#i’m never going to be normal ever again

[51voices]

A Step too Far

Kinkvember Day 9: Spanking

NMIXX Jang Kyujin x Male reader

AN: I woke up with a bit of a fever today, so I’m not quite at full power. But I’m still here and determined to keep the daily challenge going! Today's story might be a touch softer than usual and a little lighter on the smut.��

Ugh, what’s taking him so long?

Kyujin lingered in the doorway of the garage, the warmth of the late afternoon sun pouring in around her, casting a golden halo that softened the edges of the worn tools and scattered equipment. Her gaze was steady, focused on you, as you worked intently on your motorcycle. With each turn of a bolt, each slight adjustment, you were lost in the world of mechanics, your concentration so intense that it seemed like she barely existed in your orbit.

You hadn’t noticed her yet. She leaned against the doorframe, an amused smile dancing on her lips as she bit down gently, trying to quell the impatience stirring within her. There was something maddeningly captivating about the way you worked—the steady rhythm of clinks and clanks filling the air, mingled with the occasional soft grunt of effort. These sounds formed a backdrop that only made her want you more, made her want to break your focus and pull you back to her.

Her gaze traveled over you, lingering on the way the muscles in your back flexed beneath the thin layer of your shirt, which was damp with a fine sheen of sweat. You were deeply focused, your shoulders steady as you leaned over the bike, hands skilled and precise as they moved from tool to tool. The heady scent of engine oil, gasoline, and the lingering sweetness of summer mixed in the small, enclosed space, filling her senses. It heightened everything, amplifying the awareness she had of each moment she spent watching you.

She admired your dedication, the way you could immerse yourself completely in whatever you were working on. Normally, that focus of yours was endearing, even impressive. But right now? It was a problem. She wanted your attention—needed it, actually—and the longer she stood there waiting, the more that need intensified.

Finally, she stepped further into the garage, clearing her throat softly as she called out to you, a playful lilt in her voice. “Oppaaaa, you’ve been working all daaaaay! Don’t you want a break? Spend some time with me?”

Her words filled the small space, but you barely responded, your gaze never lifting from the bike. “Almost done, Jagiya,” you murmured absently, your voice calm but distant, as if you’d hardly heard her.

Kyujin’s lips pressed into a thin line as her gaze sharpened. Almost done? You’d been telling her that for hours now, ever since you had set to work, each part needing a new adjustment, each bolt requiring the perfect amount of torque. She shifted her weight, her arms crossing over her chest as a pout began to form. Didn’t you realize she’d been waiting for you this whole time? That she was here, right now, needing you?

Taking a deep breath, she tried again, softening her voice, her tone now dripping with sweetness and affection as she cooed, “Come oooonnn, I need attention, Oppa,” her voice slipping into a soft, playful whine. “You’ve been ignoring me all day… don’t you miss me?”

There was a pause, and she thought maybe—just maybe—her words had reached you this time. But you simply hummed, nodding slightly as you replied, “I do, honey, but I need to finish this. Be patient, okay?” Your hands moved over the bike in smooth, practiced motions, your attention locked entirely on the work before you.

Her heart fell just a bit, frustration mingling with the ache of longing. Patient? She had been more than patient—she’d been watching you in silence, waiting, the entire day. She wanted you, here and now, and your request for more patience felt like a brush-off. A spark of mischief flared within her, and she felt a grin slowly forming on her lips. If you weren’t going to give her your attention willingly, maybe she’d have to take matters into her own hands.

Let’s see how much patience you really have, she thought, her gaze flicking over to the light switch on the wall beside her. You were still completely engrossed in your task, seemingly oblivious to her scheming, to the slight excitement building in her chest.

With one quick flick, she plunged the garage into darkness, watching as the warm glow of the sun instantly vanished, leaving only shadows. A soft, mischievous giggle escaped her lips as she quickly flicked the lights back on, peeking at you to catch your reaction.

Your hands froze mid-action, and your shoulders tensed slightly, but you didn’t turn around. “Honey…” Your voice was low, carrying a gentle warning that felt almost half hearted, as if you were trying to keep the focus despite her interruption.

Kyujin’s pulse quickened at the thrill of pushing you, her amusement growing as she watched you try to maintain composure. She loved testing your boundaries, nudging you until you broke from that perfect focus. And so far? You hadn’t even turned to look at her.

Alright, a wicked grin forming on her lips as she reached for the light switch again. This time, she flicked it off and let the darkness linger a bit longer, relishing the silence and the tension before snapping the lights back on. Her laughter bubbled up, louder this time, spilling into the quiet garage.

A sigh escaped you, deeper and more audible, and she watched the way your hand tightened around the wrench, your posture just a bit stiffer. “Jagiya, I’m serious,” you said, your tone firmer but not without a hint of exasperation. You still hadn’t turned around. “Don’t push me today. I need to finish this so I can get to work on Monday.”

She smirked, biting back another laugh, hearing the tension weaving its way into your voice. You were trying so hard to stay calm, so hard to keep focused on the bike, but she could see the tiny cracks forming. And the thrill of it—the way she could unravel you bit by bit—made her heart beat faster. Her gaze drifted over to your workbench, where your tools lay neatly arranged, each one in its place. An idea sparked within her, her fingers twitching with anticipation.

Her eyes landed on a small wrench at the edge of the workbench, one you’d no doubt reach for soon. Smiling slyly, she slid over to the bench, reaching out with light fingers as she gently picked up the wrench, hiding it behind her back. She moved closer, standing only a foot away from you, her heart pounding as she waited for you to notice.

And then, after a few more focused adjustments, she saw you extend your hand toward the spot where the wrench was supposed to be. Your fingers met only air, and she watched your hand hover there for a moment, realization dawning in your posture as you froze. Slowly, you turned, your eyes narrowing slightly as you finally met her gaze.

Kyujin widened her eyes in mock innocence, her lips parted just enough to suggest she knew absolutely nothing about what had happened to the wrench. The stolen tool was hidden behind her back, her fingers wrapped around it with barely contained excitement.

“Where is it?” you asked, voice calm but with an edge of authority, your eyes scrutinizing her expression.

Her heart raced, her pulse thrumming with the thrill of teasing you. Flashing her best innocent smile, she replied, “Where’s what? What are you talking about?”

You straightened up, wiping your hands on a rag as you leveled her with a steady look. “Baby,” you said, your voice lower now, laced with a quiet but unmistakable warning. “I know you. Give it back.”

Her grin widened as she felt the tension rise between you. This was her favorite moment—the way she could push you, the way you allowed her to dance right at the edge of your patience. She loved seeing that intensity flash in your eyes, knowing she had pulled you out of that work trance you always fell into. That was her magic, the power to unravel you, to bring you back to her.

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied sweetly, feigning innocence as she took a small step back, keeping the wrench hidden behind her back.

Your expression shifted, a hint of frustration flickering in your gaze as you let out a slow, controlled breath. “I’m not in the mood for this,” you replied, your tone dipping to something serious, each word carrying weight. “This is your last chance. Show me what’s behind your back.”

The thrill in her chest intensified, the playful glint in her eyes sparking even brighter. She loved this—the anticipation, the way your patience was slipping, how your usual calm was fraying ever so slightly. Smiling, she took a single step forward, her movements slow and deliberate as she leaned in, raising her arm ever so slightly to reveal the wrench, but still keeping it just out of your reach.

With a challenging gaze, she murmured, “Oh, this? You need this, don’t you?” Her voice was soft, teasing, pushing you just a little more, daring you to take it from her.

The serious look in your eyes sent a shiver down Kyujin's spine, though it did nothing to deter her; instead, it only made her pulse race faster. She had you right on the edge, that threshold she loved to push past. The thrill bubbled up inside her, electric and relentless, as she took a small, teasing step back, widening her smile in silent challenge.

Come on, heart racing as she looked up at you, her gaze mischievous, what are you going to do?

You held her gaze, jaw clenching just enough for her to see your patience slipping. Taking a step forward, you spoke slowly, a deadly calm in your tone that sent a thrill down her spine. “I’m going to count to three,” you said, your voice dangerously level, each word firm and steady. “And if you don’t hand it over by then, you’re going to regret it.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, echoing like a drumbeat as she bit her lip, clutching the wrench tighter behind her back. This was the moment she’d been waiting for, the moment where your resolve would break and she’d finally see you snap. She could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy, anticipation building like a thunderstorm. Her breaths came faster, excitement mingling with a tinge of apprehension. You were so close to breaking—so close.

“One…” you started, your gaze locked on hers, unwavering.

Her pulse quickened, breath catching as her mind raced, weighing whether to push just a little further. She felt the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins as she watched you, waiting, her heartbeat a dizzying tempo in her ears. Not yet, she thought, barely holding back a grin. Just a little more.

“Two…” The tone in your voice darkened, the tension thick enough that she felt it pressing down on her, making her body tingle with both anticipation and thrill.

Her stomach flipped as her body responded to the weight of the moment, an exhilarating thrill sparking through her as she kept her grip firm on the wrench. She wanted to see just how far she could go, to push you to the very edge before—

“Thr—”

“Okay, okay!” Kyujin laughed, pulling the wrench out from behind her back, her eyes gleaming as she flashed you a cheeky grin. “Here, happy?”

You took the wrench from her hand, your expression hard to read as you inspected it briefly. Your jaw clenched as you placed it back on the workbench with a bit more force than usual, the sound echoing through the garage. She watched you, her heart still racing, her body buzzing from the thrill of the game. She’d pushed you, teased you—but it wasn’t quite enough. She could see it in your expression: you were close, yet still holding on, your self-control just barely intact.

What will it take to finally push him over the edge?

Her gaze drifted back to the workbench, and her eyes landed on an older, more worn-looking wrench lying near the edge. Unlike the others, this one seemed different, cared for and used over the years. Curiosity pulled her in, and before she realized what she was doing, she reached out, her fingers closing around it. The metal felt cool and heavy, its weight more substantial than the others. She spun it absentmindedly between her fingers, the texture rough against her skin, as she continued to watch you, her mind still caught up in the thrill of pushing you to your limits.

Then, before she could register what was happening, the wrench slipped from her fingers.

Clank.

The metallic sound rang out sharply, filling the silence of the garage as it bounced against the hard floor. Her eyes widened in horror, her gaze shooting downward to the wrench lying at her feet. A small chip had broken off the side, the tiny piece of metal sitting on the floor beside it.

Her heart sank.

Oh no…

You went completely still, your entire posture rigid. Slowly, with an almost terrifying calm, you turned to look at her, your eyes narrowing as they landed on the damaged wrench at her feet. The weight of your gaze made her stomach drop, the realization settling heavily within her. This time, she knew she’d gone too far.

“Kyujin…” you said, voice low and controlled, a chill in your tone that made her chest tighten. You didn’t call her Jagiya now, not with the usual affection. The use of her name sent a clear message—this wasn’t a game anymore.

“I… I didn’t mean to…” she stammered, her voice trembling as her mind scrambled for words. “I didn’t know—”

You knelt down, picking up the chipped wrench with careful hands, your expression hardening as you turned it over, inspecting the damage with a cold, quiet intensity. “This was my dad’s,” you said, voice tight, each word laced with restrained emotion. “One of the few things I have left from him. And now it’s chipped because you couldn’t stop being a brat.”

The words struck her hard, guilt flooding her as the weight of what she’d done settled in. She hadn’t known how much this wrench meant to you, hadn’t realized the sentimental value it held. “Oppa, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t mean to chip it… I didn’t know”

You cut her off with a steady, disappointed look. “I warned you,” you said, your voice flat but brimming with frustration. “I gave you all these chances, and you didn’t listen. You wanted my attention so badly? Well, now you have it.”

Before she could react, you reached out, your hand firm yet gentle as you took her wrist, guiding her toward the low bench in the corner of the garage. Her heart raced, a blend of apprehension and regret flooding her as you sat down and pulled her gently but firmly across your lap. She felt the reality of the situation settling in—she’d crossed the line, and now she was about to face the consequences.

“Oppa please, I’m sorry…” she whimpered softly, her voice fragile, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Sorry,” you replied, your tone unyielding, “that’s always what you say after you’ve gone too far. But this time, sorry isn’t enough.” With one smooth motion, you lifted the hem of her skirt, exposing her, and tugged her cute pink printed panties down to her thighs, leaving her bare and vulnerable. She squirmed slightly, but your hand pressed firmly against her lower back, holding her in place as her heart hammered in her chest. “You need to learn your lesson.”

Kyujin lay across your lap, the weight of your words sinking in as guilt and anticipation mixed within her. The lighthearted playfulness from before had vanished, replaced by a sobering awareness of just how far she had pushed you. Each breath felt heavy as she lay there, exposed and vulnerable, her mind spinning as she finally realized the full extent of what she had done.

“I… I really am sorry,” she murmured, her voice small, each word filled with remorse as she lay still, her heart racing.

Your voice was steady, firm, with a touch of kindness beneath it that somehow both reassured and unsettled her. “How many spanks do you think you deserve?” you asked, your tone calm, yet carrying an edge that made her pulse quicken.

Kyujin’s breath hitched as she considered your question, her mind a swirl of emotions. Her cheeks flushed deeply with both embarrassment and anxiety as the silence stretched between you, heightening the tension in the room. She swallowed, looking down, and then whispered, “T-Ten?” Her voice was small, uncertain, as she glanced at you, silently hoping that her answer might soften your resolve.

But you shook your head slowly, letting out a low chuckle that sent a shiver down her spine. “Too low,” you replied, your tone almost teasing, yet leaving no room for negotiation. “Let’s double it. You deserve twenty, and you’re going to count every single one.”

The words settled over her, heavy and electrifying, as anticipation twisted her stomach into tight knots. Twenty. Her breaths came quicker, an intoxicating mix of apprehension and excitement building within her. The gravity of what lay ahead sank in, yet beneath the tension, a thrill pulsed through her, unmistakable and undeniable.

Without further preamble, you delivered the first spank—a sharp, stinging impact that shot through her like a lightning bolt. The suddenness of it stole her breath, and the hot sting radiated through her cheeks, the heat blooming beneath your hand. “O-One,” she gasped, her voice shaky, each syllable carrying the echo of the slap that lingered on her skin, flooding her senses.

You didn’t hesitate, bringing down a second spank, harder than the first. “Two,” she whimpered, the sting intensifying, an electric heat that made her squirm involuntarily, her body’s reaction beyond her control. The pain built, sharpened, sending a fiery ache through her, a throbbing warmth settling deep within her.

Another spank landed, this time on her opposite cheek, sending a fresh wave of stinging heat through her body. “T-Three… I’m sorry” she breathed out, her heart racing as the sensation spread, igniting her nerves. Her apology came almost on instinct, the words spilling from her lips as the intensity left her more vulnerable with each passing second.

The rhythm continued, a steady and unyielding cadence that grew with each strike, each spank bringing her closer to the edge. As she counted up to “Ten,” her voice came in breathless gasps, each number growing softer as her body arched against the sting, a mixture of pain and something more primal beginning to settle within her. The sensations blurred, the pain mingling with a strange sense of exhilaration, her breaths quick and shallow as her skin flushed hot.

With each spank, her awareness sharpened, the heat between her legs building in a slow, undeniable ache that surprised her. By the time she reached “Fifteen,” her body trembled with need, her entire being caught in the edge of pain and an unexpected, growing desire. Each strike seemed to deepen the ache within her, intensifying until it was impossible to ignore.

