#i’m so tired of it it’s so tiring i’m so exhausted

[cathnospam]

CW/// Bakugo is a nasty fucking pussy eater

Bakugo gets cute aggression, but he just doesn’t believe it.

He does though. Towards you.

Specifically when you’re cumming, you’re just so fucking cute. I mean look at you.

Your hips pushing against his mouth, the vibrations of his groans nearly sets your high to a new level as your ride your 2nd orgasm by his tongue.

you’re whining for him to stop licking, but when he does your big pretty eyes start to water, your lip quivers and you just barely above your breath whisper “Please.”

His red piercing eyes look up at you, sucking his lower lip, his breath his ragged on your clit before he latches back to suck on,

“Ssssuki!” You gasp, the tears began to flow, you just couldn’t help yourself each orgasm being better than the last.

When you begin to cum again Katsuki wants to feel you squirt on him, he pulls away and uses his left fingers to spread open your lips and his right 3 fingers to rub vigorously against your soft sensitive little clit.

“Ah fuck���“ He moans out seeing your left thigh twitch everytime his finger tips brush against that sweet spot, “C’mon…say my name.”

Shit he sounds so hot like that his voice is rasped and exhausted, you look down through your watery eyes to see sweat falling down his neck, eyes looking right back at you with desperation and hunger, “Say my name, c’mon..”

“Kats….uki…” You shut your eyes, all too overwhelmed you just focused your attention to what his fingers were doing to you.

“Say it again, you can do it.”

“Katsukiiiiiiii~” You let out a high pitched moan as he kissed your pussy. “Kats—“

He sees your hips slowly shaking again, you’re so so so close, and Bakugo smirks while sucking his bottom lip, “Feels good?”

“Mmhm..” Your brows furrowed, the lower half of your body feeling as if there were butterflies inside,

“Who’s making you feel this good?”

“You…aareeee, baby you!” Your orgasm hitting you like a truck you started crying out so loudly feeling his fingers scissor inside you, “You, baby! You Katsuki! All you! Baby—“

Bakugo quickly sucks on your pussy as you squirt uncontrollably, the fluids passing through non stop as your ride out your orgasm just made you claw on his scalp as he “licked you clean” groaning your name.

“Katsuki!” You whine, his tongue tracing his own name inside you after cumming, you’re so damn sensitive you try to wiggle away from his grasp but he was so much stronger than you he held your hips down. “Sukiiiii.”

“U…G…O…” He muttered to himself with his tongue out. You don’t know WHY he does that after he finishes eating you out, but you don’t complain. It’s kinda attractive.

He hovers over your limp, tired body, examines and admires the small marks he left on your tits before kissing your nipples, almost like his way of saying sorry, then he looks at you.

Fuck, you’re cute.

Right before he holds you he can’t help but soak in your face, it just triggers an emotion of wanting to hold you and take care of you.

Bakugo grabs your chubby wet cheeks and kisses you, so hard it almost knocks your breath away and pulls back, looks at you again a mf kisses you some more before saying,

“I’m a record your face when you cum. You should see how you look.”

Translation,

“You’re so fucking adorable it drives me insane.”

[kittykat-suki]

Clingy 𓇢𓆸

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader Warnings: angst with comfort

Jeongin’s passion, his dedication to his fans, the way he pushed himself to perfect every move, every note and every performance captivated you.

So, when you were made aware that he had been overworking himself, you naturally decided to show up at practice to treat him and the other members to your well known sweet treats- y/n’s chocolate chip cookies and blueberry muffins. You hoped that this would provide all of them with a bit of energy to endure the long hours of rehearsals.

Smiling to yourself, you were excited to see the way Jeongin’s eyes would light up when he sees you. However, as you entered the studio, a unfamiliar atmosphere hung in the air. The usual bickering and laughter were absent. Instead, the tension was thick, almost suffocating.

The room was solely filled with the sound of exhausted footsteps and heavy breathing as the members rehearsed for their upcoming performance.

Jeongin stood at the center, his posture stiff as he wiped the sweat off his forehead, looking worn-out, as though his energy had been drained from every corner of his body. He hadn’t noticed you come in yet, but you figured it would only be a moment before his face broke into the warm smile you knew so well.

As the practise came to an end, you stepped forward, holding out the tub of treats. "Hey, Jeongin," you said softly, your voice warm but cautious, sensing the underlying tension. "I brought you all some snacks. I thought you might be hungry."

The other members turned toward you with friendly smiles, immediately taking the treats from you and offering their thanks. But Jeongin didn’t look up. He continued adjusting his shoes, his body tense as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. You tried again, more gently this time.

"Jeongin… you’ve been working so hard. Maybe you should take a break," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Finally, he looked at you, but not in the way you had hoped. His eyes were tired, bloodshot from lack of sleep, but what caught you off guard was the hostility in his eyes, which was supported by the sharp edge in his voice. "I don’t need a break, Y/N."

You stepped back, a little surprised by the distaste in his tone. "I just thought you might need some support—".

He cut you off with a scoff. "Support?" His voice grew louder now, filled with irritation. "I don’t need you hovering around me all the time, y/n. You’re being the opposite of supportive right now. It’s like you don’t get it."

The words stung horribly, but you tried to ignore it, hoping this wasn’t really happening. Maybe he was just tired. "I didn’t mean to annoy you… I just wanted to help. I made these for you guys, it’s your favourites."

"I don’t need your help," he snapped, the words hitting you harder than you expected. "You’re always so clingy, always trying to be there when I’m just trying to focus. It’s exhausting being with you."

The room fell silent. You felt your stomach drop as his words echoed not only around the room, but in your mind and all the way to your heart.

Clingy. Such a simple word, but it cut deeper than anything else he could have said. You had always been insecure of this, and now your caring boyfriend had just unknowingly confirmed your deepest fears.

"You’re right. I’m…sorry," you whispered, keeping your eyes down and onto the now bitter treats in order to stop the tears form rushing out. Your hands clenched around the tub, trying to keep your composure, but it was all unraveling inside you.

Before you could say anything else, you shoved the tub into Jeongin’s hands and turned away quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t even look back to see if he was watching you. With a slam, the door shut behind you, and you walked down the hallway, feeling the weight of his anger pressing down on you.

The cold air hit you as you reached the exit. You hadn’t expected your surprise to end this way, and now you felt more alone than ever. The streets added to your discomfort, seemingly more emptier than usual, with the night sky above you dark and unforgiving.

You wanted to just go home and drown in your own sorrows, preferably with a tub of ice cream, but your phone and keys. You hadn’t even realized you’d left them in the practice room.

You knew you couldn’t go back, so you wandered aimlessly, knowing you had nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. It felt like the weight of his rejection was following you, echoing in your ears.

And then, as if the world had conspired against you, the rain began to pour. First, it was a few droplets, but soon it turned into a downpour, soaking you through. But you barely noticed, your mind too clouded with the sting of Jeongin’s words to focus on anything else.

You wished you hadn’t come. Wished you hadn’t tried to help him, to support him. Maybe you had overstepped. Maybe you were too much. Maybe, just like Jeongin had confirmed, you were clingy and just a burden.

Tears mixed with the rain as you stumbled down the deserted streets. You didn't even care that you were soaked to the bone. You didn’t care about anything anymore, the words of the person you most trusted hurt more than anything.

It wasn’t until you heard hurried footsteps behind you that you even registered someone was approaching. You turned, startled, only to see Jeongin, breathless and soaked, running toward you.

"Y/N!" he called, his voice filled with panic. "Y/N, wait!".

You turned back and kept walking, anger and hurt still looking in your mind. However, he caught up to you, blacking your path.

Jeongin stood there in the pouring rain, his soaked hair plastered to his forehead, the dark strands clinging to his face like the weight of his regret. His drenched jacket stuck to his body, outlining his frame, and he looked smaller than usual, like he was struggling with the enormity of what had just happened.

His eyes were wide and filled with panic as he searched your face as if he were trying to find a way to undo the damage, to take back the words that had slipped from his mouth. His lips parted slightly, as if he was trying to speak, but no words came out. The tension in his posture was so palpable, it was as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders, each raindrop a reminder of his mistake.

And yet, there was something more in his eyes than just worry. Something deeper.

Guilt.

It was written across his face in every line and every flicker of uncertainty that crossed his features. You had seen him worried before, but never like this. Never with that quiet, broken look, as though he was carrying the burden of something he couldn’t undo.

He stepped forward, his soaked shoes making soft squelching sounds against the wet pavement, but you took a step back, not wanting to get too close, not yet.

