes any sense whatsoever

but Mira and David are just right person wrong time (yes I know it “doesn’t exist” but I don’t have another term for them)

[bred-49]

He comes home late

Pairing: Dmitry Bale x reader (no specific pronouns used I suppose)

Summary: A casual evening with your loved one

Tags: retired Dmitry, care, fluff, healthy relationships, living in Russia(???)

Word count: 871

Wanted to write some soft domestic shit with this wonderful man for way too long, if only it was me who waited for him. Anyway, hope you’d like this, feel free to leave comments, ask questions, give your opinion and etc.

You haven’t asked much about his work, content with knowing that he’s retired and teaches recruits now, but it still bothered you due to his constant overtimes. When you just started dating, it was rather hard to meet because of a man’s irregular work schedule, but Bale did his best to make sure you got enough attention by flowers delivered to your place as an apology for a failed date and his unexpected departure and simple messages a man like him could come up with to show his care when he’s away.

In addition, he was very pleasant on dates and although at first he was embarrassed by the age difference and did not think that you could be genuinely interested in him, he offered to move in together, when the owner of the apartment you rent decided to sell it.

And now after only six months knowing the man you are in Dima’s flat waiting for him as a perfect wife with cooked dinner and clean house. At around ten in the evening you hear a knock on the door and get from the sofa to open it. When Bale enters the house, he closes the door and, leaving his bag, kisses you lovingly.

“Hi, dear”. He says softly with a little tired smile, taking off his uniform jacket. You stand in the corridor watching him taking off his combat boots and going to wash his hands. Seeing you in the bathroom mirror he speaks up. “I’ll take a shower. Will you stay with me?”.

And you stay. Leaving the TV series running, you enter the bathroom taking a sit on the closed toilet bowl and starting to chatter about your day and news you heard, while the Russian listens mumbling something through the sound of water in return. When he opens the shower curtain you give him a towel and watch him drying himself off.

“Like what you see?” He teases you smirking. And you can’t help but smile and nod.

“I do”. It would be a huge mistake not to look at his strong body and his perfect blue eyes which looks at you admirably. You stand up hugging him, and without any hesitation Dima wraps his hand around you, putting his nose to your temple.

“Thank you”. He mumbles, and you ask him: “For what?”. The man runs his fingers through your hair looking at your face thoughtfully.

“Just… for everything”. Bale answer simply and you chuckle “okay, then I should tell you about your favorite baked duck in the oven”.

He looks at you exited “Really? Oh god I’m starving”. You kiss him still staying in his embrace while you two go to the main room, where you go back to the series and Dima puts on his old shirt and house shorts heading to the kitchen.

After having cooled down diner he returns to you. The man lays beside you on sofa-bed groaning and puts his arm above your one lightly caressing it. You turn to him: “what’s wrong, your spine?” Dima waves it off and wrinkles making expression which means typical masculine “I have a problem but I don’t want to speak about it or do anything”. You look at him strictly and he sighs.

“Yes, it hurts“ he admits. “Was showing some skill and tweaked my back”. You sigh and stand up to get an ointment from the fridge, as you come back Dima already lays on his stomach with his T-shirt pulled up knowing that you won’t leave it. You squeeze a little of cold ointment into the palm of your hand and start rubbing it on Dima's back, starting from the lower back to the middle vertebrae. The man groans a little from the massage, but sighs with relief feeling warmth spreading over the spine reducing the pain.

“Thanks, y/n..” he says with some guilt in his voice, probably again thinking that he’s not the best choice. You lean to kiss his forehead and put his T-shirt back.

“Now, cover yourself to warm up” you tell him walking away to put the ointment back in place. As you return Dima waits for you half sitting-laying under his weighted blanket with a book in his hands, he pats a place beside him, and you go to the bed, leaning to him.

You ask “would you read to me?”

Last week he started one of the books that were standing in his bookshelf covering with dust. Soviet fantasy sounded strangely for you, but after the man mentioned he liked it when he was younger you decided to give it a chance, and now instead of searching through countless reels or looking for a new pair of shoes you obviously wouldn’t buy, you two were reading the book. He rereads, you listen to his voice and a little bit of the story itself. He opens the book on the page you’ve stopped last time, and you get comfortable in bed putting your head on his shoulder giving a little kiss to the little bat tattoo you know he has here under the olive clothing.

“Глава седьмая…“ he starts, and you close your eyes concentrating on listening attentively.

Wow, did you actually read this?? Here, have a medal 🥇

Ps: I’m shocked by the fact Im uploading this ff, but I have another idea with Dima on my mind (it’s smut with m!reader 🙂‍↕️ want to give some attention to the guys)