“Eighteen,” Kyujin whimpered, her voice filled with a mix of embarrassment and something deeper as her body tensed under your hand. The ache between her thighs was undeniable, and the warmth on her reddened skin only seemed to amplify it. She lay folded across your lap, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts, as she bit her lip, trying to steady herself.

You let your hand linger, hovering above her flushed cheeks as you shifted, drawing out the anticipation. Then, with a teasing touch, you let your fingers brush over her core, feeling the warmth radiating from her. Kyujin’s breath hitched as your fingers skimmed over her wetness, and you murmured softly, “You’re soaked. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

A wave of embarrassment washed over her, her cheeks turning crimson as she shifted under your hand. She swallowed, then whispered, “Please… can you touch me?” Her voice was soft, almost pleading.

You raised an eyebrow, considering her carefully before giving her an answer. “Only if you can handle five more,” you replied, your tone both calm and challenging.

Kyujin hesitated, her body tensing as she considered, but the need inside her was too strong to resist. Finally, she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes… I can take it.”

Without further delay, you delivered the nineteenth spank, the sharp sound filling the room as her body arched forward with a soft gasp. She whispered the number under her breath, her voice quivering as she counted, bracing herself. Each smack that followed left her trembling, her grip on the edge of the chair tightening.

“Twenty,” she breathed, her voice almost breaking as she melted into the sensation. You allowed your hand to linger, gently tracing along her tender skin, before resuming with a steady, controlled pace. Her body rocked slightly with each spank, her soft gasps punctuating the silence.

You allowed a momentary caress, just enough to keep her yearning, then raised your hand once more. “Twenty-one,” you counted, your hand connecting with her skin as her body jerked forward. Her breath hitched, the sensation sending a fresh wave of need through her.

“twenty-three…” Each word grew softer, her voice barely above a whisper, her resolve melting under your unrelenting touch.

When the final count, “Twenty-five,” fell from her lips, her body seemed to go limp, her breathing uneven as she lay across your lap, completely vulnerable. You gave her a moment, letting the silence stretch as she caught her breath, her muscles slowly relaxing.

Then, as she lay there, she looked back over her shoulder, her voice soft. “I… I’m sorry about the wrench,” she murmured, her tone filled with genuine regret. “I didn’t know it was so important.” She hesitated, her cheeks flushed as the regret in her voice was unmistakable.

Instead of answering, you slipped one finger along her folds, feeling her warmth and wetness as you pressed forward gently. Kyujin gasped, her hips instinctively pressing back into your touch. You maintained a steady, gentle rhythm, letting her feel every deliberate stroke as her body began to respond. Her breaths came in soft, shallow pants, and her fingers clutched at your leg, anchoring herself.

“Oh… ah…” she gasped softly, her voice trembling as she whispered, “Thank you…” Her body pressed back to meet each slow movement, her hips shifting as you continued, each gentle thrust pulling her deeper into the moment. You could feel her relax and tense with each stroke, her body melting into the rhythm you set.

As her breaths turned into soft, needy moans, you kept up the slow, careful pace, her body responding to each precise movement. Her hips rocked gently, each motion matching your touch as she surrendered completely to the feeling. You could feel her grip tighten on your thigh, her fingers digging in as her voice turned to soft, breathy whispers. “Please… don’t stop,” she whimpered, her words almost lost in her shallow breathing.

After a few minutes, you introduced a second finger, pressing deeper as her body adjusted. Her response was immediate—a soft, broken cry escaped her as her hips shifted instinctively, her body fully giving in. “Oh…” she gasped, her voice raw with desire as you pressed further, finding a slow, steady rhythm that matched her every breath. She melted into each careful thrust, her breaths growing louder as her hands clung tightly to your leg, her body rocking over your lap with each deliberate movement.

“Ah… yes…” she moaned, her voice breathless as she matched your pace, her hips moving in perfect sync. Her body seemed to come alive, every small movement intensifying the need building inside her. You maintained a calm, unhurried rhythm, drawing her closer and closer, her breathing quickening as her moans turned to desperate, trembling whimpers.

Sensing she was on the edge, you leaned down, your voice soft near her ear. “Hold on to me,” you murmured, letting her know she could fully let go. Her grip tightened around your thigh, her body tensing as she clung to you, her muscles tight with anticipation.

Then, as she reached her breaking point, you gave her a quick smack across her tender cheek, the jolt making her gasp, her body shuddering in response. Without pausing, you gave a gentle but firm pinch to her clit, increasing the intensity as you delivered one last, firm smack.

Kyujin’s entire body arched as the climax overtook her, a raw, breathless scream escaping her lips as the waves of release washed over her. She quivered uncontrollably, her legs shaking as she rode the intensity, her fingers clinging to your thigh with a fierce grip, holding on as the pleasure pulsed through her, her voice breaking into soft, gasping cries. Her entire body shuddered, each wave leaving her breathless until, finally, she collapsed, her body going slack as the sensations ebbed.

With a gentleness that surprised her, you began to caress her tender cheeks, ”Such a good girl” you coo, the words soft and affectionate with your touch soothing the ache as you carefully pulled her panties back up and lifted her off your lap. Her legs were shaky, her body still buzzing with need, as she clung to you, her head nestled against your shoulder as you led her slowly to the bedroom.

Once there, you laid her down carefully on her stomach, your hands supporting her as her heart rate slowly began to settle. You lifted her skirt again, her breath catching as she felt the cool air against her heated skin, a shiver running through her at the sharp contrast. She tensed, expecting another touch, another swat, but instead, your hand rested softly on her back, grounding her.

You leaned down, your lips trailing soft, featherlight kisses along her red, sensitive skin, each touch a gentle balm for the stinging heat that lingered. Slowly, you pressed tender kisses across her cheeks, each one a silent apology, a reassurance for the discomfort she had felt. Your lips moved down, tracing over her thighs, lingering where her skin was still warm, before trailing up along her back, leaving a path of warmth that melted away the ache. As you reached her neck, you pressed a gentle kiss, pausing there as if grounding her with your presence.

Kyujin shivered beneath your touch, her breath catching with each kiss as she felt you move over her. The warmth of your kisses soothed her, easing away the ache that had built in her body. Though the arousal still simmered within her, your touch began to calm the frustration she’d felt, replacing it with a comforting warmth. Each kiss seemed to melt away the remaining tension, coaxing her into a soft, quiet relief.

You pulled back slightly, your voice a low murmur as you said, “I’ll be right back,” and moved to stand. But as you took a step, Kyujin’s hand reached out, her fingers clutching softly, almost desperately, at your arm. “Wait, stop,” she whispered, her voice fragile, a hint of fear threading through her words. “Please don’t go…”

You turned back instantly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, the warmth of your lips a gentle reassurance. “I’ll be right back, baby,” you murmured softly. “Just getting the lotion.”

Kyujin nodded slowly, her fingers relaxing as you spoke, feeling a warmth spread through her at hearing you call her “baby” again. It softened her, brought her back to a sense of comfort, and she watched you leave the room, her heart still racing but now pulsing with a softer, calmer beat.

When you returned, you settled beside her, pouring a small amount of lotion into your hands and rubbing them together to warm it before reaching toward her. As your hands gently applied the lotion to her sore cheeks, she felt an initial sting, the cool lotion biting against her heated skin, but it quickly shifted to relief. She let out a soft sigh as you carefully massaged the lotion into her, your hands moving in slow, tender circles that soothed and relaxed her.

With every stroke of your fingers against her skin, she felt herself melting deeper into the bed, the lingering tension and ache gradually easing away as you continued to massage her cheeks with thoughtful care. Your touch was tender, each movement slow and purposeful, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink fully into the moment, the warmth of your hands grounding her. Her body relaxed, the warmth of your hands dissipating the residual sting as she sighed softly, her entire being unwinding under your touch.

When you finished, you lay down beside her, gathering her into your arms and pulling her close. She nestled against you, her head resting on your chest, her legs entwined with yours, the comfort of your embrace replacing the lingering soreness with a deep sense of peace. The warmth of your body against hers soothed her, your presence surrounding her like a protective shield that let her finally relax.

“Oppa, I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she looked up at you, eyes full of sincerity. “I wasn’t thinking... I really didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You kissed the top of her head gently, letting your hand stroke through her hair with a reassuring touch. “I know, Jagiya,” you murmured softly, each word brimming with understanding. “It’s okay. I forgave you. We’re done with that now.”

She blinked, her eyes beginning to tear up, the weight of guilt still heavy in her chest. “But… it was your dad’s,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she thought of how much that wrench had meant to you. “I’m so, so sorry…”

Noticing the tears pooling in her eyes, you gently cupped her face, your thumb brushing away the tears as they fell, each touch soft and full of care. “Shh, baby,” you whispered, pressing a series of gentle kisses across her cheeks, her forehead, and her lips. “It’s okay, don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? I know you didn’t mean it.”

Kyujin took a shaky breath, feeling the tightness of guilt in her chest slowly ease as your comforting words settled over her. She nuzzled closer, burying her face against your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart beneath her cheek. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she whispered, her voice soft and brimming with affection, each word carrying the relief that your forgiveness had brought her.

You wrapped your arms around her tighter, your voice a soothing murmur as you replied, “No matter what happens, I’ll always take care of you.” You let your hands stroke down her back, your gentle embrace surrounding her, creating a space of warmth and safety.

They lay there together, wrapped in a quiet intimacy that soothed every frayed edge of the evening. The tension and pain faded away, replaced by the comfort of your presence, the feel of your warmth wrapping around her. Exhaustion crept up slowly, the weight of the day settling over her as her eyes grew heavy, her breathing slowing as she felt your steady heartbeat beneath her. Gradually, she drifted off to sleep in your arms, feeling safe, loved, and completely forgiven, a peaceful smile softening her features as she relaxed fully into your embrace.

The next morning, Kyujin awoke to the soft light of dawn streaming gently through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. She stirred slowly, feeling the tender throb that lingered as a soft reminder of the night before. Every small movement brought an ache, but the warmth and comfort of knowing things were right between them filled her with peace.

Turning carefully, she found herself face-to-face with you, your arm still wrapped around her waist. You were fast asleep, chest rising and falling steadily, each breath soft against her skin. She gazed at you, her face softened in the peaceful quiet of sleep, and a gentle smile tugged at her lips. Brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead, she leaned in, pressing a tiny, featherlight kiss there.

She pulled back just enough to look at you, feeling her heart flutter. Then, barely resisting a giggle, she leaned in again, pressing another soft kiss to your cheek, nose and another just above your brow. Each kiss was a gentle attempt to wake, a playful way of pulling you from your dreams.

After a moment, you feel Kyujin's soft kisses, feather-light on your face, and slowly your eyes flutter open. A warm, sleepy smile forms on your lips as you take her in, a quiet chuckle escaping you. “Good morning,” you murmur, your voice husky with sleep, gaze full of affection as you look at her.

Kyujin beams, pleased with herself, a sparkle of delight in her eyes. “Good morning,” she whispers back, snuggling closer to you, her warmth melting into yours as you instinctively tighten your arm around her, pulling her even closer.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, your voice still heavy with sleep as you gently hold Kyujin close.

She winces slightly as she stretches, the soreness from the night before apparent, but she meets your gaze, her voice soft. “Sore… but okay.”

A quiet chuckle escapes you as you pull her close to your chest. “You were brave last night,” you murmur, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’m proud of you.”

Your words bring a warm glow to her cheeks, and you feel her nuzzle even closer, a sense of safety and love filling the quiet space between you. But as you start to sit up, she lets out a small sound of discomfort, instinctively reaching out, her fingers grasping onto you.

“Don’t leave…” she mumbles, her voice soft, as she clings to you, making it clear she wants to stay close.

You laugh gently, lifting her effortlessly into your arms and holding her tight. You kiss the top of her head, your hand stroking her back in slow, soothing motions. “Alright, baby,” you say, a playful note in your voice, “how about we make breakfast together?”

Her legs wrap around your waist, her arms resting around your shoulders as you carry her out of bed. She sighs softly, contented, her head settling on your shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen. Once there, you try to set her down on a chair, but her grip tightens, and she shakes her head with a soft, stubborn whine.

“C’mon, baby,” you tease, smiling as you glance down at her. “I have to make breakfast.”

“Stay with me,” she murmurs, pressing closer, unwilling to let go.

You chuckle warmly, giving in as you move around the kitchen, her arms still wrapped around you. “Toast or cereal?” you ask, looking down with a smile.

“Toast, please,” she replies, shifting slightly and wincing as she adjusts to the soreness.

You slide two slices of bread into the toaster, then wrap your arms around her waist, holding her close. Your hands move in soothing circles along her back, slipping down to massage her gently. She lets out a quiet whimper, relaxing into you and wrapping her arms more snugly around your neck.

She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, then trails another along your jawline, her lips brushing against your skin with a warmth that lingers. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she whispers, her voice full of warmth.

You soften, meeting her gaze with affection before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Always, my love,” you murmur. “It’s my favorite thing to do.”

A smile lights her face as she rests her head on your shoulder, her fingers tracing gentle patterns along your neck and through your hair. When the toast pops, you quickly butter each slice and hand one to her. She takes a bite, savoring the warmth as she stays nestled against you. Every so often, she leans in to press a kiss to your cheek or nuzzle your neck, her soft smile matching yours as you share the quiet moment.

You chuckle, rubbing slow, comforting circles on her back as you tease, “You’re clingy this morning.”

She giggles, taking another bite before leaning in again to kiss your cheek. “I just don’t want you to leave,” she whispers playfully, her voice soft.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead as you hold her close, the warmth between you as comforting as the morning light filtering in around you.

After breakfast, you stand up from your chair with Kyujin still in your arms. You begin carrying her to the bathroom as she nestles against you, her head resting gently on your shoulder. Inside, you set her down and start the bath, testing the temperature until it’s perfectly warm—just right to ease the ache in her muscles. You glance over at her, meeting her eyes as you begin to help her undress, your touch lingering on each piece, slow and gentle. She watches you quietly, her gaze soft but thoughtful, as if there’s something she’s been holding back.

Once she’s undressed, you guide her into the bath, lowering her carefully into the warm water. She releases a sigh, her body sinking into the soothing heat. The calm stillness in the room is almost palpable, broken only by the occasional gentle splash of water as you pour a cup over her shoulders, letting it cascade down her back. She stays quiet, watching you intently, and you notice the slight crease in her brow, the way her lips press together as if deep in thought. With each tender motion, you sense her hesitation growing, as if she’s contemplating something she’s not quite ready to voice.

You reach for the shampoo, pouring a small amount into your hands and working it into her hair, your fingers moving in slow, comforting circles along her scalp. Kyujin’s eyes close, and she leans into your touch, each gentle press of your fingertips lulling her into relaxation. But still, that quiet tension lingers in the way she holds herself, a shadow that hasn’t fully eased.

As you massage the shampoo through her hair, her breaths deepen, but she doesn’t speak, her expression softening and her shoulders relaxing under your hands. You lean over, dipping the cup into the water and preparing to rinse, but you can’t ignore the way her eyes flicker, as if a weight is pressing on her heart.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a murmur, your hands still gentle in her hair.

She hesitates, her lashes fluttering before she looks away, her voice almost a whisper. “I… I feel like you forgave me too soon.”

You pause, the water warm against your hands as you take in her words. She glances down, her expression clouded, her fingers tracing the water’s surface as if searching for the right way to explain. “I was careless. I didn’t think… about what the wrench could mean to you,” she murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I really didn't mean to Opaa...”

Your hands rest in her hair for a beat, then slowly you tip her chin up with gentle fingers, meeting her gaze. “Jagiya” you murmur, your eyes soft, “I forgave you because I know it was a mistake. You didn’t mean to hurt me, and you regret it. That’s all that matters to me.”