"Y/N…" His voice cracked slightly, sounding hoarse and unsure, swallowed by the sound of the rain that fell in torrents around you both. His hand reached out, but it hung in the air, trembling as if he wasn’t sure whether he had the right to touch you, whether you would let him.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but your heart felt heavy, the anger and hurt still so fresh. "You don’t need to worry about me, Jeongin," you said softly, pulling away, "I’m fine."

"Stop," he said, his voice trembling. "I care about you. I... I didn’t mean to say those things to you earlier." His voice cracked, and for a moment, you saw how broken he looked. "I was just so tired, and I… I took it all out on you."

You shook your head, still not meeting his gaze. "It’s fine. I understand."

"No," he said urgently, his hands reaching for you, cupping your face gently to make you look at him. "No, it’s not fine. It’s not fine at all. I was stupid, Y/N. You’ve always been there for me, supporting me, and I pushed you away. I hurt you… and I never meant to."

His hands were warm against your cold cheeks, his touch almost like a lifeline. "I was just so tired. So overworked. I didn’t know what to say, and the worst thing is that none of I what I said was true. I… I’m so sorry."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, and for the first time since you had left, you allowed yourself to cry. The tears flowed freely, mixing with the rain that poured down, but this time, you didn’t feel as alone.

Jeongin gently wiped the tears from your face with his thumb, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I never should’ve said that to you. You mean so much to me. I’m so sorry for everything."

You took a deep breath, letting his words wash over you, and nodded slowly. "I know you didn’t mean it. I just… I just want you to know you don’t have to push me away. I care about you, Jeongin. I want to help you."

He pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you as if he were trying to hold onto you, as if he were afraid you’d slip away. "I won’t push you away again. I promise. I’m so sorry."

You let yourself sink into him, the warmth of his embrace pushing away the cold of the rain. You could feel the weight lifting off your chest, the hurt slowly fading, replaced by the quiet reassurance that everything would be okay.

"I’ll always be here," you whispered, and for the first time that night, Jeongin smiled softly against your hair.

[kdyq]

Let me teach you baby

Context: Ambessa teaches you how to fight.

Ambessa x Fem!reader

The training courtyard was alive with the hum of insects and the faint rustle of leaves in the warm breeze. Ambessa stood in the center her arms crossed and her gaze locked on you. Unlike the sword fighting lessons you’d expected today was about raw combat the kind Ambessa herself had perfected over a lifetime.

“Hand to hand combat is personal” Ambessa said her deep voice steady. “It’s about power precision and control. Forget elegance. Forget weapons. Your body is your weapon.”

You took a deep breath flexing your fingers. “So… we’re just going to hit each other?”

Ambessa’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Not each other. You’ll hit me and I’ll show you what you’re doing wrong.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That sounds like an unfair fight.”

“It is,” she said simply. “But you’ll learn.”

The first thing Ambessa had you do was practice your stance.

“You’re too stiff.” she observed, circling you like a predator stalking prey. Her golden eyes flicked to your feet. “Spread your stance. Center your weight. If you can’t balance you can’t fight.”

You adjusted planting your feet as she instructed. “Like this?”

“Better” she said stepping closer. Without warning she shoved your shoulder hard making you stumble. “But not good enough.”

“Hey!” you protested regaining your footing.

She shrugged. “A real opponent won’t wait for you to get comfortable. Again.”

You sighed but tried again this time bracing yourself. When Ambessa pushed you again you held your ground.

“There” she said a hint of approval in her tone. “Now you’re ready to throw a punch.”

“Keep your fists up” Ambessa instructed demonstrating the proper form. Her movements were fluid and so smooth. Her fists raised just high enough to guard her face while leaving room to strike. “Like this. Protect your head and stay loose. You’re not a statue you’re a predator.”

You mimicked her stance your fists feeling awkward and heavy. “I don’t feel like a predator” you admitted.

Ambessa smirked. “Not yet. But you will.”

She motioned for you to throw a punch. You hesitated then swung your fist toward her. Ambessa caught your wrist midswing her grip firm but not painful.

“Too slow” she said. “You’re telegraphing your moves. Watch my eyes. Anticipate my next move before you make yours.”

“That’s easy for you to say” you muttered pulling your hand back. “You’ve been doing this forever.”

Ambessa chuckled. “True. But I didn’t start out perfect. I had to learn just like you.”

Her words gave you a spark of determination. You shifted your weight focused on her stance and tried again. This time your punch was faster and though Ambessa blocked it her expression shifted ever so slightly.

“Better” she said nodding. “But you can still hit harder.”

The session continued with Ambessa teaching you how to dodge block and counter. Each time she corrected you her tone was firm but never harsh. She pushed you to your limits but there was a quiet encouragement in her gaze that kept you going.

By the time the sun began to set, you were drenched in sweat your muscles aching. Ambessa handed you a towel her expression softened by a rare smile.

“You did well today” she said her deep voice warm. “You’ve got more strength than you realize.”

You wiped your face managing a tired grin. “You’re just saying that because I didn’t pass out.”

Ambessa laughed in a low rich sound that made your exhaustion feel worth it. “No I’m saying it because it’s true. But don’t get cocky. You’ve still got a lot to learn.”

“Does that mean we’re doing this again tomorrow?” you asked half dreading the answer.

She stepped closer, her hand brushing against yours as she took the towel back. “Every day until you can hold your own”she said her tone serious. “I don’t train people halfway.”

You looked up at her feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and gratitude. “Thanks, Ambessa. For taking the time to do this.”

Her gaze softened and she placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s not just about training. It’s about making sure you’re ready for anything. And I’ll always make time for you.”

As the two of you left the training grounds together, the ache in your body was tempered by the growing bond between you and Ambessa. She wasn’t just teaching you how to fight she was teaching you how to find strength in yourself.

And for that you couldn’t thank her enough.

“THE END”

AN/ That mini series is taking me a while but here’s something I always wanted to write about.

[lumosou]

୨୧ — The Harry Potter boys and their Love Languages ( ˆ͈̑꒳ˆ͈̑ )੭ ; 𖦹 + ♡

ꕤ — Characters ; Harry J Potter. Ron Weasley. Fred Weasley. George Weasley. Neville Longbottom. Draco Malfoy. Cedric Diggory.

ꕤ — Discretion ; none!! just fluff and love.

ꕤ — A/n ; eee i’m so sorry for disappearing for a bit ☹️. but i appreciate alll the support u guys have been showing me on all my works!! ily guys!! so here’s a fun lil treat :3 thank u endlessly 🫶🏻

; masterlist.

୨୧ — Harry J. Potter & Acts Of Service.

Harry isn’t good with words—not the ones that matter, anyway. He stumbles, stammers, gets stuck trying to say how he feels. But when it comes to showing you, there’s no hesitation. His love is found in the way he waits outside the library to walk you back to the common room, how he memorizes your favorite tea and makes sure there’s always enough sugar. It’s the way he notices when you’re too tired to finish an essay and stays up scribbling notes for you even though he’s just as exhausted.

He’s the boy who gives pieces of himself quietly, always watching, always finding the small gaps in your day where he can slip in and help without you asking. Because that’s what he needs—to feel like he’s protecting you, even from the smallest inconveniences.

Harry doesn’t say I love you in grand speeches. He says it in the way he fixes your broken quill without telling you, how he gives you the better seat at dinner, how he’d gladly carry your burdens if you let him. To him, love is action—every unspoken I’ll take care of this wrapped in the quiet hope that you’ll understand.

୨୧ — Ron Weasley & Quality Time.

Ron doesn’t need extravagant displays of affection; he just wants you. To be near you, to sit next to you, to share the little pieces of his world that make him who he is. He thrives in your presence, whether it’s laughing over a ridiculous chess match, walking the long way to class just to keep the conversation going, or sitting quietly by the fire while the hours slip by unnoticed.

Time with you is how Ron shows he cares. It’s in the way he always makes room for you—on the couch, in his day, in his life. He’ll wait for you after lessons, save you a seat at every meal, and offer you the last Chocolate Frog without hesitation. He’s happiest when you’re there, no matter what you’re doing, because your company makes everything better.

For Ron, love is in the small, stolen moments. It’s in the way he notices the things you like, the way he teases you just enough to see you smile. He doesn’t need to say it out loud—not when every minute he spends with you is his way of saying, You matter to me.

୨୧ — Fred Weasley & Physical Touch.

Fred speaks in touches—quick, fleeting, and full of mischief. A hand on your shoulder as he sneaks up behind you, a playful nudge of his elbow to make you laugh, the way his arm always ends up slung around your shoulders like it belongs there. He’s tactile in a way that feels effortless, like he can’t help himself when it comes to you.