She looks away, her cheeks warming under your gaze, guilt flickering across her features. “But it was important to you,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. “I should have been more careful… You deserved more time to be mad. I just… don’t want to hurt you again.”

With the cup still in hand, you brush your thumb over her cheek, letting her feel the warmth of your touch as you cradle her face. “We all make mistakes, Jagiya,” you say gently, your voice a steady reassurance. “You’ve already shown me how much you care. That’s all I need to know.”

Her eyes well up as she leans into your touch, her shoulders easing as if a weight has finally lifted. She looks at you, her voice breaking softly. “Thank you for being so patient with me… even when I don’t deserve it.”

You smile softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. As you continue rinsing the shampoo from her hair, you press a tender kiss to her forehead, letting her know, without words, that she’s understood and forgiven.

“You deserve all the care I can give,” you murmur, your voice filled with quiet reassurance. You rest your hand on her cheek, brushing a thumb along her damp skin, letting her feel the warmth and steadiness in your touch. Her eyes close, leaning into the comfort you offer, each gentle stroke dispelling her lingering worries. As you rinse the last of the shampoo from her hair, her expression softens, tension melting away as she takes a deep, steadying breath.

In that moment, you hold her gaze, letting her see the depth of your patience and the unreserved love reflected there. The weight she’d been carrying seems to dissolve, replaced by a sense of safety and acceptance that surrounds her like the warmth of the bath. She reaches up, placing her hand over yours, and as you stay there, quiet and close, she knows, fully, that she is forgiven and loved beyond measure.

[aceyalonso]

F1 drivers if they were on the r/AITAH subreddit

drivers : oscar piastri, lando norris, charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, max verstappen, george russell, franco colapinto

warnings/notes : jos verstappen 🤮

a/n : i know i said i was on hiatus but c'mon this was such a fun idea

main masterlist | taglist form

So this might sound weird, but here goes. My girlfriend and I (both 23) love visiting new places, and she’s a big animal lover. She found this adorable cat café nearby and has been talking about going for weeks. I wasn’t as excited but figured it’d be fun to surprise her, so I booked us a spot and thought I’d try to make it extra special.

Here’s the thing: I wanted to be "that guy" who shows up with a bag of cat treats so all the cats would flock to us. It sounds ridiculous, but my goal was to make her day. When we got there, I pulled out the treats and instantly had a few cats’ attention. My girlfriend laughed, but within a few minutes, an employee came over, looking annoyed, and told me I couldn't give the cats treats from outside.

Apparently, they have specific diets or something, and I was "interfering." I apologized, put the treats away, and thought that was the end of it. But soon after, another employee came up, saying we were being "disruptive" because all the cats were lingering around us, and they even hinted we might need to leave if it didn’t stop. I hadn’t meant to cause a scene and told them it wasn’t a big deal—we’d stop and just hang out like everyone else. But by this point, my girlfriend was pretty embarrassed, and it killed the vibe of our day.

We left a bit earlier than planned, and now my girlfriend thinks it was a bit of a jerk move, even though she appreciated the effort. I didn’t mean to upset anyone or break the rules, just thought it’d be fun to make the cats a bit more social. But now I’m wondering if I messed up by not sticking to the café’s way of doing things.

So, AITAH?

Edit: I’ve learned my lesson. I will never underestimate the dietary regulations of a cat café ever again.

So, I (24M) have this bad habit of forgetting what’s in my fridge. A while ago, I bought some chicken, but I totally forgot about it, and it just sat there for months. I was cleaning out my fridge the other day and found the chicken at the back, and it still looked fine to me—didn’t smell bad, didn’t look weird—so I thought, "Why not? It’s still good."

I cooked it up, had a nice meal, and didn’t think much of it. But then, later that night, I told my mom about it (thinking she'd just laugh), and she completely freaked out. She went on this whole rant about food safety, salmonella, and how I could’ve poisoned myself. I was just like, "It tasted fine, mom, calm down."

She kept texting me all night asking if I felt okay, if I was getting any stomach pains, and even called a few of my friends to check in on me. Honestly, I’m fine—nothing happened, and I feel perfectly normal.

But now she’s upset with me, saying I’m being careless and that I should never eat food that old, even if it seems fine. I just didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. I mean, people eat leftovers all the time, right? It wasn’t even that old.

So, AITAH for eating chicken that’s been in my fridge for 9 months and making my mom worry unnecessarily?

Edit: Just to clarify, I didn’t intentionally keep it for 9 months. I honestly just forgot about it in the back of the fridge. And no, I’m not sick. Everything’s fine. I promise I won’t be eating anything old again anytime soon!

I (27M) have a dog, Leo, who’s basically my best friend. He’s super friendly and well-behaved, and honestly, I just feel better when he’s around. I bring him everywhere I go – to cafes, parks, and friend gatherings. You name it, Leo’s there. Most people are fine with it because he’s adorable and loves everyone.

Recently, though, my friends have started making comments about it. Last weekend, we met up at this small, cozy café for brunch, and I brought Leo along. He just curled up next to my chair and didn’t bother anyone. But my friend Paul pulled me aside afterward and said it was kind of annoying that I kept bringing Leo without asking. He said not everyone wants a dog around all the time, and it’s “getting old.”

I don’t understand where this is coming from, especially since Leo’s never caused any problems. I figured since no one had said anything before, they were fine with it. Plus, I’m always careful to keep him out of people’s way, and he’s honestly better behaved than most dogs I know. I feel like they’re making a big deal out of nothing, but now I’m wondering if maybe I should have checked with everyone first.

So, AITAH for always bringing my dog? Should I have asked before assuming everyone was okay with it?

Edit: Just for context, Leo’s a small dog – not the type to jump on people or bark a lot. He just sits quietly and naps most of the time. Also, I’ve always cleaned up after him when necessary, so he hasn’t left any “souvenirs” for anyone to deal with.

So, I (39M) have this friend, Nico (also 39M), and we’ve been friends since we were kids. We’re both super competitive by nature, and we tend to push each other a lot. Whether it’s video games, sports, or even something like mini-golf, everything somehow turns into a competition between us. It’s mostly just for fun… until recently.

A few weeks ago, we were at a friend’s birthday party, and they had one of those racing setups in the living room. Of course, Nico and I immediately challenged each other, and we both got really into it. I mean, I might’ve been trash-talking a bit (okay, maybe a lot), but we were both laughing, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.

Well, I ended up beating him by a fraction of a second, and I might’ve celebrated a bit too enthusiastically—think victory lap around the living room, calling him out in front of everyone, the whole deal. After that, Nico got pretty quiet and didn’t talk to me much for the rest of the night. Later, a mutual friend told me that Nico felt like I was “rubbing it in,” and it embarrassed him.

Now I feel bad. I honestly thought we were just having fun and didn’t realize he’d take it so personally. I tried to apologize, but he just brushed it off and hasn’t really been himself around me since.

So… AITAH for taking things a bit too far with my friend, or was it all just part of the usual friendly rivalry?

Edit: We’ve always had this kind of back-and-forth, so I’m not sure why this time it got to him. Just thought I’d get some outside perspective before I bring it up with him again.

Okay, I know this sounds insane, but hear me out. I (30M) love making pancakes, and I’m pretty proud of my recipe. It’s become sort of a tradition to make them for my family when I visit my parents. They’re always really nice about it and say they love them, but... I’m starting to think they’ve just been too polite.

A few weeks ago, I was at my parents’ house and decided to whip up a big batch of pancakes for breakfast. My mom and dad both had seconds, and I thought it was a win. But later that night, my mom started having really bad stomach pains. We took her to the hospital, and she ended up needing surgery for appendicitis. It was a scary experience, but thankfully, she’s okay now.

Here’s where it gets weirder. Just a few days after my mom came home from the hospital, my dad started having the same symptoms. At first, we joked that it was sympathy pains, but he ended up in the ER too, with the exact same issue—appendicitis.

Now my whole family is convinced it was my pancakes. I know logically that my cooking can’t cause appendicitis, but I can’t help but feel responsible because they both got sick right after eating my breakfast. My parents keep joking that they’re never eating my pancakes again, and my siblings have been giving me a hard time about it, saying I’m banned from the kitchen.

So, AITAH for giving both my parents appendicitis with my cooking, or am I just an unlucky chef?

Edit: Just to clarify, I don’t actually think I gave them appendicitis, but the timing is very suspicious, and now my parents are scared of my pancakes. I might need a new family recipe...

So, I (27M) have two cats (Jimmy & Sassy), and they’re pretty much my babies. They’re super affectionate with me but can be a bit picky about who they like. My dad (52M), on the other hand, isn’t exactly a "cat person." He’s more of the “why do you have pets that don’t do anything useful?” type, but he still visits often and tolerates them because he knows they’re important to me.

The other day, my dad came over, and as usual, my cats were lounging on the couch. He decided to sit down and give them a little nudge to move over, but instead of just shuffling away, one of my cats (Jimmy) swiped at his face. It wasn’t a deep scratch, but it was enough to leave a red mark and get my dad pretty annoyed. I couldn’t help but laugh a bit because he was acting all grumpy about it, muttering something about "those spoiled cats."

He got even more annoyed when he saw me laughing and said I should discipline my cats better and not let them scratch people. I tried explaining that cats are territorial and react like that when they’re suddenly pushed, especially by someone they’re not used to. I offered him a band-aid, but he refused and ended up leaving earlier than planned.

Now my mom is telling me I should’ve been more sympathetic and that I should’ve scolded my cat instead of laughing. But honestly, I feel like it was just a normal cat reaction, and my dad knows how they can be. So now I’m wondering, AITAH for laughing when my cat scratched my dad’s face instead of taking it more seriously?

Edit: Just to clarify, my cats don’t usually attack people. They’re very cuddly with me and my friends, but my dad’s not around them enough for them to be comfortable. I’ll definitely make sure he approaches them differently next time... if he ever wants to come back!

So, this might sound a bit weird, but hear me out. I (26M) work at this company, and my boss, "Toto" (52M), and I have a really good relationship. We get along great, share a lot of common interests, and he’s been a bit of a mentor to me. We hang out outside of work sometimes, and every now and then, I’ll stay over at his place after we have dinner or watch a game, just because it’s more convenient.

Recently, my friends found out about this and started making fun of me, calling it “sleepovers” with my boss. I laughed it off at first, but they’ve started saying it’s kind of weird and unprofessional to be that close with your boss. They’re acting like I’m trying to suck up or get some kind of special treatment, but that’s honestly not the case. I just enjoy his company, and we have a good time hanging out.

The thing is, I never really mentioned it to my friends before because it just didn’t seem like a big deal. I figured if I told them, they’d blow it out of proportion (which is exactly what’s happening now). But now they’re saying it’s odd that I didn’t bring it up sooner and that it’s kind of strange to be having “sleepovers” with someone who’s technically in charge of me at work.

So, AITAH for not telling my friends that I sometimes crash at my boss’s place, or are they just overreacting?

Edit: For context, it’s not like I’m staying there every weekend or anything. It’s maybe once a month if we’re having a late night and it’s easier than going all the way back to my place. Plus, he’s got a massive guest room, so it’s not like I’m sleeping on the couch or something. It’s just a practical arrangement

Okay, so I (21M) have a bit of a problem, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s even a problem or just something I can’t control. I’ve noticed lately that whenever I’m doing interviews or talking to reporters, I end up coming off as flirting with them, even though I’m not trying to at all.

I’m naturally a friendly person, and I like to joke around and be engaging. But I’ve had a few reporters (and even some photographers) tell me after interviews that I’ve been “charming” or “too smooth” with them. Some of them even hinted that I was “leading them on.” The thing is, I don’t even notice it happening. I just talk to them like I would anyone else, but apparently, I’m making it seem like I’m flirting—without even trying!

One reporter even gave me her number after an interview, and when I asked if she was just being friendly, she said, “You were a little more than friendly.” I was totally confused because I thought we were just having a good conversation about racing. Now I’m worried that I’m giving the wrong impression to people without meaning to, and I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings or make things uncomfortable.

So, AITAH for accidentally flirting with reporters and leading them on when I really don’t mean to? Should I tone down my "natural charm"?

Edit: Just to clarify, I’m not trying to flirt with anyone, reporter or not. I’m just being myself, but it seems like it’s coming off differently than I intended. It’s a bit awkward now, and I’m wondering if I should change how I interact in interviews.

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[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

They are being mind-controled by a villain and they believe you cheated on them (Part.1)

A fog has settled between you, a cruel illusion woven by unseen hands. The X-Man, your beloved, now look at you with wounded eyes, twisted by whispers that cloud their trust.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier & Bobby Drake

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- When Logan confronts you, it’s with an intensity that feels like it could crack the very air around you. His accusations are sharp, his words biting, and you barely recognize the man standing before you. He paces like a caged animal, his fists clenched, and his usually calm eyes are clouded with betrayal. Despite your confusion and protests, he remains adamant, pain flickering in his expression as he tries to push you away.

- You try to explain, to reach him, but Logan’s too deep in the hurt. He accuses you of breaking his trust, the one thing he’s rarely given anyone, and every word feels like a wound that digs deeper into both of you. Watching him struggle is heartbreaking—Logan, who’s faced everything with bravery, looks broken, vulnerable, and angry all at once, and it’s all directed at you.

- Days pass after the confrontation, and Logan distances himself from you entirely. He spends time in isolation, wrestling with his inner demons, consumed by a pain that he believes you’ve caused. Though you know the truth, his cold behavior is excruciating, and you can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever trust you again. You feel the loss of him like a piece of yourself gone missing.

- It’s a week later when the haze finally lifts from Logan’s mind, and the weight of realization crashes down on him. He remembers every word he threw at you, the devastation on your face, and it feels like claws are raking across his heart. He immediately knows he’s made a terrible mistake, that he’s been manipulated, and that he let it tear the two of you apart.

- Logan doesn’t waste a second after the truth comes to light. He finds you, standing before you with an unfamiliar vulnerability in his posture. The look in his eyes is almost childlike, full of remorse and guilt. He barely knows where to start, his voice barely above a whisper as he says, “Darlin’, I messed up… and I’m so sorry.”

- His apology is raw, filled with regret as he struggles to find the right words to convey the depth of his remorse. Logan isn’t one to be emotional, but there’s something vulnerable in the way he reaches for your hand, as if afraid you’ll pull away. He admits to letting his fears get the best of him and begs you to forgive him, acknowledging that he never should’ve doubted you.

- You accept his apology, though the pain is still there. But when Logan pulls you into his arms, holding you like he’s terrified to let go, the walls around your heart start to crack. He promises, over and over, that he’ll make it right, that he’ll spend the rest of his life proving he’ll never doubt you again. His words are like balm to your broken heart, and slowly, you let him back in.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy’s confrontation is full of drama and heartbreak. His usual charm is gone, replaced by a sharp bitterness you’ve never seen from him before. He speaks with an edge, accusing you of betrayal, and it feels like he’s tearing your heart apart with each accusation. His voice is uncharacteristically quiet, pained, and he looks at you as though you’ve ripped his heart out.

- He’s visibly devastated, masking his hurt with sarcasm and bitterness as he tries to process what he thinks you’ve done. When you try to explain, he cuts you off, refusing to let you defend yourself, as if he’s afraid that hearing you out would only deepen the wound. Remy, who’s usually so open and loving, now feels closed off, unreachable.

- The days that follow are painful, as Remy retreats into himself, haunted by the idea that you betrayed him. He’s normally social and outgoing, but you notice he’s withdrawn, spending more time alone. He’s haunted by the memories of the life you built together, struggling with an emptiness that seems to swallow him whole.

- The moment the mind control breaks, Remy’s world feels like it’s spinning. The realization of his mistake hits him hard, and guilt floods every part of him. He sees, painfully, that his trust was manipulated, and the weight of his accusations toward you crushes him. He spends sleepless nights thinking of how he hurt you, how he let himself be blinded.

- He seeks you out immediately, carrying flowers as a small gesture of peace, his hands shaking slightly as he approaches. Remy’s usual swagger is nowhere to be seen, replaced with a genuine, almost desperate sincerity. He tells you how sorry he is, his voice trembling as he explains how he was played, how he let his fears consume him.

- Remy’s apology is heartfelt, filled with regret, as he stands before you vulnerable and bare. He acknowledges that he should have trusted you, that he let his insecurities get the better of him. His words are raw, his gaze intense as he begs you to forgive him. The flowers fall from his hands as he reaches for yours, a silent plea for another chance.

- When you finally forgive him, Remy’s relief is palpable. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he swears he’ll never doubt you again. His lips brush against your forehead, his voice barely a whisper as he promises to rebuild the trust he shattered. In that moment, you feel the depth of his love and regret, and your heart begins to heal.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt’s confrontation is heartbreaking and full of sorrow. He approaches you with tears in his eyes, struggling to voice his accusations because the very thought pains him deeply. His faith in you has been his rock, and now, it feels like that foundation has been cracked. He’s devastated, his voice soft but filled with agony as he asks if it’s true.

- He tries to maintain his calm demeanor, but you can see the turmoil in his eyes. Kurt’s normally gentle spirit is marred by doubt, and every word he says feels like a dagger to his own heart. His hurt is almost palpable, and it’s clear he’s wrestling with the pain of even thinking you could betray him.

- In the days that follow, Kurt’s heartache is evident in his every action. He goes through the motions, struggling with his faith, his love, and his broken trust. He distances himself, praying for guidance but feeling lost without you by his side. The ache of loneliness gnaws at him, leaving him hollow and uncertain.

- When the mind control is finally lifted, Kurt’s guilt is immediate and overwhelming. He realizes that he was manipulated, that he was led to doubt the one person he trusts most in the world. The weight of that mistake crushes him, and he falls to his knees in prayer, asking for forgiveness before he can even face you.

- Kurt finds you with a heavy heart, his usual gentle smile replaced with a look of remorse. He takes your hands in his, looking at you with tear-filled eyes as he begins to apologize. His voice trembles, filled with the weight of his regret, as he tells you how deeply he’s sorry for doubting you, for letting his fears take over.

- His apology is sincere, and his words are filled with emotion as he explains the mental manipulation he fell under. Kurt admits that he should have trusted in your love, that he should have held on to the faith he always had in you. He looks at you with a sadness that pierces your heart, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek as he asks for your forgiveness.

- When you forgive him, Kurt’s relief is visible in every part of his being. He holds you close, whispering promises of love and trust, his embrace warm and full of tenderness. He presses a kiss to your forehead, vowing never to let anything come between you again. In his arms, you feel the depth of his love and the healing of the wounds that the villain’s manipulations tried to create.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott’s confrontation with you is direct and intense, as he’s always been the type to tackle issues head-on. His voice is steely as he lays out what he believes he’s discovered, his emotions restrained but still evident in the tension in his jaw and the way his hands clench at his sides. He’s hurt, yes, but also furious, struggling to understand how someone he trusts so deeply could have supposedly betrayed him.

- You try to explain yourself, but Scott cuts you off, his tone sharp and pained. He refuses to listen, his normally calm and rational mind clouded by the betrayal he believes he’s facing. His words sting, each one landing with the force of his suppressed anger, leaving you feeling both confused and devastated. Seeing him like this, distant and cold, breaks something inside of you.

- The days that follow are almost unbearable. Scott avoids you at every turn, burying himself in his responsibilities as a leader, his emotions carefully hidden behind a mask of professionalism. He’s always been committed to his duty, but now he throws himself into it with an almost unhealthy intensity, trying to ignore the ache of what he thinks is lost.

- When the mind control finally breaks, Scott feels the truth hit him like a physical blow. The realization that he’s been manipulated, that he allowed a villain to cloud his judgment and shatter his trust in you, fills him with an overwhelming guilt. He replays every harsh word he threw at you, and each memory feels like a knife to his heart.

- Scott’s apology is quiet but incredibly sincere. He approaches you cautiously, clearly struggling with the weight of his guilt. His voice is thick with emotion as he explains what happened, admitting that he let his insecurities and fears get the best of him. For Scott, the loss of control over his emotions is almost as painful as the thought of having hurt you.

- He’s never been one to beg, but there’s a quiet desperation in his voice as he asks for your forgiveness, his hand gently reaching out to touch yours. He promises to do better, to trust you more deeply, to never let his own doubts cloud his love for you again. His words are steady, but there’s a vulnerability in his expression that speaks volumes.

- When you finally forgive him, Scott’s relief is palpable. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he whispers words of love and promises for the future. He’s still haunted by what he did, but your forgiveness allows him to finally let go, and he vows to spend every day proving just how much he trusts and values you.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean’s confrontation is heartbreaking. She approaches you cautiously, her voice soft yet filled with a quiet pain. Jean is sensitive to others’ emotions, and even as she accuses you, there’s a sadness in her eyes, like she’s already mourning what she thinks you’ve done. She wants to believe in you, but the thought of betrayal has left her shaken.

- As you try to explain yourself, Jean listens with her arms crossed protectively over her chest, her expression pained. She’s torn, doubting herself as much as she doubts you, and each word you speak seems to only deepen her confusion. It’s clear she’s struggling to make sense of her emotions, but she can’t bring herself to fully believe in your innocence.

- The days that follow are marked by an emptiness that seems to cling to her. Jean is normally warm and open, but now she’s withdrawn, avoiding everyone, especially you. She’s always been a source of strength for those around her, but now, the sense of betrayal has left her feeling isolated and alone, unable to find comfort in anything.

- When the mind control finally breaks, the realization of what happened hits her like a wave of relief and horror. She feels as though her heart has been shattered, and the guilt of having doubted you, even for a moment, consumes her. Jean has always valued honesty and empathy, and knowing she let her fears get the best of her is deeply painful.

- Jean’s apology is tender and filled with remorse. She finds you, her eyes brimming with tears, and she doesn’t hold back as she tells you just how sorry she is. She explains what happened, her voice thick with regret, admitting that she let her insecurities cloud her trust in you. For Jean, failing to see past the manipulation hurts as much as the thought of losing you.

- She takes your hands in hers, her grip gentle but firm, as she begs you to forgive her. Jean promises to trust in your love, to hold on to the connection you share, no matter what challenges come her way. Her vulnerability is evident, and you can see just how much this has affected her.

- When you finally forgive her, Jean’s relief is visible in every part of her being. She pulls you close, her arms wrapping around you as if afraid to let go. Her embrace is warm, her love tangible in the way she holds you, and you can feel the depth of her emotions as she promises to always trust you, no matter what obstacles they face.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo’s confrontation with you is intense, though her tone is calm and collected, as always. She approaches you with a steely expression, her voice as cold as a winter storm. Ororo is a pillar of strength and wisdom, and the very idea of betrayal cuts deeply into her sense of trust. She doesn’t raise her voice, but every word she speaks feels like a carefully controlled strike.

- You try to explain yourself, but Ororo listens with an unreadable expression, her gaze piercing. She’s hurting, and though she tries to hide it, there’s a pain in her eyes that you can’t ignore. Ororo is normally compassionate and understanding, but this supposed betrayal has left her wounded, her trust shaken in a way she’s not used to.

- The days that follow are marked by a coldness in her demeanor. Ororo throws herself into her work, her usual warmth and empathy replaced by a distant, almost unreachable demeanor. She is always the voice of reason and calm, but now, her heart feels like it’s frozen, and even her connection to nature feels strained, as if reflecting her internal turmoil.

- When the mind control finally breaks, the realization of her mistake crashes down on her. Ororo is a woman of honor, and the thought that she let her trust waver, even under manipulation, is deeply painful. The guilt of having doubted you feels like a storm raging inside her, and she knows that she has to make things right.

- Ororo’s apology is graceful yet heartfelt. She approaches you with humility, her usual poise softened by the vulnerability in her expression. She explains what happened, her voice steady but filled with emotion, and she admits that she should have trusted in the love you share. For Ororo, letting herself be manipulated feels like a failure, and she’s determined to prove that it won’t happen again.

- She reaches out, her hand resting gently on yours as she asks for your forgiveness. Ororo speaks from the heart, her words filled with sincerity as she promises to always trust in the bond you share. Her gaze is intense, filled with the promise of a renewed commitment, and there’s a quiet strength in her apology that reassures you of her love.

- When you finally forgive her, Ororo���s relief is like a breath of fresh air. She pulls you into a gentle embrace, her arms wrapped around you with a warmth that only she can offer. You feel the calmness of her presence, the quiet strength that has always been her hallmark, and she holds you close, vowing that she’ll never let doubt come between you again.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue’s confrontation is a mix of frustration and heartbreak. She’s never one to mince words, and she lets her emotions pour out as she confronts you, her accent thicker as she struggles to control the pain in her voice. Her fists are clenched, and though she’s trying to stay calm, it’s clear that the betrayal she thinks has happened is tearing her apart.

- She listens as you try to explain, but the disbelief in her gaze cuts deep. Rogue has always struggled with trust, knowing how it feels to be hurt and left behind, so the idea that you could have done something like this shatters her. She’s hurting so deeply, and though she wants to believe you, she feels trapped by the manipulation that’s clouded her judgment.

- After the confrontation, Rogue withdraws, finding solace in her usual haunts and her own thoughts. She’s normally the life of the room, with her vibrant personality and teasing charm, but now, there’s a heaviness to her that makes her seem a million miles away. She hides her pain behind a facade, trying to convince herself that maybe she’s better off without you.

- When the mind control finally fades, Rogue is overwhelmed with guilt and anger at herself for having doubted you. The realization that she’s been tricked feels like salt in an open wound, and she’s furious with the villain who manipulated her, as well as herself for not trusting in your love. She hates that she let her insecurities control her.

- Rogue’s apology is raw and filled with emotion. She approaches you with hesitation, her voice soft but steady as she admits she was wrong. She’s not one to beg, but there’s a vulnerability in her tone as she asks for your forgiveness. She admits how much it hurt her to doubt you and promises to trust in you and your love no matter what.

- She reaches out to take your hand, her touch light but comforting, as she looks you in the eyes. Rogue doesn’t shy away from expressing how much you mean to her, and her words are filled with sincerity as she tells you just how deeply she loves you and wants to make things right. She’s always been fiercely loyal, and now she’s more determined than ever to prove that to you.

- When you forgive her, Rogue pulls you into a tight embrace, holding you like she never wants to let go. There’s a strength in her hug, a silent promise that she’ll never let doubt come between you again. She pulls back with a soft smile, her eyes bright and full of love, and you know that from now on, she’ll do whatever it takes to keep the bond between you strong and unbreakable.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik’s confrontation is cold, calculated, and full of barely-contained fury. He approaches you with an unyielding gaze, his tone low and laced with an intensity that makes it clear he’s already decided that you’ve betrayed him. His words are sharp, and each one feels like a dagger as he demands an explanation, his trust shattered by what he thinks you’ve done.

- When you try to explain yourself, Erik listens with a hardened expression, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. He’s always been cautious with his heart, knowing all too well the pain of betrayal, so for him to believe you’ve done this shakes him to his core. His past experiences with betrayal and loss have left deep scars, and it’s clear that this supposed act has reopened old wounds.

- Afterward, Erik distances himself, retreating into solitude as he wrestles with the pain of what he thinks has happened. He becomes colder, more withdrawn, his usual fiery passion tempered by an icy demeanor. His actions are precise and methodical, each one a way to distract himself from the hurt, but the pain is ever-present, a reminder of what he believes he’s lost.

- When the mind control is finally lifted, Erik feels a mix of fury and regret. The realization that he’s been manipulated by a villain fills him with rage, but there’s an even deeper sense of shame at having let himself believe that you could hurt him like this. He’s always prided himself on his strength and resilience, but this has left him feeling vulnerable in a way he despises.

- Erik’s apology is as intense as the rest of him. He approaches you with a quiet, almost hesitant air, his voice softened by remorse as he admits that he was wrong to doubt you. For a man as proud as Erik, admitting a mistake is not easy, and the vulnerability in his eyes speaks volumes about how much he values you and your love.

- He promises to trust you more, his words laden with a rare tenderness as he takes your hand. Erik isn’t used to apologies, but he does his best, vowing to never let anyone or anything come between you again. He’s learned a painful lesson, and he’s determined to show you just how much he cares, no matter what it takes.

- When you forgive him, Erik’s relief is subtle but profound. He pulls you into a close embrace, his touch firm yet gentle as he holds you. There’s a newfound warmth in his gaze as he looks at you, a silent vow that he’ll never let his own fears come between you again. From that moment on, he’s more protective and devoted than ever, his love for you deeper and more unbreakable.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles’ confrontation with you is calm, but there’s an unmistakable sadness in his eyes. He’s not one to leap to conclusions, but the evidence he believes he’s seen has left him deeply conflicted. His voice is gentle as he explains his suspicions, but the pain in his tone is palpable, each word carrying the weight of the trust he thinks has been broken.

- As you try to explain, Charles listens carefully, his gaze never wavering, though his expression is clouded with doubt. He’s always been a strong believer in empathy and understanding, but the thought of betrayal from someone he loves has shaken him to the core. There’s a sadness in him that’s hard to miss, and each word you speak seems to deepen the sorrow in his eyes.

- In the days that follow, Charles retreats into his own thoughts, often lost in contemplation as he tries to make sense of his emotions. He’s a compassionate man, and the idea of mistrusting someone he loves feels foreign to him. His interactions with others are quieter than usual, and there’s a noticeable tension in his usually serene demeanor.

- When the mind control finally breaks, Charles is flooded with relief and regret. Realizing that he’s been manipulated fills him with a sense of guilt, and he’s angry at himself for not seeing through the trickery. He’s a powerful telepath, but even he is not immune to the pain of betrayal, and knowing he doubted you leaves him feeling ashamed.

- Charles’ apology is heartfelt and deeply sincere. He approaches you with a gentleness that is uniquely his, his voice filled with remorse as he admits that he let his own fears cloud his judgment. He speaks from the heart, explaining how much he values your love and how he intends to trust you more deeply in the future.

- Taking your hand in his, Charles promises to never let his own insecurities or doubts come between you again. He looks at you with a tenderness that speaks volumes, his eyes filled with the quiet strength and unwavering devotion that have always defined him. He assures you that he’s learned from this experience and that he’ll always trust in the bond you share.

- When you forgive him, Charles’ relief is almost palpable. He holds you close, his embrace warm and comforting as he whispers words of gratitude and love. There’s a peace in his expression that hasn’t been there since this whole ordeal began, and you can feel the depth of his commitment to you in the way he holds you. Charles may have been hurt, but he’s come out of this with a renewed determination to cherish and protect the love you share.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- When Bobby confronts you, there’s an unusual edge to his usually playful demeanor. His blue eyes, usually filled with warmth and laughter, are clouded with hurt and disbelief. He struggles to keep his voice steady as he asks for an explanation, his usual humor replaced by a seriousness that you’ve rarely seen from him.