But then there are the other touches, the ones that mean more than he ever says out loud. His hand brushing yours under the table, his fingers ghosting over your back when you’re standing close, the way he pulls you into a hug that lasts just a second longer than it should. He’s all warmth, all ease, all Fred.

With him, touch is a language of its own. It’s how he shows he’s paying attention, how he steadies you when the world feels too loud, how he reminds you that he’s there—always, without fail. He’ll twirl a strand of your hair around his finger while you’re trying to focus, just to see you roll your eyes, but his thumb will stroke gently over your knuckles when you’re quiet, reminding you that he sees more than you think.

Fred’s love is in the way he’s never far, his presence a constant, reassuring hum. Every touch, whether playful or tender, says what he won’t always put into words: I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re mine.

୨୧ — George Weasley & Acts Of Service.

George loves quietly, but he loves deeply. His affection isn’t loud or flashy—it’s in the little things, the unnoticed gestures that leave no room for doubt. He’ll stay up late helping you finish that essay, even though he’s got his own work waiting for him. He’ll charm the Gryffindor common room fire to burn just a little brighter when you’re cold, or tuck a sweet you love into your bag without a word.

With George, it’s all about thoughtfulness. He pays attention—really pays attention—to the things that make you happy. He knows your favorite snack, your favorite quill, the way you like your tea. He notices when you’ve had a rough day before you even say a word, and his first instinct is to fix it. A joke, a small gift, a ridiculous gesture—it’s all his way of saying, I’m here for you.

But his acts of service aren’t just practical—they’re personal. He’s always finding ways to make your life brighter, softer, more manageable. If you’re overwhelmed, he’ll take something off your plate without you asking. If you’re sad, he’ll make you laugh, even if it means making a fool of himself. And when you ask why he does it, he’ll shrug, his ears pink, and say, “Because I can.”

George’s love is subtle but unwavering. It’s in every thoughtful detail, every small action, every quiet I’ll take care of it that he hopes you’ll notice but never expects you to. It’s the kind of love that doesn’t demand attention—it just is.

୨୧ — Neville Longbottom & Words Of Affirmation.

Neville’s love is soft, steady, and full of reassurance. He’s the boy who sees the best in you, even when you can’t see it yourself. His words are careful, heartfelt, and impossibly earnest—he’ll tell you how brilliant you are after every small success, remind you how brave you are when you’re doubting yourself, and whisper how beautiful you look when you catch him staring.

But Neville’s words aren’t just sweet; they’re intentional. He notices the things you’re insecure about—the things you try to hide—and makes it his mission to remind you of your worth. When you’re frustrated or overwhelmed, he’s the one who tells you, It’s okay. You’ve got this. You’re stronger than you think. He believes in you wholeheartedly, and he’ll never let you forget it.

His love is in the way he writes you little notes when he’s too shy to say things out loud, the way he always manages to find the perfect compliment at the perfect moment. Neville’s words aren’t about flattery—they’re about truth. He means every single one.

With Neville, you never have to wonder how he feels. His words wrap around you like a warm hug, a constant reminder that you’re loved, cherished, and seen. To him, every You’re amazing is another way of saying, I’m so lucky to have you.

୨୧ — Draco Malfoy & Gift Giving.

Draco shows his love in the way he gives—not just things, but pieces of himself. His gifts are thoughtful, deliberate, and so carefully chosen that you can’t help but feel how much he pays attention. A rare book he tracked down because you mentioned it once, your favorite sweets neatly wrapped and waiting for you after a hard day, or an heirloom quill with a note that simply says, It reminded me of you.

It’s never about the price, though he pretends it is. He’ll roll his eyes and call it no big deal, but the way he watches your reaction gives him away every time. Because it isn’t just a gift—it’s his way of saying, I see you. I notice what makes you happy. I care.

But it’s not all material. Draco gives his time, his attention, his loyalty. He’s there when you need him, even if he doesn’t know what to say. He shows up with a coffee you didn’t ask for or slips a note into your bag that reads, Don’t forget how brilliant you are. It’s in the way he lends you his scarf when you’re cold or makes sure your favorite seat by the fire is saved.

Draco’s love is in the details, the way he always finds the perfect thing to remind you how much you mean to him. He doesn’t say I love you easily, but his gifts? They say it for him. Quietly, fiercely, and completely.

୨୧ — Cedric Diggory & Physical Touch.

Cedric’s love is quiet, steady, and impossibly warm, and it shows in the way he touches you. It’s never demanding, always gentle—a hand at the small of your back as you walk through the halls, his fingers brushing yours under the table, or the way his arm wraps around your shoulders without hesitation when you’re cold. With Cedric, touch isn’t just comfort; it’s a promise: I’m here, I’ve got you.

He’s affectionate in ways that feel effortless. He’ll press a kiss to your temple when no one’s looking, or pull you into a hug so tight it feels like he’s shielding you from the world. When you’re upset, his thumb traces slow circles over the back of your hand, grounding you. And when words fail, it’s his touch that reassures you—light, familiar, unshakable.

But it’s the little moments that matter most. The way he reaches for you instinctively, his fingers intertwining with yours like they belong there. The way his forehead leans against yours in quiet moments, his breath mingling with yours in a silent exchange of you’re everything to me. Cedric doesn’t just touch you; he anchors you.

To him, love is closeness. It’s the warmth of his body against yours, the feel of his hand in yours, and the way he’s always, always pulling you closer—because with you, he’s home.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

[revelboo]

Me at your post:

Question. Have you ever thought about writing for the Constructicons? (Not with Prowl though). I think it would be hilarious.

Rewatched their G1 episodes today. Title is the song ‘Drive’ by The Matches. An attempt was made

Drive

Constructicons x Reader

• “I’m just saying. A little appreciation.” Exchanging a look with Long Haul, Scavenger tries to ignore Hook’s grumbling as they work. Pushing against a tree until the wood splinters and breaks so he can dove it over and drag it out of the way. Pausing to tip his head up at the night sky and wonder where home is. “We’re out here busting our afts and do we get any thanks?” Hook demands. No. What they’d gotten was their energon rations cut because in the Decepticon hierarchy, they’re not much higher than Insecticons. He doesn’t like it, but understands. Being forged here on this miserable mudball not Cybertron means being looked down upon. And he has no idea where Cybertron is among those glittering stars. Can it be home when he’s never set ped there?

• “We do our job. A fragging good job,” Scrapper says, trying to keep the peace as Bonecrusher utters a harsh laugh and Mixmaster just shakes his head at him. Like he doesn’t see the scorn. Knows the others think he’s oblivious, but he’s knows they’re looked down on until they’re needed. Devastator demands their respect, but on their own? They’re second class citizens. If even that. Some of the other Decepticons are all too happy to sneer at them, to assume that since they didn’t come from Cybertron they’re less.

• Bending to gouge up a handful of soil and to intake through his vents, separating out the individual components in his head, Mixmaster growls. Scenting those trace amounts of energon that are the whole reason they’re out here in the middle of nowhere. “No one wants to hear that, though,” Mixmaster mutters. “They want us to work and keep quiet. It’s here.” Glancing at his brother when Bonecrusher bumps him. “They’re scared of us,” Bonecrusher growls, beginning to aggressively clear the land of trees, movements sloppy and giving away that he’s been into the high grade. But they all know it’s Devastator that’s feared, not them. They’re tools. Nothing more. Disrespected and mocked by the rest of the Decepticons. Something they all feel and that gets compounded when they’re combined. That dissatisfaction growing every time they combine, spreading and feeding on itself when they separate again. Reaching a boiling point with no outlet to let off some steam. Except to destroy something. And there’s nothing here but trees.

• Exhausted and not even tempted by the hot, greasy smell of fast food in the bag in the passenger seat, you go over the list in your head again. Trying to remember if you’ve gotten at least a little something for everyone. That you’re ready for the upcoming holiday. You’d volunteered to work the day before for the extra cash, but you keep wondering if you’re forgetting something. Distracted you almost miss the huge, dark shape that comes sailing out of the woods. Slamming a foot on the brake as your car slides with a scream of tires, a tree slams into the road ahead of you and goes end over end in a shower of pine needles and broken branches. What? Toggling your emergency lights on, you put the car into park and get out, wincing at the biting cold. And your breath catches as it sinks in that a tree chucked like a javelin even though there’s no wind, no plausible explanation, nearly took you out. Squinting into the dark woods, your skin prickles as a red glow flares in the shadows. Then five more.