- Bobby tries to be logical about it, but it’s clear he’s barely holding himself together. He’s normally the fun, lighthearted one, always quick to crack a joke, but now he can barely bring himself to look at you without pain flickering across his face. There’s a heartbreaking vulnerability in the way he seems so lost, and it’s clear he’s battling with his own insecurities.

- After the confrontation, Bobby avoids you, feeling embarrassed about his emotions but too hurt to stay near. He doesn’t want his friends to see him like this, so he tries to hide his pain with a mask of indifference. He throws himself into training and missions, trying to push down the heartbreak he feels whenever he thinks about what he believes happened.

- When the mind control finally fades, Bobby feels a rush of guilt and disbelief. The realization that he’s been tricked hits him hard, and he’s furious that he doubted you. He’s known for his resilience, but the idea that he let his own insecurities and fears cloud his judgment leaves him feeling deeply ashamed.

- Bobby’s apology is genuine and filled with remorse. He approaches you with his heart on his sleeve, fumbling over his words as he tries to express just how sorry he is for not believing in you. He’s clearly nervous, but his eyes are filled with sincerity as he admits his mistakes, promising to never let anything come between you again.

- He reaches out to hold your hand, his touch soft and careful as he confesses just how much you mean to him. Bobby may be a jokester, but his apology is anything but. He pours out his feelings, his usual carefree attitude replaced with a quiet determination to make things right and prove that he’ll never doubt you again.

- When you forgive him, Bobby’s face lights up with relief and joy. He pulls you into a tight hug, laughing softly as he holds you close, promising to always trust you and to work on his insecurities. From that moment on, he’s even more devoted, making sure to show you just how much he cherishes every moment with you.

[mistymysticalmoon]

Gentle Understanding

･ jude bellingham x reader ･

prompt: (fluff/angsty) an early morning accident leaves you feeling vulnerable and embarrassed, but your boyfriend’s gentle reassurance transforms the moment into one of trust and tenderness.

warnings: talks of blood

wc: 600+

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  The light peeking through the curtain slowly pulled you from your sleep, casting a soft glow across the bedroom. The faint sounds of nature signaled the start of a new day putting a small smile on your face. 

You felt Jude stir beside you, still in a state of sleep yet pulling you closer. Your crazy schedules had lined up for once allowing the pair of you to bask in each others presence for the past few days.

As you shifted to make yourself a bit more comfortable, you felt an uncomfortable wet feeling down under.

Slowing, as not to alert your sleeping boyfriend , you push the duvet down to confirm your suspicion. You look down to see that you had been right and had spotted some blood on Jude’s bedsheets. 

You sit up slowly, embarrassment and shame washing over you at the thought of him having to witness this. 

He shifts at the loss of your warmth mumbling something incoherent as you silently panic.

“Jude..” you whispered, nervous of what he might think.

You had only been dating for a couple of months and he had been the sweetest boyfriend ever but the embarrassment was clouding your judgment, thinking the absolute worst of what his reaction might be.

“Hmm, morning love” he hummed with his eyes still closed, unaware of the internal crisis you were going through.

You moved farther up the bed, your eyes starting to glaze over. “Jude,” you say again “I’m sorry..I’m really sorry.”

Finally opening his eyes, he looks over at you seeing the look of panic and embarrassment on your face. He then looks down to see what it is that's causing you so much distress.

“Oh, baby..” he coos. 

For some reason that makes you even more emotional now sniffling and wiping your cheeks of your tears.

“I didn't know... I’m sorry” you repeat.

Jude looks at you with concern and love in his eyes. “Darling, don't apologize it’s perfectly normal. I know you didn’t mean it.” He sits upright scotting closer to you so that you're in his reach. 

He pulls you closer to his side leaving a lingering kiss on your temple.

“I’ve got it, okay baby? Just go and wash up and I’ll deal with the sheets okay?” he reassures.

You look at him hesitantly repeating your apologies. “I swear it’s just fine” He giggles lightly giving you a kiss on your cheek after wiping your tears. 

You slowly rise from the bed and rush to the bathroom, wishing the ground would just swallow you up. 

You finish washing up, changing into one of Jude’s old jerseys. You then step out into the bedroom to see the sheets removed and hear the washer running.

You walk out into the hallway making your way into the kitchen to see your boyfriend standing over the stove, shirtless, looking handsome as ever. 

He turns when he hears you padding into the space, sending you a gentle smile.

You awkwardly make your way over to him and wrap your arms around his waist, burying your head against his chest.

“Hi,” he chuckles lightly at your actions. 

You look up at him with a nervous smile. “Hi,” you whisper back.

“You hungry? I’m making your favorite!” he proclaims excitedly.

You look over to see blueberry pancakes simmering over the fire and fresh fruits cut in your favorite bowl.

 “Aww, Jude you didn't have to, really.” You insist.

“Of course I did, my baby’s not feeling well.” he retorts with a charming smile on his face. You giggle at this reaching up to give him a quick kiss.

“I really am sorry about your sheets Jude, I usually know when it’s coming I-”

“Baby” he cuts you off, “I understand, accidents happen. You never have to be embarrassed with me, okay?” 

“It’s my job to look after you, and I love it so take a seat while I serve you your breakfast.” he coos

Before you can respond he kisses you passionately, running his hands along your arms causing you to giggle a little from the ticklish sensation.

“Okay?” he asks. “Okay,” you happily respond.

[suzukiblu]

Day ten of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems that causes for someone who was in that situation and hasn’t processed it trying to have a relationship with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I mean–it’s nice,” Kon says, smiling just as helplessly into his collar and keeping his eyes on the sidewalk as they walk. “Just, you know, it’s not the kinda stuff you usually get me. Like–it’s just, you know–pretty, or whatever. It’s not for anything. Like, I can’t wear it for you and it’s not, you know, food or a game or anything.” 

Tim did not actually realize that he hadn't bought Kon anything that didn't count as “useful” yet, though given the video games and candy and jewelry he's pretty sure they just have different definitions of what “useful” actually is. Also he needs to take a moment to not burn alive over Kon saying the phrase “wear it for you” again, which definitely takes the full moment, because Jesus Christ. 

That has not gotten any less affecting, yeah. 

“Oh, I guess,” he says in his best imitation of a normal person's normal voice. “I didn't really think about that. I just thought you might like it, so I got it for you.” 

Kon somehow finds a new shade of red to turn that honestly might actually be a Kryptonian-related one, considering the intensity of it. It is, unfortunately, cute as fuck. 

“I mean, I do like buying you clothes and stuff, obviously. You look really nice in that outfit, for one,” Tim says, and Kon glances away again, still smiling helplessly and still just as red-faced. He really does blush so easy. It’s weird, Tim thinks, given how much flirting he does. But maybe Kon’s just the “can dish it out but can’t take it” type, he guesses. 

Alternately, maybe people just aren’t complimenting him as often as he deserves and he's not used to hearing it. 

. . . Tim makes a mental note to pencil in some affirmations in Young Justice’s next training session and also to buy Kon even more flowers than he was already planning to. Flowers that come with little hand-written cards that say nice things about him, specifically. 

“You better think I look nice in it, pretty boy,” Kon says, biting his lip around another grin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me all fancied up.” 

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked the crop top too,” Tim allows, and Kon bursts into laughter and then lets go of his jacket collar and just–beams at him, actually. Just–literally actually beams, brighter than anything in Gotham that doesn’t run on electricity. 

Tim manages not to step off the sidewalk into traffic by Robin-reflexes alone and literally nothing else. 

Jesus, that expression. 

“I like, uh–that,” Kon says, and then blushes a little darker again. “Um–I mean, I like that you, uh . . . like to get me stuff you think I look good in. Uh. I don’t know how to say this without it sounding weird, fuck, just–just I like it.” 

“Oh,” Tim says. The warehouse district in his brain is a lost cause; the fire has officially spread to the docks and across downtown. His mental Gotham is going the way of 1871 Chicago, he’s pretty sure. “Uh–um, good. I’m glad.” 

“It’s just, um–I dunno, it’s just nice to look nice for somebody,” Kon murmurs a little bit shyly, tugging his jacket collar up over his mouth again but still obviously smiling behind it. Tim isn’t sure if that’s a line of thought he should be concerned by after the kind of things Kon was saying earlier, if–“Instead of, you know. For everybody.” 

. . . Tim decides that actually, never mind the concern. Kon can look as good for him as he wants to, if what Kon’s used to is being stuck having to look good for some stupid ad campaign or magazine shoot or what the frick ever. And like–it’s not like he has a problem with Kon wanting to wear things he thinks he’ll like. That is pretty much the opposite of a problem for him, in fact. 

It probably explains the makeup, too. There were definitely not any ad campaigns with glitter eyeliner or nail polish involved. 

. . . not that Tim’s seen all the ad campaigns or anything, just–

Alright, fine, he’s seen all the ad campaigns. That’s just Bat SOP, alright? And definitely only Bat SOP.

[planetpedri]

hey girly please can you do one with marc bernal where he’s super clingy after his injury and he just wants to be babied, tysm xxx

Generous heart — Marc bernal.

Pairing: Marc Bernal x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend had never been a clingy person, but it seems this injury had changed him more than you thought.

Word count: 560+

Disclaimer/s: Acl injury, pain, light angst to comfort. mostly fluff though !

A/N: When do the injuries end UGHHH. Come back soon diva

Marc’s parents had been allowing you to stay over for the night more and more. Ever since his injury, they had claimed he’d been more down than usual, but whenever you came around, suddenly his spirits were lifted and he felt.. well, the closest thing to normal someone could with the injuries he’d sustained.

While sitting up in his bed, Marc uncomfortably moved around. At some points he’d wince in pain, trying to disguise his discomfort by looking to the side. Each time you’d remind him that he needed to verbally tell you if something was hurting, rather than pretending it wasn’t there.

So, you’d convinced him to just lay down, which he did, but not without pulling you down with him. A soft laugh escaped your lips as he tugged on your arm.

“Lay down with me.” He huffs, looking up at you with a forced scowl.

“Chillax, i’m going to!” You grin, slowly inching yourself from a sitting position down to a lying one. The second you were flat against his bed, he pulled you closer, using his right arm to slip under your head.

Once he was satisfied with the position, your head resting on his shoulder, he bent his head down to place a kiss to the top of your head.

You smile at the gesture before unlocking your phone and opening TikTok, scrolling mindlessly through the videos as Marc watched with you.

Thats how most of your days and nights spent together went. He would have you cuddle with him and watch whatever you had on your phone. In fact, he’d prefer you nearly laying on top of him on your phone, than you giving him space and sitting beside him.

Marc was never this.. cuddly before. You weren’t complaining, though. Just to make that clear. You loved it, in fact. But, it was new, and each time you couldn’t help but smile the whole time. You liked this part of him, the one you hadn’t seen much until recently.

“Wait!” He suddenly says, making your eyes widen and shoot up to him, “I wasn’t done with that video, scroll up.”

Letting out a long breath, you huff. “Holy shit, you scared me!”

A guilty look passes across his face, “sorry..” He says sheepishly, “just scroll up, please?”

Nodding, you scroll back to the last video. “Let me know when I can continue.” You chuckle.

“Will do.” He hums, “hey, wait.”

Groaning, you pause the video. “Yes?” You meet his gaze once again and you’re met with a smug smirk. Great.

“A kiss would do.”

Oh this little…

Rolling your eyes, you tilt your head back to grant him access to your lips. He takes the chance, using his free hand to place his thumb and index finger on your chin, tilting your head up a little further. You don’t think you’d ever get used to his kisses, they were always so gentle and meaningful and perfect…

Sighing into the kiss, your eyes flutter shut. “Anything else you need? You big baby.” You murmur against his lips, feeling the smile that forms on his.

“I am a little hungry..” He pulls away, cocking his head to the side. “Takeout?”

“Or we could get off our asses and go make some real food.” You suggest, but exit TikTok to open google. “What do you want?”

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any future marc related posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[madlori]

Facebook Official

whoops my hand slipped and I banged out 1800 words of fix-it fic in like an hour. btw i think the Abby connection is dumb but I'm making it work.

Three years after reconciling with Buck, newly engaged to him, Tommy gets a phone call from a certain former dispatcher...who's just seen some interesting news via a Facebook Relationship Status post.

*****

(also on AO3)

To say that the phone call blindsided him would have been the understatement of the century.

He was just sitting at home watching the game, having a beer, minding his own business. Evan was on shift — must be a busy one, he’d only gotten two text messages all evening, one bitching about not having had time to eat dinner and the other about idiots who texted while driving.

His phone rang. Unknown number. Normally he wouldn’t have picked up, but with all the wedding preparations, a lot of vendors were calling. It was a little late to be making business calls, just after 8 pm, but he’d quickly learned that business norms meant little in the wedding planning business. “Hello?”

“Tommy?”

“Yes?” A woman’s voice. Familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Pause “You’re marrying Buck??” A slightly hysterical note of disbelief entered the woman’s voice as she said the name.

And all at once, he knew who it was. Shit fuck motherfucker why didn’t we get ahead of this one.

“Abby. Um…”

“Evan Buckley? My ex-fiancé and my ex-boyfriend are marrying each other?”

“Small world, huh?” he said, going for levity.

“Buck’s not even gay!”

“No, he’s not. He’s bisexual.”

“I’m…okay. I’m sorry, it’s just…this is a lot of information to get all at once.”

“How did you even find out? Don’t you live in Phoenix?”

“Buck posted one of those relationship status things on Facebook.”

“Oh. I barely use Facebook.”

“Me either, but Buck does, and I hadn’t been on there in awhile, but I logged on and that was like the third post I saw!”

Tommy remembered the day Buck had made the post. They hadn’t really put their relationship on social media much - Buck posted photos of them on Instagram sometimes - and he hadn’t done one of those stupid relationship status things for them until they got engaged. They’d trawled their phones for the right pic, eventually settling on one taken at a 118 barbecue of them together, smiling, arms slung around waists. He hadn’t said so, but he’d gotten a little emotional over what Evan wrote on the post:

Evan Buckley is engaged to Tommy Kinard.

“It’s been a long road, but we made it. Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with this man. He’s the best person I’ve ever known. I love you!”

“Well…I’m sorry that was an unpleasant surprise for you,” Tommy said, carefully.

She sighed. “I don’t know that it was…unpleasant. But a surprise, for sure. How do you even know Buck? How did you meet?”

“We’re both firefighters, it’s not that surprising that we could have met, is it?”

“No, I guess not.”

“And he was at my old firehouse. The one you refused to ever come to. But I guess you went when you were with him, didn’t you?”

“You never wanted me to meet your friends. I guess I found out why when you broke off our engagement.”

“I’m sorry, Abby. I know I said it then, but I’ll say it again now. I lied to myself, I lied to a lot of people. It took me almost trapping you in my lie, when you did not deserve that, to break me out of it.”

“I forgave you ages ago. We don’t have to go over all that again.”

“I met Evan…I guess it’s four years ago? We started dating not long after. I, um…was the first man he dated. I guess I made him realize some things about himself.”

“Just transforming lives everywhere you go, huh?” she said, a teasing note entering her voice. Tommy was happy to hear it.

“Yeah, well, I almost screwed it up. I broke up with him six months later. He was diving in headfirst, too fast, just all in and wanting to move in with me.”

“That sounds just like Buck.”

“I panicked and ended it before I could get in any deeper with him.”

“It was too late, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. I was already in love with him.”

“He’s easy to love. Too easy,” she said, quietly. “But you got back together, obviously.”