• Hears Bonecrusher laugh and Long Haul turns to follow his stare. Sees the tiny shape through the trees silhouetted by the headlights of the car behind them. There’s no way the little human can see anything more than the glow of their optics. But there’s a whisper of excitement twisting through him as Scrapper says, “Bottle of engex to whoever squishes it before it ruins everything.”

• Heart in your throat as those red glows shift and a branch cracks, there’s a roar from the trees that crackles through you and you forget the car. Forget everything beyond the animal need to get away. Running as trees crack and get uprooted with thunderous noise behind you to send you racing across the road and into the woods on the other side in a blind panic. Don’t even know what’s chasing you, only that you don’t want to find out. Is this what a rabbit feels like with hungry foxes snapping at its heels?

• Heavy peds tearing up dirt and leaves as he tries to overtake Hook, Scavenger hears Mixmaster calling out to the organic. Laughingly saying they only want to play. You’re surprisingly fast for being so small, but even noisier than Bonecrusher somehow. Energon pumping through his lines as you break from the trees, just a little shadow silvered by the moon, almost unreal looking as you pelt through the tall grass. Catches a glimpse of terrified eyes when you glance back and then you go down, disappearing completely.

• “Where’d it go?” Hook growls, reaching to push Scavenger out of his way as the rest of his brothers catch up and he realizes there’s a sheet drop, the ground giving way so suddenly you hadn’t seen it in time to react. Leaning down to look at the still form lying in the shallow stream at the bottom, there’s a momentary flicker of disappointment. Because chasing you had made him feel more alive than he’d felt in a long time. The hunt a high almost as sweet as combining.

• Lingering at the edge of the ravine, spark pulsing still with the excitement of your fear, Scrapper’s aware of Mixmaster and Bonecrusher shoving at each other. Of Long Haul and Scavenger both still staring down at their quarry. Turning away to order them back to work, he hesitates as Scavenger bumps his arm with a fist. “It’s still alive.” And he hears the low, pained sound from the little human. “Pretty fun to chase,” Long Haul adds, shooting him a look. Primus, are they wanting to keep you? Like a pet? All five of his brothers are staring at him now. Waiting for his decision. And groaning in defeat, he gestures at the drop. “Fine, but I’m not cleaning up after it.” Because you’re a distraction, something to keep them from dwelling on how unhappy they all are.

[joelsrose]

Face Masks?

i need to stop writing this shit bc its making me depresseeedd i need himmm

my masterlist xxx

The room was dimly lit, the golden glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the room. 

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, the wooden frame slightly chipped but charming nonetheless, humming a tune to yourself as you adjusted the headband holding your hair back. 

The faint scent of roses filled the air, delicate and warm, emanating from the homemade face mask you were mixing in a ceramic bowl Maria had lent you. 

You bit your lip in concentration, the wooden spoon swirling through the creamy mixture as you tried to remember the exact instructions Maria had given you earlier that day.

From the bedroom, Joel’s voice broke the peaceful quiet. He was grumbling, his tone steeped in frustration and exhaustion. “He’s a goddamn idiot,” he groaned, clearly talking about someone from patrol. “Told him to stay low, and what does he do? Barges in and almost gets us killed.” 

A muffled clink followed, the sound of ceramic touching wood as he set something down on the bedside table. Likely your tea, judging by the faint whiff of chamomile drifting into the room.

Then, his voice shifted, the sharp edges dulled by a tired sort of affection. “Baby,” he called, low and gruff, “you comin’ to bed, or you plannin’ on spendin’ the whole damn night in the bathroom?” The words carried a teasing hint, though softer, quieter, he added, almost to himself, “Your tea’s gonna get cold.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you called back, teasing, “You missin’ me already?”

There was a beat of silence, then his reply came, gruff but undeniably warm. “I wouldn’t be askin’ if I didn’t.”

Your heart fluttered a little, the way it always did when Joel said something like that—not exactly romantic, but the kind of thing only he could make feel like one. 

“Just a few more minutes,” you called out, “gotta make sure I’m extra soft and pretty for you.”

“Don’t need any of that,” he muttered, but it was loud enough for you to hear. “You’re already plenty pretty.”

Your cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment, even though his tone was gruff. You shook your head, grinning to yourself. 

“Alright,” you replied, your voice carrying through the half-open door. You set the bowl down on the counter and grabbed the jar of homemade moisturizer Maria had also insisted you try. The subtle scent of lavender and honey wafted up as you scooped some into your hands, rubbing it between your palms before smoothing it over your legs.

“So, what happened after?” you asked, keeping your tone light, though curiosity lingered beneath your words. Joel wasn’t the type to gripe unless something had well and truly gotten under his skin.

From the bedroom, you heard him sigh, long and heavy, the sound carrying the weight of his frustration. The soft rustle of the bedsheets followed—he was probably settling in, though you could imagine him rubbing a hand over his face, trying to shake off the day.

“What happened?” he echoed, his voice tinged with exasperation. “Had to clean up his damn mess, that’s what. Kid thinks he’s invincible.” The irritation sharpened as he went on, his voice rising as though he were speaking to the ceiling, reliving the ordeal as he vented. “Walked us straight into an ambush, and I ended up takin’ the brunt of it.”

“Wow,” you gushed aloud, unable to help yourself as you swirled the spoon in the bowl, your voice filled with playful admiration. “My man, taking on all those scary raiders. Bet you looked sexy doing it.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, there was silence. You smiled to yourself in the mirror, already imagining Joel’s reaction. The way his brows would knit together, that half-gruff, half-flustered expression he’d never admit to, and maybe even a quiet huff of disbelief.

From the bedroom, Joel sighed, loud and dramatic enough for you to hear. “Come out here, please,” he called, his voice carrying that familiar mix of irritation and something softer. “Christ, why’d I gotta beg with you?”

Curious, you leaned out of the bathroom just enough to catch a glimpse of him, careful not to draw his attention. There he was, sprawled across the bed in a way that was all Joel—equal parts rugged and weary.

His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, his expression carrying that familiar blend of irritation and exhaustion that somehow made your chest tighten. Gosh, he was gorgeous, and the sight of him had your cheeks warming despite yourself.

And then there was his face—flushed in a way you recognized instantly. The kind of flush he’d get when he was flustered but too stubborn to admit it.

One arm was tucked behind his head, his elbow jutting out, while the other rested on his chest, fingers absently tapping against the fabric of his shirt. The movement was rhythmic, almost absentminded, as if it might somehow work out the frustration simmering beneath his skin.

His tousled hair framed his face in a way that softened his usually stern features, and the sight of him in a soft gray pyjama shirt and dark pants—clothes that clung just slightly to his broad frame—was disarming. There was something so ordinary about it, so wonderfully domestic.

The bed, far too small for a man like him, groaned faintly under his weight, his legs just barely hanging off the edge. He shifted slightly, a sigh escaping his lips, and for a fleeting moment, you felt like an intruder on something too personal, too real. But you couldn’t look away—he was an unexpected contradiction, all gruffness wrapped in quiet vulnerability, and it left you completely undone.

You smiled to yourself, biting back a laugh at how ridiculously cute he looked in that moment, before calling out teasingly, “So you yell at the poor guy?”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Joel shot back, his tone unapologetic, though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Well,” you replied, finally stepping out of the bathroom with the bowl of face mask in your hands, the soft scent of roses trailing after you as you made your way to the bed. “I got somethin’ that might help you relax.”

Joel shifted at the sound of your voice, propping himself up slightly on one elbow. His gaze landed on you, and for a moment, his expression softened, the frustration from earlier melting away just a little. “I like the sound of that,” he murmured, his voice low and rough around the edges. His eyes swept over you, lingering for a beat too long.

You could practically feel the heat of his gaze as it took in the sight of you in his oversized T-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, the hem of the shirt brushing just above your knees. There was something unreadable in his expression, though the way his brow ticked up ever so slightly told you he probably had the wrong idea about how exactly you planned to help him relax.

The corner of your mouth twitched with amusement as you climbed onto the bed, careful not to spill the bowl in your hands. Joel’s eyes followed your every move, curiosity flickering in their depths as he tilted his head slightly.

He raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking from the bowl in your hands to your face and back again, his expression suspicious. “The hell is that?” he asked, his voice low and dripping with skepticism.

“A face mask,” you replied simply, your tone as matter-of-fact as if you’d just declared the sky was blue.

Joel’s brows knit together, his confusion almost comical. His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he were trying to puzzle out some great mystery. “For your face,” you added, enunciating each word slowly like he might not have understood.

His reaction was immediate—his lips pressed into a thin, stubborn line, and he leaned back against the headboard, crossing his arms over his chest. “No way in hell you’re puttin’ that shit on me,” he said, his voice firm, like he was drawing a line in the sand.

You pouted dramatically, sticking your bottom lip out just enough to make him groan, the sound low and reluctant as his head tilted back against the headboard. “Oh, come on, Joel,” you coaxed, your voice lilting with playful innocence. “It’s supposed to be good for your skin. Don’t you trust me?”

Joel groaned, a deep, reluctant sound as his head leaned back against the headboard. “An old man like me is way past carin’ about his skin,” he muttered, shaking his head.

His eyes snapped back to yours, narrowing suspiciously, but before he could protest again, you leaned in closer, letting your fingers brush ever so lightly against the hem of his pyjama pants. “Maybe if you do it,” you murmured, your tone teasing, “I’ll help you unwind another way too.”

Joel froze, his gaze locked on you as the faintest flush crept up his neck. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again, visibly wrestling with whatever was going through his head. “You’re playin’ dirty,” he muttered finally, his voice low and gravelly, but there was no mistaking the way his jaw ticked, like he was trying not to let you see how flustered he was.

You tilted your head, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Is it workin’?”

“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing his hand over his face as though already regretting the conversation. “The things I do for you…”

Your face lit up with a triumphant smile. “Is that a yes?”

He grumbled something incoherent before sighing deeply. “Hurry up before I change my mind,” he said, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the pillow.

You squealed softly, unable to contain your excitement as you settled closer to his broad body, the warmth of him grounding you. With gentle fingers, you collected the rose-scented mask and smoothed it over his weathered skin, taking your time to ensure every stroke was perfect. The contrast between his rugged, sun-worn features and the soft, floral scent of the mask struck you as oddly endearing.

Here he was, Joel Miller—the man who could take down an infected in seconds without breaking a sweat—now lying still and letting you paint his face with homemade skincare. The absurdity of it made your chest swell with affection, and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out as you leaned back to admire your handiwork.

You admired his face as he lay there, his features finally relaxed, the usual tension around his brow melting away. For a moment, he looked completely at peace, the lines on his face softer, his breathing slow and steady. Your eyes wandered over him, taking in the details you rarely let yourself linger on.

“You’ve got the prettiest eyelashes, baby,” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could catch them.

Joel’s lips twitched, the faintest smirk forming, though he didn’t open his eyes. “Prettiest, huh?” he muttered, his voice rough but tinged with teasing.

“And the nicest lips,” you added softly, unable to help yourself as you leaned down, brushing your own lips against his in a fleeting kiss. His mouth curved into a smile beneath yours, the warmth of it sending a flutter of butterflies racing through your chest.

“Urgh,” you groaned, pulling back just enough to sit beside him, the bowl resting on your lap. “You’re so handsome.”

Joel’s hand moved without hesitation, even with his eyes still closed. His large, calloused fingers found your thigh, squeezing gently, the roughness of his touch making your heart skip a beat.

He chuckled low, a sound that was equal parts amusement and satisfaction. “Look at you, bein’ nice to me,” he teased, his eyes staying closed, though the smirk that tugged at his lips was impossible to miss.

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile as you dipped your fingers back into the face mask. “Hey,” you said, swiping a playful line of the mixture across his forehead to smooth it out evenly, “I’m always nice to you.”

“Debatable,” he added lazily, the teasing warmth in his voice making you laugh.

“Shut up,” you shot back, still laughing as you set the bowl down on the nightstand.

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, his hand brushing against his cheek as he frowned. “Is it meant to be this cold?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, batting his hand away before he could smear it. “Don’t touch it.”

He opened his eyes then, fixing you with a deadpan look that would’ve been more convincing if his lips weren’t twitching. “You happy now?”

You grinned at him, your smile wide enough to make your eyes crinkle. “Very.”

“Good,” Joel muttered, leaning back into the pillow with a soft sigh. “Gimme a kiss.”

You leaned in obligingly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back, your gaze lingering on his face for a moment longer than you intended. “Okay, my turn,” you declared suddenly, sitting up and setting the bowl down before flopping back onto the bed beside him, your eyes falling shut in a dramatic flourish.

Joel raised an eyebrow, his skepticism plain as he turned his head to look at you. “You want me to…?”

“Yes,” you said, cutting him off with a firm nod, your eyes still closed. “You. Me. Face mask. Now.”

“Fucking hell,” Joel muttered under his breath, pushing himself up onto his knees with a grunt. The bed groaned under his weight, but he paid it no mind, instead staring down at the bowl like it was some alien artifact. “What, I just… put my fingers in it?”

One of your eyes popped open, and the second you caught the unintentional innuendo, you burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room.

Joel froze for a moment, realization dawning as his lips pulled into a reluctant, crooked smile. He shook his head, groaning dramatically. “Christ, you’re dirty-minded,” he muttered, though the glint of humor in his eyes betrayed him.

“You’re the one who said it,” you teased, your laughter finally subsiding as you closed your eyes again, a grin still tugging at your lips. “Just spread it on my face, okay? It’s not rocket science.”

“Alright,” Joel said, his voice low and quieter now, tinged with something softer. He dipped his fingers into the bowl, hesitating for just a moment before shifting closer. “Stay still,” he murmured, his tone gentler than you expected.

“Hmm,” you hummed, relaxing further into his touch, the gentle strokes of his fingers soothing you like nothing else could.

“My gorgeous girl,” Joel murmured, his voice so low you almost didn’t catch it.

Your lips curled into a small, pleased smile, the warmth of his words settling in your chest. “Hmm,” you hummed again, teasing now. “Am I the prettiest girl in Jackson?”

Joel hesitated for just a moment, and then he leaned down, his lips brushing your temple with a featherlight touch as he whispered, “Prettiest girl in the damn world, baby.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a warmth blooming in your chest that made you feel like you might burst. “Joel,” you murmured, your eyes fluttered open, seeking his.

“Eyes closed, darlin’,” he said softly, his voice low but steady, a firm gentleness lacing his words. His thumb brushed against your cheek, the calloused pad grazing your skin so tenderly it made you melt.

You obeyed, closing your eyes again with a small smile, but you couldn’t help the way your lips curved up, warmth spreading through you from the way he spoke to you, the way he touched you.

He smoothed the last bit of the mask onto your forehead, his fingers moving gently, almost reverently. His eyes traced the lines of your face, committing every detail to memory.

“All done,” he murmured finally, leaning back just enough to give you space.

You opened your eyes, blinking up at him, and the look on his face made your breath catch. He was watching you with a softness that stole the air from your lungs, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Thanks,” you said softly, your voice almost shy now, the intimacy of the moment making your heart race.

Joel’s lips curved into that small, crooked smile of his, the one that never failed to make your stomach flip. “Anytime, baby,” he replied, his voice low and warm, as he set the bowl aside on the nightstand. Without hesitation, he plopped down onto his side of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he stretched out beside you.

A comfortable silence settled between you, the kind that felt easy and natural, until Joel’s brow furrowed slightly. He turned his head toward you, his expression equal parts curious and skeptical. “Now how long do we keep this shit on?”

You burst into laughter, the spell of the moment breaking just enough to make you grin. “Ten minutes, maybe fifteen,” you said, still giggling. “You’re already doing better than most.”

Joel huffed, shaking his head with mock exasperation, but the faint smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t really mind. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, leaning back against the headboard with a sigh.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased, settling beside him, your shoulder brushing his. His hand found yours without hesitation, his fingers curling around yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world

[moonlightdreamzz]

late nights — bang chan, hyunjin, wooyoung, and niki. ♡

it feels so good to be seen and loved, especially after an exhausting day.

bang chan

truthfully, you don’t even know how you made it here in one piece—here, being chris’ studio. utterly exhausted doesn’t even begin to cover it, but the day is finally over, and you’re holding onto that small grace. not like you have much of a choice, right?

your eyes flutter shut for just a second as you lean against the door, the light thud startling you back to the moment. you laugh quietly at yourself, embarrassed by how ready your body was to believe this was the end of the day, before finally pushing the door open.

you and chris share the same curse: you work too hard, and far too much. so, it doesn’t surprise you to see him exactly as you left him this morning—headphones on, hunched over his computer, eyes flickering across the screen. even from the doorway, you can hear the bass pumping loud enough to feel it in your chest.

you weren’t planning on saying anything. the couch beside his desk had your name written all over it, and all you wanted was to curl up and let sleep take over until he was ready to leave. but somehow, you find enough strength to call out to him.