“Took a little while. Almost a year. I dated a few guys, he dated a few people, but nothing stuck for either of us - I know now it’s because we were still hung up on each other. We have a friend in common and we’d hear about each other through him…but I didn’t really see him until we ended up on a major incident call together. I sustained a minor injury - just a scrape, really - and Hen from his house patched me up. I was sitting there on the ambulance deck, more or less left to myself, and he came waltzing up with that eyebrow raised like he knew all my secrets.” Abby chuckled, like she knew the exact expression he was describing. “He just said, are you done being fucking stupid yet?”

“And you were.”

“Yep. I was. He took me home that night and we’ve barely been apart since. Got engaged a year later.”

“You sound happy.”

“I am. I’m ecstatic. I can’t believe I got a second chance with him. I kicked myself for ending it like that, I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do. You thought you weren’t enough for him to want to keep you.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s dumb.”

“That’s what he says.”

They sat there not speaking for what felt like a long time.

“Well…” Abby said. “I feel like I just unloaded on you out of the blue.”

“You kinda did,” he said, smiling.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

“I’m glad you did. You know…Evan and I didn’t realize we had you in common until our six month anniversary dinner. In fact, it was that revelation that sort of started us on the way to breaking up for awhile. But that’s been so long now and it hasn’t come up in a few years. I almost forgot about it.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said, her grin audible. “I’m glad you’re both happy. I have a lot of regret over Buck, how I left things with him. I assume he’s told you.”

“He has. If it helps, he doesn’t have any bad feelings towards you.”

“It does help. Thank you for that.” She sighed. “I’ll let you go. I just saw that Facebook post and spiralled a little bit.”

“Understandable.”

“Please tell Buck I say hello. And I wish you both so much happiness, Tommy.”

“Thank you. And I will.”

She hung up. Tommy stared at the phone for a moment, then opened his text message thread with Evan.

You’re not gonna believe what just happened.

*****

When Evan got home at 7 am, they had their usual two hours to share breakfast and maybe a quick fuck before Tommy had to be on shift himself. They tried to sync their schedules so their off days coincided, but it didn’t always work.

“Holy shit, why didn’t we get ahead of that one?” Evan said as he burst in the door, not even bothering with “hello.” His shoes and duffel went flying and he bustled into the kitchen where Tommy was mixing the pancake batter.

“Yeah, I had the same thought,” he said, leaning over to kiss him hello.

Evan went to the coffee pot. “I didn’t even think about it, that she might see.”

“Neither did I.”

“How’d she sound?”

“Really surprised at first. Incredulous, even? Like in the what-are-the-odds way.”

“Kinda like when I found out we’d both dated her.”

“Yeah, but you’re my himbo now,” Tommy said, smirking. “No, she was just shocked. I gave her the quick rundown, and she ended up congratulating us.”

“Did you tell her it’s her fault we broke up for a year?” Evan said, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

“I think the proper person to bear the fault is me.”

“And also me. Who asks someone to move in after six months? Before even saying ‘I love you?’ And when you had a house!”

“I say we blame Josh. He got you all juiced up with that damn Glee speech.” After they’d reconciled, Evan had given him chapter and verse on his mind-boggling thought processes on that last fateful day.

“He got me feeling guilty, is what he did. That I judged you for lying to Abby. Overcorrecting is one of my special gifts.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, while I’m overcorrecting…why don’t we invite her?”

Tommy looked up. “To our wedding?”

“Sure, why not? She can flip a coin whose side she sits on,” Evan said, grinning like the mischievous imp that he was.

“Evan, darling, love of my life, we are not inviting our ex to our wedding.”

He scrunched up his face. “Ew. ‘Our’ ex? Makes it sound like we were in a throuple.”

“Ew, indeed.”

He cocked his head. “I dunno, though. The thought’s kinda sexy.”

“Not to me! No vaginas anywhere near my bedroom. Kinsey 6, remember?”

“Of course, my apologies.”

Tommy looked at his innocent wide-eyed face for a few beats. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Can I help it if the thought of two people I have found intensely attractive doing sexy things is appealing?”

“Can I help it if the thought of Chris Hemsworth going down on you has gotten me through some lonely nights?”

“Okay, I get the point. Shutting up now.” 

Tommy put a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Your shift okay?”

“Fine. Busy. I’m a bit wired. Do we have time for me to bounce on your dick for a bit before you have to head out?”

“For that, I’ll make time.” He sat down at the table at Evan’s side with his own pancakes. Evan slid a hand over and squeezed his thigh.

“Missed you, though,” he said, chewing.

“I always miss you when you’re on shift,” Tommy said.

Evan looked up at that, meeting his eyes. “Tommy, sometimes I miss you when you get up to get a beer.”

The simplicity, the sincerity of it made his chest tighten a little. He leaned forward, put his fingers under Evan’s chin and pulled him into a soft kiss, just like the first time. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too.”

“And we are not inviting my ex-fiancee who is also your ex-girlfriend to our wedding.”

Evan grinned. “Deal.”

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

SVT with a bipolar partner

Requested? No! (But they are still open!)

Genre: comfort, some unavoidable angst, suggestive (MDNI)

Sensitive Topics Ahead!

TW/CW: discussions of struggling with and managing bipolar symptoms, up to and including things like self-harm (though this is not explicitly discussed). One suggestive section. 

A/N: This one is also entirely self-indulgent because I’m feeling some type of way right now.

If this topic might be triggering for you, please proceed with caution or skip. If you’re struggling (not just with bipolar, but with anything), I encourage you to reach out for help. Could be a friend, a family member, a coworker or classmate, or a professional. Things like this should not be shameful!! Be kind to yourself, love you. 

Seungcheol

You desperately want to buy an item and Seungcheol knows it. So he casually hands you his credit card (he’ll never be able to stop the sugar daddy allegations, I fear). He’s kind of surprised by how vehemently you deny it. ‘No way, I don’t want to waste your money,’ you’ll say and he’ll roll his eyes. “Baby, I have more than enough, I’ll buy you whatever you want.” The relationship is still somewhat new, so he’s confused when you deny it again, saying you absolutely can’t take his card because you’ll be reckless with it. Does not understand what the problem is with that, honestly, but when you eventually tell him about your diagnosis and particularly how mania works, he’ll pause, if only because of how upset you seem by the topic. It’s fine. If you spending the money is the problem, he’ll spend it for you and he won’t let you feel guilty about it for a single second. 

Jeonghan

Now, I believe Hannie can be a bit of a fashionista. He likes your style. In fact, it was something that attracted him to you in the beginning because it was unique and unapologetic. So when you’re getting ready for a date, he’s confused when you don’t put on the things that you usually do, opting for a baggy sweater and leggings. “Feeling okay?” He’ll ask. “You’re cute as always, but this isn’t your normal look.” You’ll openly tell him that you feel less confident during a depressive episode because the two of you simply do not have secrets, so this is what you want to go with today. You get out of the way, letting him get ready, and you’re kind of surprised when he comes out in equally baggy clothes. He’ll absolutely match your energy, no matter what that means. 

Joshua

He raises an eyebrow when he comes home to find you scrubbing the walls down. “A little spring cleaning?” He’ll ask, but it becomes apparent that it’s not anything ‘little’. The house is absolutely sparkling like you just moved in. This isn’t a problem by any means, but it’s kind of suspicious because you low key hate cleaning and he happily carries the burden of these types of things on a normal day. Still, he knows what’s happening and there’s nothing he can do to stop the manic episode. He’ll just have to let you ride it out. But it won’t stop him from changing clothes and asking what’s next on your list so he can help. 

Jun

Knows he can’t do a whole lot about the typical mood swings that you have periodically, but when you tell him that some of these mood swings are not totally random and can actually be triggered, he becomes the most observant person you’ve ever met. Keeps a little list in his notes app of things that you’ve mentioned before and the things that he’s simply observed that switch your mood. He tries to help you manage your stress at work to prevent a depressive episode and encourages you to limit your caffeine intake to prevent mania. He intentionally stops buying alcohol and keeping it in the house because it’s not a good combination with your medications. He buys you a light for light therapy during the winter when the seasonal depression kicks in. He helps you find a nighttime routine that works for you so sleep disturbances aren’t so prominent. Really is the sweetest and most thoughtful.

Hoshi

Man, thinking about this one makes me emotional. Say the relationship is new, but it’s been so, so good. You match his energy so well and he really feels like you get him, you know? So he’s kind of surprised when his calls and texts go unanswered for a while. After a few days, he finally goes to your apartment, flowers, coffee, and a bag of pastries in hand just in case he did something wrong. Your roommate answers the door and points to your bedroom with an ominous warning. You look like you haven’t moved from the bed in a few days. Your clothes and sheets are wrinkled, laundry is overflowing from the hamper, and dishes are piled up on your bedside table. You come right out and tell him about your diagnosis and that you’ve been in a depressive episode, and that you’d understand if he wants to break up. He simply crawls into bed with you because it’s his turn to get you. 

Wonwoo

Listen, I genuinely believe that you can tell him anything. Quite literally anything, including when you’re having some bad thoughts. He gives you an intentionally blank look when you ask him to remove the razors from the bathroom, but immediately does it. He doesn’t ask questions when he comes back, just hugging you tight and thanking you for telling him. Trust that he’ll watch you like a hawk over the next few days, doing soft, yet somehow non-invasive check-ins. A week later when that particular feeling passes and you ask for the razors again to shave, he does ask a few questions, just to make sure you’re in a good headspace. It makes you feel secure that you have someone right there that will help you if you have to cry for help.

Woozi

He’s pretty independent and so are you, but after you tell him about your diagnosis and the medications you’re on, he becomes a bit clingy. Let me explain. Before, you could go hours, maybe even days without really hearing from him when he got busy. No big deal, you knew that was just part of it. Now, no matter what he’s doing at work or whatever timezone he might be in, he’s calling you before you go to bed to make sure you’ve taken your medication. He’ll, of course, be there to talk if you want, but you usually don’t and that’s thanks to how much the medication is doing for you. He will never, ever let you miss a day. 

DK

You know you’re in a manic episode, which is why you jumped at the chance to go out with Seokmin and a few of his members for dinner. You’re feeling good, talking rapidly and animatedly about something and Seungkwan laughs, saying something along the lines of, “Okay, motor mouth.” It kind of makes you deflate. Not that he meant anything by it, not that he knew about your diagnosis or that you were in a manic episode. Still, Seokmin is next to you, encouraging you to continue talking because he was following, no problem. He’ll always be a motor mouth with you. Even if your mood doesn’t come back as high as it was before, it’s still comforting that he’ll listen to you ramble about whatever comes to mind, even if it’s sometimes a stream of consciousness more than anything specific. 

Mingyu

It’s not like sex is uncommon in your relationship, but after you initiate multiple rounds in one night, Mingyu will sort of laugh and ask what’s gotten into you. When you stop and kind of tear up, he realizes he might have said something wrong and he’s holding onto you immediately. You tell him you’re kind of upset because you didn’t realize that you were manic until he said that. Increased libido is a common symptom for you and now you’re feeling bad for maybe pressuring him into it. He’ll squish your face and insist that you absolutely did not and he has no complaints. You can always come to him for this, or for anything for that matter. 

Minghao

Now, I think he might be a bit of a believer in home remedies for a lot of things, but not for this. Does not let you miss a counseling or psychiatrist appointment. Does not let you forget your medication. Knows by heart everything you’re taking, including the dosage. He even gets a little organizer and sorts it out for you every week. Insists that you stick to a routine and practice self-care when you’re in a manic episode and makes sure you eat, sleep, and find things to enjoy during a depressive episode. Really, genuinely might understand your disorder and what you need for it better than you do. 

Seungkwan

He knows you’ve been down and that’s just the nature of the disorder sometimes. He does little things to help you manage it - chores are taken care of, dinner is already started, medication is already picked up from the pharmacy, etc. But when you admit late at night that you don’t know why he’s with you and you feel worthless, he doesn’t have a little reaction. It makes you cry despite how numb you were feeling earlier when he squishes your face with a bit more aggression than he probably intended and in great detail tells you how much he loves you and what he loves about you and why no one else will ever compare. It’s what you needed to hear, and he makes a mental note to be more vocal about these things, particularly when you’re down. 

Vernon

You two are relaxing at home when you ask him if he can hear that sound. He’ll say no, feeling kind of clueless. You’ll frown and ask, “Are you sure? It’s so loud.” Your insistence makes him pause. “Tell me about it,” he’ll say. You’ll describe it in great detail, convincing him that you do in fact believe you’re hearing something. Will not let you feel bad about the fact that he doesn’t hear it and that it must be an auditory hallucination. He’s offering you his noise cancelling headphones to blast some music and drown out the sound until it goes away. 

Chan

You’re usually pretty easy going and agreeable. But Chan knows something is up because you’ve been picking fights left and right all day. First it was that he left a mug on the side of the sink instead of in the sink or inside the dishwasher. Okay, easy to fix next time, he thinks. Then it’s that he’s going out for lunch with a couple of his members, even though he told you yesterday, which leaves him confused. Then it’s that he didn’t appear to be listening to you when you talked at dinner. He was absolutely listening, but the way you huff angrily at him makes him approach, holding your face and asking what’s going on with you today. He won’t let you escalate this into a fight, and eventually you deflate, tearing up. You admit you’ve just been feeling restless, both physically and emotionally, and that you don’t think this new medication is doing much. He cuddles with you the rest of the night, shushing you when you say you don’t deserve it after picking fights all day, and encourages you to make an appointment to talk about your medication.

[cherubimcore]

pairing: alastor x reader

author's notes: sorry for the long wait 😭 college hates me and i started a new internship and i don't even have time to think about writing... but i finished another chapter, i don't know if it's good but i hope you like it, hopefully the next one is longer but i can't make any promises ;)

part 1

“what’s wrong?” charlie asked with a worried tone.

“nothing you have to concern your little head about it” alastor forced a smile, he knew none of them would believe him but he needed a couple hours alone to think about the letter “now… if there’s nothing more to be said, i will be going”

and before any of them could ask more questions alastor blended into the shadows and transported himself to his room in the hotel.

letting his smile drop a little he sat on his bed and stared at the letter in his hands.

why were they doing this to him?

sure, he’s not exactly the best person out there but he at least tried to be somewhat civil, between helping charlie with this excuse of a hotel and trying to not infringe on the terms of the deal he made long ago.

but this… this put everything he spent the last decades building in jeopardy.

if alastor could he would simply tear this letter apart and burn it, never thinking about those words again.

the demon stepped in front of his fireplace with the letter in hands ready to ignore and completely forget about it, but the tight grip on his hands didn’t let the letter fall in the flames.

he couldn’t.

after staring at the letter for what felt like hours, alastor finally set it aside. he could see the angels’ game as clear as day: they were setting him up to fail, counting on his nature to make it impossible for anyone, much less a human, to see him as anything more than a monster

and with that he was setting the hotel to fail spectacularly and that certainly wasn’t his deal with lilith all those years before.

that’s why she sent him the letter.

threatening everything he had accomplished with her help, either alastor likes to admit it or not.

but alastor was nothing if not stubborn, he wouldn’t let this stupid joke from heaven and lilith destroy everything for him, and, as much as he hates to admit, for charlie as well, and he wasn’t about to play the angels’ little game without a twist of his own.

after alastor’s initial attempts to charm you—mostly involving unsettling gifts, eerie glances, and his “radio smile” lingering far too long—he began to realize that his usual tactics weren't working. he’d appear in mirrors, whisper eerie compliments from dark corners, and once even serenaded you with a distorted, old-timey song that left you rattled. and yet, instead of getting closer, you were pulling away, more suspicious than ever.

seeing his frustration, the crew decided to intervene.

“look, al,” angel dust said one afternoon as he watched alastor pace around the lobby. “you can’t just be creepy and expect a girl to swoon. romance isn’t about lurking around like some horror movie villain.”

alastor frowned, his smile flickering. “romance isn’t exactly my expertise,” he admitted, crossing his arms. “but I was certain that she’d appreciate a little…mystique.”

“maybe tone down the ‘i’m watching you from the shadows’ vibe,” charlie suggested gently. “why don’t you just…be there for her? show up, help her out, maybe smile a little less, um…serial-killer-y?”

husk snorted, shaking his head. “yeah, or just act like a normal person for once. no haunting, no creeping.”

alastor grimaced, but, reluctantly, he took their advice. the next time he appeared, it was during the day, while you were organizing books on the shelf. he simply knocked on the door—a sharp, polite rap that startled you. when you turned, he was standing there with an unreadable expression, his hands behind his back.

“good afternoon,” he said, his voice smooth, though still holding that eerie undertone. “i thought perhaps I could assist you…if you’d allow.”

you looked at him with a puzzled expression, was he joking? after almost scaring you to death all those days and making you actually consider moving out of the very nice house you didn’t actually pay rent to now being polite as if he’s a sort of roomate of yours wanting to make peace after an argument?

you scoffed but still allowed him to help, at least he could make himself useful after everything.

“so…” you said after a while, still side-eyeing him, expecting your ghostly intruder to do something suspicious “what are you exactly?”

alastor stopped on his tracks, still with a book on his hands halfway through to be put on the shelf.

“well, me dear” you noticed the static on voice had toned down significantly after your first encounters “i am a demon”

“a demon, huh” you squinted, why the hell didn’t your grandmother tell you she had a freaking demon living in her house? “do you have a name, demon?”

alastor’s smile faltered a little, back in hell he would never let anyone talk to him like this, but here he was swallowing the harsh words he wanted to say at the cost of his life... or even better not-life.

“no name?” you insisted, making him wake up from his daydream.

“the name’s alastor” the deer-man turned towards you, the pile of books on his hand gone and the room feeling less like a mess “and what is your name?”

“you are haunting me and don't even know my name?” you crossed your arms on your chest, laughing at the idea.

alastor opened his mouth to send a snarky remark in your direction but you were faster.

“my name is (y/n)... (y/n) (y/l/n)”

after you introduced yourself, alastor’s expression flickered briefly, he had heard your name before he was sure he had but why couldn’t he place it from where? it’s not usual for alastor to forget things like this, he made a mental note to talk to charlie about it, maybe she would know.

“well, (y/n), i must say,” alastor began “it’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance properly.” he extended a hand in an oddly formal gesture, as if you were meeting at a tea party rather than dealing with an uninvited demon in your grandmother’s home.

despite yourself, you almost felt a pang of amusement at his attempt at chivalry, and with a smirk, you took his hand. his touch was cool, yet strangely grounding. but the moment you released his hand, that unnerving cheshire grin of his was back.

“now that we’re formally introduced,” he said, leaning in with an amused gleam in his eye, “perhaps you’ll stop looking at me like a poltergeist?”

“maybe if you stop acting like one,” you countered, rolling your eyes but finding yourself oddly charmed by his persistence.

taglist: @vxllys

[freyito]

ʜᴀɴᴋᴇʀɪɴ' ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ

✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader

✩ in which: boothill's been quiet since he came back from penacony. way too quiet.

✧ a/n: little by little im chipping away at my depressive episode and building my motivation again

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, 2.6 spoilers, mention of torture, hurt/comfort, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.4k

Ever since his most recent trip to Penacony, Boothill had been spacing out more when he got home. He insisted, very firmly, that you stay at home this time, leaving no room for any discussion. You were to stay home no matter what, and if he found you had tried to sneak out, even to the town, there would be words to be had. He was never this demanding, and he never barred you from going out. Yet when he told you, there was a certain look in his eyes. Fear. Something so rare within him that it made you obey without a word of protest. Now that he is back, he hasn’t been as energetic as you’re used to. In fact, he had practically stayed glued to the couch. 

You could poke and prod at him and he wouldn’t so much as smirk, and you hadn’t even gotten so much of a squeak out of him aside from why he had left in the first place. Despite his victory, he was just… quiet. You wake up to him staring at the ceiling, chewing on his lip. Even though he doesn’t necessarily need sleep, he’s always cuddling up to you when you go to sleep. So when you wake up next to him (quite a rare sight), it’s odd.

Not just that, but you notice he spends an oddly long time gazing out over the plains that surround your house, nearly unphased when you poke and squeeze at his cheeks. It’s not that he is entirely silent the whole time, but his words are few and far between. You can’t remember the last time he’d been so lost in thought.

After the third day, you’ve decided you’ve had enough. It was fine if he didn’t want to talk about it (though you are certain it would help), but you were starting to miss Boothill’s voice, or the silly things he would do. So, you catch him on the couch while he’s charging, deciding to lay on top of him. Cheek to cheek, you press into him with a smile.

“Hi,” You say simply. Boothill doesn’t react much, looking up at you with his eye and a small grin.

“Hey, darlin’,” He responds, his voice quiet.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

“Mh, nothin’,” Boothill sighs, shifting awkwardly just a little beneath you. You raise your eyebrow, and he sighs, admitting defeat so easily. “Okay. Thinkin’ about a lot.”

“Care to share?”

“I dunno sugar, it’s kinda heavy,”

“Heavy is the cost.”

A silence stretches between the two of you, as Boothill ruminates over whether or not to share what’s on his mind. You lean further into him, draping yourself over him like a blanket, even though he wasn’t necessarily the most comfortable person to lay on. You weren’t going to say it out loud, and you have spent hours on him before, so it wasn’t necessarily a problem. There were days where his body was the most wonderful thing to lay on, when he had been lounging in the sun and you had been unbearably cold for Aeons knows what reason. In moments like those, he was like your own space heater.

“Well, I mean, there was a lot goin’ on in Penacony, and all these mind games, and…” Boothill sighs, his body relaxing slightly as he pulls an arm out from under you and slings it over your waist. “Got to rememberin’ a lot of things. Stuff I ain’t exactly keen on thinkin’ about. Now I can’t stop.”

“Do you think telling me about it would help?” You purse your lips, blinking at him inquisitively. 

“Haven’t I yapped enough? I swear you ask me about all o’ this at least once a week,” He pokes at your side, causing you to squirm and yelp, before he takes hold of your waist and readjusts both of you, so he’s sitting up and cradling you in his lap. “Gonna make me talk til my jaw falls off, you know that?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, darlin’,” Boothill smiles, something gentle despite his normally cocky grin. “I know you mean well. You’re the only one I like talkin’ to about this stuff, anyways.”

You tilt your head, silently asking him to continue. For a moment he doesn’t get the hint, raising his brow and chewing on his lip. He’s always been avoidant of such topics like the past, not that you could squeeze much out of him regardless. The most he let you know was of his family, specifically why he held a grudge against the IPC, and who he held a grudge against. Not to mention, he doesn’t enjoy talking things out much. He enjoys venting whatever’s gnawing at him in other ways, such as shooting. Still, he always seems to relent when you ask…

“Ah! Uhm, well…” He wraps both his arms around you, finally sitting up. He readjusts, making sure you’re seated comfortably in his lap. “They got me thinkin’ about when I was a kid… Well, more than that, really. Hard to explain.”

“I can listen all day. I like your voice.” You reply smugly.

“I– That’s not what I meant…” He chuckles sheepishly, shaking his head. “It was like a… hm. Felt like the kind of stuff the IPC had done to me when they caught me.”

Suddenly, you don’t know how to react. Your flirty demeanor drops, and so does your smile. Part of you didn’t think it’d be this kind of conversation. While he said it was heavy, you really didn’t think it’d be on the same level. Boothill sighs, patting your back lightly at your reaction.

“It ain’t that bad. I’m back home now, right? All in one piece.” He consoles, his voice just a tinge softer than before.

“Yeah, but–”

“It didn’t do much to me, really. Just got me thinkin’,” He shrugs so nonchalantly, like torture is something he’s used  to. “You asked, right? Lemme continue.”

With a huff, you concede. He strokes through your hair leisurely at your complacence, taking another moment to enjoy the quiet moment. As if what he was about to explain wasn’t something as terrifying as torture.

“It was somethin’ goin’ on with Dr. Primitive. Or at least, someone who aspired to be like him. Really odd thing, actually. With these monkeys and bananas, people wanted to become one. People were becoming one. Freaky, really. I mean, the things were cute n’ all… Not the point.” He takes a deep breath, “Some sort of induction… they… I don’t know how they did it, but they were able to bring back some sort of past version of me…? Took almost everything from me, voice, hearing, colors, sight, anger… they took it all. And suddenly, I felt like I was a kid again.”

The silence continues, while you ponder if anything you’ll say will be right, or okay. There’s not much you can think of to say, without sounding out of place. Dr. Primitive was one thing, and something horrifying at that, but the monkeys threw you off. Furthermore, what Boothill had described made your body feel… cold. It felt like it was one step away from wiping his memory completely. 

“What’s with that look?” He chuckles, shaking off the heavy air so easily. “You asked me to tell you, right?”

“Yeah…” You sigh. It’s still quite hard to wrap your mind around such things, but you do your best to ignore it.

“Now you sound all sad. C’mon, I’m alive, ain’t I? Plus, I think I do feel a little better now that I think about it…”

His voice tapers off at the end, before pursing his lips as if he was thinking. Again. Before you can ask him what else he’s got on his mind, his eyes light up. Without so much as a grunt, he picks you up and sets you down on the floor. 

“Here, actually, I think I’ve figured out somethin’,” He says, placing a hand on the small of your back as he leads you to the front door. He makes no further effort to explain what he meant, simply choosing to lead you off with a smile.

As he opens the door, light spills into the cabin. The land looks practically golden, you’ve forgotten just how beautiful the plains are at sunset. When you two step out on the porch, a light breeze greets you, wading through the grass. Boothill lets out another chuckle, before stepping off the porch. He stands still for a moment, appreciating the art of the world, the way the wind whispered across the grass, the birds in the distance and their song, and finally, he lets out a content sigh.

“Can’t say it’s as beautiful as Aeragan-Epharshel, but…” He begins, looking back at you for a moment, waving you closer. “It’s close enough…”

“What do you mean?” You finally take a step down off the porch. He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer with an even bigger smile.

“All that work they did, well it gave me a hankerin’ for the past,” He takes a deep breath, his voice wavering ever so slightly. “Don’t like thinkin’ about it too much cause then I miss it even more.”

He cocks his head down at you, before his hand slides from your waist to your own, interlocking fingers. They’re not cold, for once, about body temperature. Perhaps that’s what you get for laying on top of him. He starts to lead you through the grass, his other hand gliding over the soft blades, sometimes grabbing at one just for the fun of it. However, there’s a certain sadness pulling at his face, his stride, even. He’s quiet for another minute, before he stops.

“It’s odd only feelin’ the wind in my hair.” He states, allowing nature to fill the silence once more.

“Boothill…” You mutter, reluctantly wiggling your hand out of his, reaching up to cup his cheek instead.

“It’s okay, sugar, I don’t need any pity,” Despite his words, he leans into your touch so easily, eyes fluttering closed. “Just… expressin’ myself.” After a beat, he opens his eyes and looks back out on the landscape, sighing softly. “I miss all the mischief I’d get into. After I’d finished my work on the ranch, I’d… run off somewhere, mostly off to the town. I’d get into all sorts of trouble just to keep myself from gettin’ bored. So I could get a chance to run through the fields again.”

He turns to you with a somber look in his eyes, as if he’d tear up. Not that he could, he’d lost that function long ago. His hands fall to your waist, gripping gently at the fabric of your shirt.

“There’s nothin’ quite like that feelin’. Runnin’ through the fields, the wind in your hair, stingin’ your cheeks and fingers, heart beatin’ fast as you find somewhere to hide…” He continues. Again, his voice wavers, and he swallows. He does his best to hold off on his own sadness, something he hadn’t allowed himself to properly feel for Aeons knows how long. “I guess I sorta get it still… bein’ wanted ‘n’ all… but it ain’t the same. It ain’t never been the same since…”

He ducks his head, the wind causing his hair to obscure his face. His hat dips, and you raise your hand to catch it. You don’t know what else to do. You haven’t seen Boothill this sad, ever. He’s always so rowdy and practically radiant, and yet now he’s dour, forcing himself to get his words through. He sniffles, then lets out a choked sound that goes straight to your heart. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him in close and squishing your face against his chest. The minute your arms meet his body, he mirrors the gesture. He practically crumbles in your arms, knees buckling as if he were flesh and bone, sliding down in your arms until his knees are planted firmly in the ground beneath you. In turn he presses his ear to your chest, listening to the gentle sound of your beating heart. At this, he grasps your shirt so tightly, pulling you impossibly closer, letting out another whine.

You pet through his hair, doing your best to still your own thoughts. Not only have you never seen Boothill sad before, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so… weak. Especially on the topic of his past. He could always speak of Clementine, of Nick and Gray, even of his hatred for the IPC with such confidence. Never once did his voice break, did his scowl turn into a frown. His body is wracked with shudders, biting his lip to quiet his sobs.

You two stay like that for a couple of more minutes, Boothill clinging onto you for dear life while you did your best to comfort him, scratching at his scalp and shushing him gently, whispering all sorts of cliche things to calm him down. Eventually, he finally lets up, with a soft breath. His grip weakens on your clothes, and he stands up. When he does, you card your fingers through his hair, moving his bangs from his face. He can’t help but let out a weak chuckle, allowing you to enjoy the feeling.

“M’sorry honey,” He mutters, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Didn’t mean to get all gloomy like that.”

“It’s fine, really,” You smile, your fingers lingering in his hair, before pulling away. “I think you needed it.”

“I… probably,” He sighs, “Just got too caught up in… all of this.”

Still, he nudges you, hand finding yours once more. He squeezes it, before leading you back to the cabin. The wind started to bite, the sun just peaking over the horizon as the sky went from orange and pink, to pink and purple. The clouds waned, the stars just barely visible as you two walked back. The silence is comfortable now, a small smile tugging at Boothill’s lips. He opens the door for you, taking one last look at the plains, before stepping in and closing the door.

“I’ll make dinner, then,” He says triumphantly, clearly feeling lighter than before. “As an apology. For makin’ you see me like that.”

“You don’t have t–”

“I want to, sugar. Let me? Please?” He cocks his head to the side, his smile turning gentler.

You wouldn’t fight it, either way. Despite how much he’s enjoyed literal bullets and oil, you wouldn’t dare stop him from cooking. He was like an angel, really, almost terrifyingly good in the kitchen. While you wanted to say that he didn’t have to apologize, if his cooking was on the line, you’ve found no choice but to concede.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[muqingfx]

can you write mu qing being nursed back to health against his wishes please. he would never admit it even if it meant dying (cough.. mt tonglu lava scene.. cough) so it's what he deserves

anon didnt specify for ships, so i did what any normal person would do. four of them. whether its platonic or romantic is totally up to you!

"Let. Me," Mu Qing struggles against Xie Lian's vice-like grip with gritted teeth "go." He swings his fist to land a blow on his friend's jaw in an attempt to break free, but his punch is deterred by yet another nuisance.