“baby.”

it’s almost immediate, the way his head snaps toward you, his eyes softening as soon as they land on yours. it’s like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. his headphones are off in seconds, tossed carelessly onto the desk. that alone tells you everything—he must think you look even worse than you feel.

he doesn’t say anything, just opens his arms wide, inviting you in. and how could you ever say no to him? you drag your feet across the room, collapsing into his lap without a second thought. his arms wrap around you tightly, and for the first time all day, you feel like you can finally exhale.

“you had a long day, didn’t you?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear before pressing a soft kiss there.

all you can do is nod, burying yourself deeper into his neck. he smells just like he did this morning, warm and familiar, and it makes your chest ache in the best way. neither of you moves for what feels like forever, but it’s the kind of forever you could get used to. his touch says everything words can’t—how much he missed you, how much he hates seeing you this tired, how much he loves you.

you want to tell him you should go home, that you need a proper bed, but you can’t. you know how important his work is, and you’d never forgive yourself for making him feel guilty about staying.

but then his voice breaks the silence, low and soft. “i think i’m done for the night.”

your head snaps up, searching his face for any sign he’s joking. “no, baby. i’m fine. keep working,” you say quickly, even as your body betrays you and leans back into his chest. the guilt creeps up before you can stop it.

his thumb brushes your cheek, and his eyes lock on yours with so much tenderness it nearly knocks the wind out of you. “the only thing i want to do is go home, run you a bath, and hold you while you fall asleep. this can wait until tomorrow. you’re the most important thing to me, and i need you to know that.”

he kisses you softly, and when he pulls back, there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “besides,” he adds with a wink, “if i don’t take care of you, who’s going to remind me to take care of myself?”

hyunjin

you and your man were both terribly sleepy babies. no matter how hard you tried to stay awake for each other on late nights, one of you always gave in first. it was a routine by now: a simple “i love you” text signaling surrender to the pull of a memory foam mattress or an irresistibly soft couch. there was never any guilt, just understanding.

but this month? this month has been unrelenting. you’ve been in full girl boss mode, pushing through deadlines and back-to-back meetings, while hyunjin has been caught up in the chaos of a comeback. you can’t even remember the last time you sat down together for dinner, watched a show, or just existed in the same moment. you miss it. you miss him.

when his schedule was calmer, hyunjin stayed with you as much as he could. but now, the dorm has him locked down. as you punch in your door code, you sigh, already feeling the emptiness of your apartment. you wish he were here—even if it meant finding him passed out on the couch, mouth slightly open, barely coherent as you whispered him awake and tugged him to bed

tonight, though, there’s no detour. no lingering in the kitchen or collapsing on the couch. you head straight to your room, already peeling off your jacket as you close the door behind you. exhaustion weighs heavy on you, but something feels… off.

your heart stutters. someone’s here.

you freeze. open your eyes, idiot, you scold yourself. slowly, you do, and your breath catches in your throat

there, glowing like a dream, stands hyunjin. a bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, his smile stretching so wide his eyes crinkle shut. he’s radiant, like he stepped out of your imagination, but he’s real.

“baby,” you whisper, your voice trembling with disbelief. “what… how are you here? i thought—”

you don’t get the words out, too stunned to string them together. he steps closer, slow and steady, placing the roses and wine into your hands before cupping your face and kissing you, soft and sure. his lips feel like coming home

“i missed you,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm against your ear. “it’s been hell not being able to see you, touch you, hold you. i’ve been trying so hard to wait, but when i called you this morning and heard how tired you sounded… i had to be here. i couldn’t let you come home to an empty apartment tonight.

you melt into his arms, burying your face in his chest as his words sink in. “i knew it,” you say suddenly, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, a teasing smirk spreading across your face. “you really can’t stay away from me. i’m irresistible, huh?”

he bursts out laughing, the sound warm and rich, making his whole body shake as he leans his forehead against yours. “shut up,” he grins, but his eyes are so full of love you can feel it in your bones.

The he cups your face again, pressing his lips back to yours in a kiss that feels like a promise. this one is different—hungrier, deeper, filled with everything he’s been holding back. his right hand gently takes the flowers and wine from you, tossing them onto the couch as if they’re the least important thing in the world.

“you’ve been stressed too, baby,” you murmur between kisses, your hands sliding up his chest as he pulls you closer. “you want me to make it better? take your mind off everything?”

“please,” he breathes, the single word trembling with desperation.

and that’s all it takes for the two of you to let go of everything else—the stress, the distance, the long days apart. tonight, it’s just you and him.

wooyoung

i know that the last conversation we had didn’t end on a good note. and i know you’re still trying to process everything going on with us and probably don’t want to see me. but I can’t help but feel like you’re exhausted and need something to take your mind off of everything you have going on right now. regardless of what we’re going through rn, i love you and I’ll always be here to make things better.

your heart aches as you read wooyoung’s text.

i’m outside. take your time. i’ll wait for you.

you didn’t think you’d hear from him tonight—not after the way your last conversation had ended. but that’s wooyoung, always showing up when you need him most, even when things between you feel fragile and uncertain.

you grab your jacket and step outside, the chill in the air catching you off guard. but then you see him, leaning against his car with his arms crossed, his hair a little messy, his expression soft despite the exhaustion etched into it.

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it feels like the world stills.

without a word, he opens the car door for you. as you slide into the passenger seat, you feel the familiar warmth of his presence settle over you like a blanket. he gets in, shutting the door gently, and the two of you sit there, bathed in the soft glow of the dashboard lights.

“you didn’t have to come,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

he turns to you, his gaze steady, his hand already reaching for yours. “yes, i did.” his tone is quiet but firm, like he needs you to believe it

his thumb rubs gentle circles against your skin, and it’s enough to unravel the tight knot in your chest.

“i know it’s been rough lately,” he says softly, his voice thick with emotion. “but no matter what we’re going through, i can’t stand the thought of you sitting at home feeling this way. you don’t have to go through this alone. i’m here. always.”

you close your eyes, his words sinking into the deepest parts of you.

he leans over, pulling you into his arms, and it’s like you’re a piece of a puzzle snapping into place. his embrace is so warm, so full of everything he can’t quite say, and you don’t realize how much you needed it until you’re here, breathing him in.

“you’re freezing,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “i should’ve brought a blanket.”

you let out a soft laugh, your breath brushing against his collarbone. “you’re the blanket.”

he smiles against your hair, holding you a little tighter. “good. then i’m not letting go.”

for a long time, you just sit there, his arms wrapped around you, his hand gently tracing soothing patterns along your back. it’s so quiet, but the silence is full of him—his love, his care, his determination to make sure you feel safe, even when things between you aren’t perfect.

“thank you for coming,” you whisper after a while, your voice muffled against his chest.

“i’ll always come,” he replies, his lips brushing against your forehead. “no matter what’s happening. you’re my person.”

you pull back just enough to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, it feels like everything might actually be okay. whatever else you have to figure out, whatever else you have to say, you can face it together.

for now, this is enough. this is everything.

niki

the studio was quiet now, the kind of quiet that made you feel how tired you really were. your body ached, your mind felt heavy, and the only thing keeping you upright was the cool press of the mirror at your back.

you closed your eyes, just for a second, and let out a sigh.

“you always look like you’re about to fall apart after practice,” a familiar voice teased, pulling you out of your thoughts.

your eyes snapped open, and when you saw him standing there in the doorway, you actually laughed out loud.

“niki?” you said, your voice pitching higher in disbelief. “what the—how did you even get in here?”

he grinned, leaning against the doorframe like he owned the place, hands stuffed casually into his hoodie pockets. “i have my ways.”

“your ways?” you repeated, still laughing, though your exhaustion made it sound a little delirious. “what, did you sneak past security?”

he shrugged, his grin widening. “you’d be surprised what a little charm can do.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you muttered, shaking your head, though you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.

niki stepped into the room then, pulling a takeout bag from behind his back like it was some big reveal. “anyway, i figured you might be hungry. you were going on and on about this the other day, so…”

you blinked at him, your chest tightening. “you remembered that?”

niki rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of a blush creeping up his neck. “obviously. i’m not as clueless as you think.”

he walked over and sat down beside you, his legs stretching out across the floor. the bag landed in your lap, and the smell alone was enough to make your stomach growl.

“you didn’t have to,” you murmured, though you were already pulling the container out.

“yeah, well,” he said, leaning back against the mirror with a shrug, “i wanted to.”

you looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment, you forgot how exhausted you were. his face was calm, but his eyes were soft, like he was seeing you in a way no one else ever had.

“thanks, niki,” you said quietly.

he waved it off like it was nothing, but the tips of his ears were pink, and you knew him well enough to know what that meant.

“you worked hard today,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “but you always do.”

you smiled, but it felt bittersweet. “sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.”

niki’s gaze sharpened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “it is,” he said firmly. “you are.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and meaningful, and you didn’t know what to say. so you didn’t. you just opened the container, took a bite, and let the warmth of the food—and his presence—melt away the edges of your day.

he didn’t say anything else, just stayed there beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed when one of you moved.

and maybe you were both too scared to say it out loud, too scared to ruin whatever this was, but in that moment, you knew: he was your safe place. and maybe, just maybe, you were his too.

[princesseilish]

No buts

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader

Warnings: excessive whining, billie is mean?? reader is a brat, obvi

Synopsis: you haven’t seen billie “allll week”, it’s finally her off day, which usually consists of silence but, your trailer is small, over pink, and you’re just a brat

Billie dragged herself through the front door, every muscle in her body screaming for rest. She barely had time to remove her shoes before she heard Y/N’s whiny voice calling out from the living room.

“Biiilliiieeee,” Y/N whined dramatically. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting forever. You never take me anywhere.”

Billie paused, taking a deep breath to center herself before responding. She’d had a long day—one of those days where everything felt like it had piled up, and all she wanted was to sit in silence for a few hours. “I’ve been out, Y/N. I told you, I’m tired.”

Y/N didn’t care. She flounced over to Billie, face twisted into a pout, hands placed on her hips in a way that told Billie this wouldn’t be easy. “I don’t care,” she whined. “I’ve been sitting here all day, bored out of my mind. You promised me you’d do something with me today.”

Billie’s frustration flared, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve been working all day, Y/N. I’m not some damn personal assistant who’s at your beck and call.”

Y/N scoffed, clearly unimpressed. “Well, you should be. You’re my girlfriend. It’s your job to make me happy,” she shot back, her voice rising with bratty defiance.

Billie’s jaw clenched as she stepped closer, trying to keep her cool. “That’s not how this works, and you know it. I’ve been running on empty all day. The least you could do is—”

“You’re so selfish!” Y/N cut her off, stamping her foot in a huff. “I want to do something fun, and you’re just sitting there, acting like I’m bothering you.”

Billie’s patience snapped. “I’m not bothering you. You’re the one acting like a spoiled brat who can’t stand not getting everything she wants,” she shot back, her voice sharp. “I’m tired, and I can’t just turn it off because you’re throwing a tantrum.”

Y/N crossed her arms, still pouting. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’m just saying, I want you to care more,” she muttered, sticking out her lower lip. “You used to care. But now, you’re all busy and annoyed with me all the time.”

Billie took a deep breath, stepping back to put some distance between them. She was frustrated, but Y/N was pushing every button. “I do care, Y/N,” she snapped, her tone biting. “But you can’t just expect everything to be about you all the time. I need space, too. You’re being ridiculously demanding.”

Y/N’s eyes watered a little, and she dropped her arms to her sides, her voice now tinged with a whiny desperation. “You’re being so mean, Billie. I just wanted us to do something together. I don’t ask for much…”

Billie ran her hands through her hair, trying to calm down. She could hear the subtle edge of guilt in Y/N’s voice, but that didn’t excuse her behavior. “I get it. You want attention. But I can’t give it to you every second of every day. Sometimes, I just need a break.” Her voice softened, though the frustration still lingered. “And the whining… I can’t deal with it right now.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down her cheek. “You don’t want me anymore.”

Billie groaned, feeling the weight of her exhaustion mixed with guilt. She closed the distance between them and cupped Y/N’s face gently. “That’s not it, okay? I just can’t always be on your schedule. You need to learn that sometimes, it’s not all about you.”

Y/N sniffled, still clearly upset, but she nodded. “I just want to feel important to you,” she whispered, looking down.

Billie sighed, pulling her close and resting her forehead against hers. “You are important to me,” she murmured. “But you’ve gotta stop pushing me like this. I’m not some toy to entertain you whenever you feel like it.”

Y/N stayed quiet for a moment, and then whispered, “I’m sorry. I just… I hate when you’re mad at me.”

Billie sighed again, kissing the top of Y/N’s head. “I’m not mad, baby. Just frustrated. And you have to stop acting like everything is always about you.”

Y/N nodded, still clinging to her, and Billie couldn’t help but soften. “Next time, no more tantrums. Okay?” she asked, her tone more gentle.

“Okay,” Y/N mumbled, her voice small but sincere.

Billie hugged her tighter, knowing this wouldn’t be the last time Y/N pushed her buttons. But for now, she could at least relax and hopefully get some peace. Even if it meant tolerating a little bit of bratty attitude here and there.

[zyhkoo]

🦢 daddy issues

hurt/comfort, gn!reader, father issues

( jason wanted to protect you from your father. )

Jason was not good at comfort, it’s not something he’s used to doing. What else can he say? He can’t reassure the person it’d be just fine, he can’t fix the problem, he doesn’t know if what he's saying was right so what was he supposed to do? The best he’d do is to try and humor the situation a bit, or just educate the person he’s trying to comfort.

But there was one person he’d tolerate comforting, it was you.

You had issues with your father, he used to have some with his too, maybe a little bit now. He could empathize with your pain a bit, knowing that he experienced the same thing. It was another night, and another end of a patrol. Jason was hopping through rooftops till he saw your figure in a random fire escape. Jason raised a brow under his helmet, didn’t your patrol ended an hour ago?

You sat silently, staring into the night below you, a sigh escaping from your lips. A quiet and somber look on your face. You seemed to be lost in thought, not even realizing that Jason was there. He could tell something was wrong, he debated if he should call out your name to get your attention, or just keep quiet and stand on silent lookout.

“Hey,” he called out, his deep voice cutting through the silence of the night. "Shouldn't you be home by now," he asked, tilting his head at you. You looked behind you as you only tiredly smiled, “Well, yeah.” you confirmed as you looked back in the horizon. “I just don’t feel like going home right now.” you tell him.

Jason studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his mask. “You don’t wanna go home?” Jason repeated, a hint of skepticism in his tone, “Why, did somethin’ happen?“

He leaned against the railing next to you, looking at you with concern. You looked down at your hands as you fiddled with them, “I forgot that there was a family gathering earlier, dad couldn’t find me in my room cause I was well.. patrolling so he said I can’t come home tonight.” you explained to him.

You sighed as you rubbed your face, “I can’t just tell him I’m a masked vigilante. I can’t just ignore my duty either.” Jason could see the exhaustion on your face, you looked tired, both physically and mentally. .

He shook his head slightly as he looked off into the distance. “This is the life you chose,” he reminded you, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “You can’t expect to have both. You either dedicate yourself to this, or you stick with your family.”

He paused for a moment, then spoke again, his tone a little gentler, “You gotta decide what’s more important.”

“You shouldn’t stay out here all night,” Jason stated gruffly, “You’ll freeze to death. You shook your head, “No, no, it’s okay I’ll just go to the manor.” you protested.

Jason let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Stop being stubborn and just come with me,” he said, his tone gruff. He grabbed your arm and started to drag you down the stairs, “Wayne Manor is too far. You’re coming with me tonight, no complaints.”

Jason led you in another apartment, he cracked open the window and gestured for you to come in first. You sighed in resignation and climbed through the window. Jason followed you, hopping through the window almost effortlessly.

You found yourself standing in what appeared to be a small, modest apartment. There was a small living area with a couch and TV, a little kitchen, and a small hallway that led to a bedroom and a bathroom. It was sparsely furnished, looking like it only had the essentials for someone to survive.

You gazed over to the display case. You couldn't help but stare at the assortment of weapons, knives, and guns that were displayed behind glass. They were all in perfect condition, each one looked like it had been cared for, like a collection of works of art.

"Impressive, right?" Jason remarked, leaning against the wall as he followed your gaze, “They are.” you answered him.

“Right, you want a drink? Let me get you juice or somethin’ while you remove your armor.” Jason gestured to the couch before making his way to the kitchen. He looked into the refrigerator, trying to find something he thought you'd like. He found a bottle of strawberry milk juice, grabbed two glasses before pouring some for you and himself. He returned to the living room, handing you a glass.

You chuckled to yourself, “You drink this?” Jason looked at you, a slight scowl on his face. "Shut up," he grumbled, taking a sip of his juice. "Steph left it.”

"Can’t let it go to waste though," he grumbled, "Besides, I needed something sweet tonight." He watched your figure as you drank your drink. Your feet were curled up on the couch and your armor was placed on his table. He could tell by your eyes that your mind was clouding from thoughts. “You still thinkin’ about your dad?” he asked, breaking the silence in the room.