“Feng Xin,” Mu Qing hisses, vision still blurry. If it weren't for Xie Lian’s hold on him, Mu Qing would have shamefully collapsed head-first into the dirt.

“Mu Qing,” he hears Xie Lian say softly, “you just need some rest.”

“You don't get to strangle me!” Mu Qing retaliates, kicking and screaming like a child.

From beside him, he hears Feng Xin click his tongue. “We’re not fucking strangling you. And if you weren't so fucking difficult–”

“Just leave me alone!” Mu Qing finally manages to shove them both away. Are his eyes playing tricks on him again or is he swaying on his feet? “Why can't you just… let me be?” he catches himself asking before tumbling to the ground.

“Bloody rascal, how on earth did this happen?”

“I think they used a spell to weaken his body. His spiritual powers are still depleted–if might take a while for it to rise up again on it’s own, San Lang.”

“Then, what does gege suggest we do?”

Mu Qing winces when something wet presses against his abdomen. His eyes flutter open, yet all he sees is solid darkness.

“He’s waking up!” he hears Feng Xin say. “Mu Qing, can you hear me.”

Of course I can hear your, oaf, is what Mu Qing tries to say, but his voice catches at his throat.

A cold palm presses against his forehead and Mu Qing wants nothing more than to slap it off.

“He’s burning up.” Hua Cheng. The hand moves further down his face, fingertips brushing against his eyelids. There’s a brief moment of utter vulnerability, as if Mu Qing is giving up his soul for another. But then his vision clears, and he sees three very different expressions on familiar faces.

Xie Lian’s temple is creased, his mouth downturned as he stares at Mu Qing’s face. And upon glancing down, he sees Xie Lian’s hand squeezing his own. A face of unhidden concern; pity. Something dark brews inside as he processes that–being a damsel in distress, the General of the Southwest. Ridiculous.

Feng Xin is kneeling on the mat beside him, a damp cloth in his hand. His thick brows are furrowed as he scowls at Mu Qing. Strands of brunette hair fall over his face, his usually somewhat-neat bun now undone. He looks tired, annoyed. At Mu Qing. For what, wasting his time? For being so infirm and demanding attention? Nobody asked him to take care of Mu Qing, that imbecile.

And then there's the beast of a man, Hua Cheng. Hands folded across his chest, he looks as nonchalant as ever. His eyes sear into Mu Qing, bored and degrading.

Mu Qing feels the headache he had woken up with aggravate.

“Why am I being gawked at like some pathetic critter?” It comes out coarse and rough, his throat still aching and sore.

“Pathetic, indeed,” Hua Cheng sneers.

A knot tightens in his gut, the humiliation finally settling in. Gathering the strength to do so, Mu Qing lifts himself so his elbows support his weight. A sharp pain surges through him and both Xie Lian and Feng Xin scramble to grasp his arms, preventing the demeaning fall.

“Careful, Mu Qing,” Xie Lian chides. His fingers dig into Mu Qing’s skin–wait, where are his clothes?!

As if reading his mind, Feng Xin says, “Your clothes are ruined. Covered in fucking blood. We took it off so we could dress your wounds. Which are fucking bad, by the way.”

“Fuck you guys, that doesn't mean you can strip me of my robes. I’m not a doll.”

He feels Xie Lian’s hold on him weaken, a flicker of hurt passing through his eyes–did Mu Qing go too far?

“I don't mean–I… that's not. What I. You know. I’m–”

The bed dips on his right, and Mu Qing trails off. From his peripheral vision, he sees Hua Cheng taking off his own upper robe.

“If you're so uncomfortable,” he says casually, “you can put this on, general.” The ghost king drapes his red upper robe over Mu Qing’s shoulder, and his touch is so gentle, so tender, Mu Qing actually trembles.

“Cold?” he asks, right into Mu Qing’s ear. Mu Qing’s head tips forward to bypass Hua Cheng’s warm–how is it warm when he’s dead–breath. When he glances up, he locks eyes with Xie Lian, who pouts with his eyes wide like a deer’s.

“We’re not strangers.” his palms cup Mu Qing’s cheeks, and he finds himself leaning towards the touch. “We’re your friends.”

“Yeah, jackass. Stop pushing us away with every inch of your fucking life. It’s fucking annoying,” Feng Xin just has to add.

Mu Qing turns his head to glare, but Feng Xin smiles like a maniac instead of glaring right back. It’s fond and adoring and completely unlike him.

Hua Cheng scoffs from beside him. “It’s really not that hard to let yourself be spoiled, just for a little bit. You're too hard on yourself, Xuan Zhen.”

“Fucking hate to agree with Hua Cheng,” he hears Feng Xin mutter.

“Ugh…” Mu Qing hides his face with his hands, embarrassed. He’s sure he looks nothing less than a tomato.

Xie Lian’s chuckle fills the air and Mu Qing thinks that maybe this isn't so bad.

This is nice.

He might not want this again, or he definitely will want this again.

[intothedysphoria]

Steve is awoken at like 3 in the morning by an incessant pounding on the door.

He shuffles into his slippers and pads down the stairs, baseball bat in hand just in case.

At the door is a weary, dishevelled Billy Hargrove who looks like he’s on the verge of collapse.

Steve, alarmed ushers him in.

Sara Harrington, who was never exactly the heaviest sleeper, is already downstairs, peering at Billy with concern.

She leans down to his level, already splayed across the couch and makes a halting attempt at the language she hates so much.

Billy, shockingly, responds in imperfect but recognisable Yiddish before passing out.

Sara’s response is both deeply troubled but also has undercurrents of relief woven in.

“You never told me you found a Jewish friend.”

Well, friend is a stretch and Steve had no idea until about 5 seconds ago that Billy was anything but Irish Catholic.

Joshua finds out three hours later, when he wakes up to find a boy he doesn’t know at his dining table.

That makes Billy freeze, hairs standing on end in the middle of reaching for a pastry.

He only relaxes again when Steve’s dad makes a terrible joke about breakfast food and sits down, completely unfazed.

Steve manages to park himself right next to Billy, frantically whispering as he tries to figure out what the fuck is going on.

Billy’s response is a shrugged “dad found out I still practiced and kicked me out”, as if that isn’t one of the most horrific things Steve has ever heard.

Billy joins them for Shabbat that evening, as it’s a Friday. It’s clear he’s the real deal and that leaves Steve’s head swimming with questions. Why the fuck did a man so obviously bigoted marry a Jewish woman?

They smoke together peacefully on Steve’s driveway, Billy blowing out a long billow of smoke up into the night sky. He shifts slightly closer to Steve. Almost looking like he might reach out but then moves away.

Billy moves in permanently with the Byers. Steve sees him frequently at Temple, bantering with the Rabbi. It’s weird but seeing him in this environment, Steve could never picture him anywhere else.

Steves not got a crush or anything. He just daydreams about kissing Billy after he gets back from Rosh Hashana services. Normal guy stuff.

One night Billy climbs through his window. He just wants someone to talk to. Joshua and Sara are out on a business trip so Steve puts on Bronski Beat and they dance. Sensual. Steve’s head is on a fairground ride.

He’s pretty sure Billy leans in quickly to peck him on the lips but it’s so brief it might have been a dream.

It all kind of snowballs from there.

Certainly in terms of pseudo (?) romance. Which Steve isn’t complaining about

Steve thinks he may be sleepwalking. He flips through pamphlets about coming out and all of them inevitably point the same flashing arrow straight to him.

There’s a lump in his throat when he comes out to his parents. They’re so supportive, almost aggressively so and it makes Steve’s heart swell.

Coming out to Billy is a different kettle of fish. Steves fully aware that he’s obfuscating the matter, especially with the way he’ll lean into Billy’s touch but it’s just scary. Terrifying really.

Eventually though, he concedes.

Billy’s managed to get him into the backseat of the Camaro. It’s nowhere near as x rated as particularly Robin was expecting, more just second base. Something like that.

Steve finally manages to break away from the kiss and declare “I think I’m gay”.

Billy’s face says no shit but he’s not a dick about it. Instead, he motions for Steve to go on.

There’s a lot of cliches Steve could use. A fuck ton. But he keeps it brief.

He mumbles that he loves Billy and waits for the other shoe to drop.

It never does. Not really.

Billy just says it back. And they carry on.

This isn’t quite a Pesach or Chanukah fic but tysm @kallisto-k and @slime-hoe for your lovely comments, I hope this Jewish Harringrove is ok

@shieldofiron @dragonflylady77 @oopsiedaisiesbaby @harringroveobsessed @runraerun

[mraprilfools]

I just realized I never actually linked this to my Tumblr! VOX FANS HAVE SOME VOX SMUT.

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: E Pairing: Vox x F!Reader

CW/TW: None

Summary: The Vox-Tek Employee handbook is over 500 pages thick and you're expected to memorize every word. Your boss, Vox doesn't seem to understand why that's an unreasonable expectation. What's worse? After so many infractions he decides to call you into his office to punish your flagrant breaks of company protocol! Preview under the cut

The Voxtek employee handbook was so thick you could beat somebody to death with it. You knew that because you assaulted some creep on the way home with it one night! It was well-organized, you gave it that! But with so many different rules, standards, and procedures you struggled to memorize it all. You’d read the thing front and back multiple times and STILL found yourself breaking some obscure stupid protocol somewhere.

And your fucking boss was a grade-A asshole.

Vox didn’t let a single one go, no matter how minor. When you first started working there you had a phone that wasn’t under Voxtek regulations. So he confiscated it until after work. When you brought in a magazine that was doing a story about the mysterious Radio Demon’s reappearance? He fucking set it on fire and told you that propaganda toward Overlords other than Vee’s was also a violation! Eating anywhere but the break room? Forbidden. Even the food you could bring in had to be Vox-tek approved locations for takeout!

You SWORE you were safe to at least browse on your phone during lunch breaks. To rant about how your boss was an uptight little prick who didn’t know how to unclench his metal butt-hole once in his life. Your bestie on the other end listened to you vent via text messaging, and the two of you even shared some jokes. It was a good way to let off some steam in a place you always had to be on high alert at all times.

A peace that was shattered when Vox came strolling into the break room. The sight scared you straight in your seat, you immediately hit the power button on your phone to hide the conversation. The man had the usual dashing smile that he always wore in public. But you know he was fucking plastic. Fake.

It was unusual for Vox to ever come into the break room. You had a feeling it may have to do with the fact you were alone right now. Normally he’d send Papermint or one of his other secretaries to pick up his coffee but here he was in the…not-flesh grabbing it himself. The smile never left his face as he strolled over, setting his metallic hand on the table beside you. The familiarity he took with you put you further on edge. The coffee mug in his other hand, branding his hatred toward Alastor freely. What a salty cunt.

“Hello Sweetheart! How are you settling into our company? I know we’ve… had a rough start but it’s only because I see so much potential in you. I’d hate to see you wither on the branch!” He was sickeningly cheerful as if his constant reminders of your rule-breaking weren’t annoying, and you couldn’t say a word.

Through clenched teeth, you answered with a fake smile, “I’m doing my best Sir! I’m SO glad to be working here! It’s a real honor.”

The artificial cyan smile spread from frame to frame, a whimsical chime echoing for his speakers. “So glad to hear it! Always glad to see an asset join the team. And-- you have been good? No further questions or infractions?” Vox held the coffee cup forward as if to pull forth a confession from you. The slandering you both on company time was technically against policy but, as long as he didn’t go through your private messages? What could he know?

And you also did have that novel in your bag you bought on the way from work that was more ‘propaganda’. Again, secure in your locker and never opened so what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. With confidence, you answered, “Not at all sir! I’ve taken great care to memorize the entire handbook!”

You’d seen it on the news segments multiple times, how he strangely managed to drink coffee with that screen of his. And you got to see it in person for the first time, sighing with satisfaction when he drained the bitter brew. His head was one of life’s greatest mysteries. “Excellent! That’s what I like to hear!” Vox stood up, making his way to the exit. The sound of his heels clicking against the polished floor. You felt yourself relaxing, dropping your shoulders and letting out the breath you were holding to slump in your chair. You couldn’t relax around that guy.

“Oh--!” Vox snapped his fingers, making you sit up straight in your chair all over again, mechanically turning your head to look his way. “I almost forgot! I need you to come by my office at Seven, I want you to bring me the reports on the new Voxflix pilots aired this week. I don’t need to remind you what to do with the other two copies right? Of course not-- you’ve read the handbook. I’ll see you then!” Vox waved farewell before you could stop him, the door clicking shut before you could explain that no, you did NOT.

Dick.

From what you could remember protocol required a second copy for the record room! You’d completely blanked on the third. But your lunch break was not long enough you could fish out the employee manual and double-check it. With a sigh of resignation, you hoped that you’d remember when it came closer to seven.

[normalguycentral]

[bondagebimbo]

LOVE when the pharmacy decides to fucking dick around with my meds so badly that now I’m off my mood stabilizer, my pain meds, and my fucking birth control (in a few days) because they’re insisting I should have extra fucking bottles of each one and I DONT because they don’t let me pick up more than a one month supply of narcotics at a fucking time so do explain where these extra bottles are, hmm ????? and they didn’t have enough caplyta ordered last time to even give me my usual 3 months supply of that so … ???? get your fucking heads out of your asses and give me the fucking meds you owe me ??? like ??? but I’m in a nasty headspace right now so if I call the pharmacy this morning, I’m going to be that cunt ass customer they bitch about all day because this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. in fact, the first time, they straight up committed insurance fraud by marking one of my scripts as filled and picked up WHEN, IN REALITY, THEY FUCKING LOST THE SCRIPT AND HAD NO RECORD OF IT BEING FILLED OR PICKED UP IN THEIR SYSTEM, BUT YET, MARKED IT AS SUCH AND CHARGED MY INSURANCE AN ALMOST 8 GRAND FOR THE FUCKING 3 MONTHS OF MY MOOD STABILIZER THAT I. NEVER. RECEIVED. I’m genuinely about to report this entire pharmacy to the pharmacy board because I’m so fucking done with this place. it needs to be shut the fuck down because you’re telling me, out of an entire pharmacy, y’all share the same IQ point AND dead brain cell, collectively ??? then don’t fucking work in healthcare where people rely on you to know your shit and keep track of their fucking meds because you’re just constantly making shit worse on people since you can’t seem to not fuck around with these meds and not ‘lose’ scripts. fuck out of here.

and I’m pretty much out of weed, which is usually my back up pain management method, without the money to afford a delivery order by their cut off time to order in 3 hours because I just paid my fucking bills and have SOME to go towards it, but not enough for delivery to be free, and I’d still have to walk my ass to one of the ATM’s nearby because they don’t accept my bank as a prepaid method OR any of the cards I have on my person. 🫠

I can literally feel my back spasming and seizing on and off while I’m laying on my fucking side, I’ve had a migraine with a stupid ass aura for almost a week now because chronic migraines fucking suck and i was REALLY hoping this one would be over by now, my muscle inflammations that my pain meds are supposed to limit are already beginning to start their itching deep in my muscles so soon they’ll blossom into a whole fibromyalgia fucking episode and become entirely inflamed, my joints in my hands fucking hurt because of the dreary weather so I really need to get into a rheumatologist at some point soon as well and get that shit figured out, I’m nauseas as fuck from all the pain, and I’m moody, hormonal, and just feel like fucking death physically.

I’m just. I give up.

this shit is exhausting and painful and so mentally fucking taxing to constantly deal with and I just want a fucking break from all this fucking shit. I wish I could just … not exist … for even just a little while with how fucking painful existing actually feels right now 🫠😭

[james-spooky]

this is a test