Your thoughts snapped as you looked at him, “A bit.”Jason leaned back against the couch, studying you for a moment before speaking up again. "Don't let it get to you," he said, "Family problems… they're a pain in the ass to deal with." You buried your head in your knees, “I just feel like I’m never good enough for my dad. He’s always dissatisfied with me.”

He knew that feeling all too well.

"I can tell you from experience, you’ll never be good enough for some people, no matter how much you try." he said, his voice low and gruff, "And for some, nothing is gonna change their mind." He reached out and gently placed a hand on your back, rubbing it comfortingly. "But you know what? You shouldn't let that get to you," he continued, his grip tight on your shoulder, "You're your own person; you don't gotta prove anything to anyone.”

“Why?” you murmured. "I don’t know, ‘cause life’s short," he said, removing his hand from your back and running his fingers through his hair. "You don’t want to spend it trying to be someone else instead of being yourself."

You sighed, “I can’t just.. deny something my father wants me to do the most.” you said “He gave me a roof, food, things— why would I repay him back by disappointing him?”

"You don't owe him anything," he responded, his voice firm, "Just because he gave those things to you doesn't mean you owe him everything in return. He's your father; he's *supposed* to take care of you." Your eyes darted to his, “Isn’t that what children are supposed to do? Repay their parent’s sacrifices?”

Jason scoffed at your question, shaking his head in disbelief.

"No," he said firmly, "Parents are supposed to sacrifice for their kids. It’s their job. Children aren't obligated to return the favors their parents did for them. Parents don't sacrifice so their children will be indebted to them forever.” You lifted your head up at him, processing what he said. Jason looked at you and caught your gaze.

He studied your face, seeing the pain and confusion etched into your features. He knew the feeling, he knew the guilt and the burden that came with trying to live up to someone else’s expectations and sacrifices. You looked away, “Sorry, it was just a mindset I had for a long time.” you said. He reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Don’t apologize," he said, his voice low and steady. "I get it. I’ve been there before, and I know how it feels." He felt a strange, unfamiliar instinct to protect you, to comfort you… to make sure you were alright. It was a feeling he had never experienced before. He took your half empty drink and placed in on the table. He set the empty glass aside and turned his attention back to you.

Jason could see the exhaustion in your eyes and the subtle slump in your shoulders. He knew you were tired, not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. You tiredly smiled, “Is it obvious? He nodded and let out a little chuckle, "Yeah, it’s pretty obvious," he said, "You look like you haven’t slept in days.” Jason stands up, “Come on, you can sleep in my bed. I got a spare shirt you can wear.” he said as he walked ahead.

Your eyes widen at his offer, you never thought he was the type to be that considerate.

"Are you sure?" you asked, following him as he led you towards the bedroom. He nodded in response, opening the door to his bedroom. The room was relatively clean, with a large bed in the center. He walked to the closet and started to search through it. After a moment, he found what he was looking for and pulled out a clean shirt. He handed it to you.

"You can change in the bathroom if you want," he said, gesturing to the small bathroom attached to his bedroom. You took the shirt from him and headed to the bathroom, changing out of your spandex. When you emerged, you found Jason sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you.

He looked up as you came out, his gaze sweeping over your figure in his shirt. It hung loose on you, the fabric soft and comfortable against your skin. He gestured for you to come closer. "Come here," he said, patting the space on the bed next to him. Jason reached out and gently took your hand in his, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

"Don’t let your dad’s bullshit get to you, alright?" he said, his voice soft and low. You sighed, leaning on his shoulder “Thanks Jay.” Jason could feel the exhaustion seeping out of you as you leaned into him. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. The feeling of protectiveness that he had felt earlier returned, stronger this time.

"Don’t mention it," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just get some rest, you’ll feel better in the morning." You lay down on the bed, the fabric of the sheets feeling cool and comforting against your exhausted body. Jason moved to pull the covers over you, making sure you were tucked in comfortably. He took a moment to study your face, seeing how weary and tired you looked.

Without thinking, Jason leaned in and pressed a soft, almost imperceptible kiss to your forehead.

As he pulled back, he cleared his throat and looked away. He hoped you didn’t notice the blush rising to his cheeks. He quickly stood up, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "You should get some rest," he mumbled, looking at you with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty.

You frowned, “Not gonna stay?” He was taken aback by your question, he wasn’t expecting you to ask him to stay. He was hoping you would’ve just fallen asleep. He scratched the back of his neck, looking away from your gaze.

"I don’t know... do you want me to stay?" he asked, his voice gruff. You softly huffed with a smile, “You already gave me a goodnight kiss. Why not?” He looked at you, meeting your gaze for a moment before answering. “Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled as he removed his jacket, revealing the skin tight black shirt underneath.

He slid into bed, lying down next to you. He kept his distance at first, but as you shifted closer to him, he instinctively wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to his side. He felt your warm body pressed against his, your head resting on his chest, your breathing steady and slow.

He couldn’t deny that this felt...good. Comforting, in a way he wasn’t used to. But as he lay there, holding you, his thoughts wandered to the implications of this situation. He knew you were friends, but there was something more to this, something he couldn’t ignore.

He cared for you, more than just a friend. And as he lay there in the darkness, with you in his arms, he couldn’t deny that he wanted more. Still, he knew better than to say anything. You were in a vulnerable state; he didn’t want to take advantage of that. He watched your face for a moment, the steady rise and fall of your breath indicating that you finally fell asleep.

The faint moonlight filtering through the window cast a soft glow over your face, illuminating your features in an ethereal way. He couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. He gently squeezed your body against his, holding you closer. The feeling of protecting you, of having you in his arms...

He knew he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.

🐇 hello everyone! i made a discord server! please make sure to reblog, let me know if you guys are interested in a part two.

[cripplecharacters]

I have a character in my sci-fi story who became disabled due to a sci-fi reason that’s extremely convoluted and hard to explain. But essentially he has weak muscles, chronic fatigue, etc, and is a full time forearm crutch user. However, the power he has (which caused his disability in a way) makes him essentially able to teleport short distances and eliminates some of his need to walk (he still can’t stand unassisted). I’m disabled but not a crutch user and it feels a little iffy to me. How do I go about this?

Hi!

As a crutch user I would LOVE the power to teleport even if it's only short distances! Walking really is exhausting. On high pain or high fatigue days if I could skip some walking that would be great. I don't think you have a problem with this character. He sounds like he is clearly physically disabled and just uses his power as an aid.

Mod Rock

Hello!

I'm a cane user and this sounds fine to me as well. I think it could be cool if there was some sort of limitation to his power so that he has a logical reason to also be seen crutching around rather than just teleporting, like using it making him more tired, or it having a distance limit or how often he can use it, something like that. And of course it would be great to have another character with a disability that affects their mobility that doesn't have the same power for variety.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[wandasaura]

okay but what was R’s best orgasm that happened last Christmas? 👀 from your latest fic

this is from two months ago… i have no idea what fic we’re talking about so i’m just gonna tell you about ducky’s best orgasm… so… i hope thats okay with you

well to start, it’s somewhat of a competition (war) in the maximoff-romanova household. natasha claims that from her perspective, she gives you the best orgasms. she will analyze the patterns in your behavior over the course of months, just so when the conversation gets brought up again — which it inevitably always does — she can clap back at wanda with admissible proof that physically, she provides the best orgasms. she will also never shy away from bragging about how you turn to absolute mush in her arms after a scene, how you come undone so beautifully and give yourself to her entirely. because while she’s trying to factually assert her superiority, she’s also just a lesbian fucking her girlfriend really good… like really good (verbatim what she screamed across the living room at wanda during one rehashing).

wanda doesn’t even bother to bring her own facts to the discussion despite knowing natasha will pry at her like she’s on the stand for murder, she’s so confident in herself that she lets natasha just argue at her, sometimes natasha’s been going at her with facts for something close to three minutes, and wanda will just get so fed up with her wife that she sets her glare on ducky, accent thicker than all hell, and simply remind ducky of her title, of how she’s mommy. poor girl folds instantly every time and natasha just stomps away in frustration, although she’s literally thinking about wanda gives her some of the best orgasms of her life… which then prompts her to think that she really couldn’t pick between ducky or wanda.

this is natasha’s roman empire actually. she’ll randomly be sending emails and will just sit there and contemplate how ducky and wanda give her pleasure in such different ways. in the soft moments she steals with ducky, ducky always gravitates towards her thighs, while wanda will take her time up top. and then she gets horny and ends up texting wanda, which then just leads to them all teasing each other and pissing each other off because all three of them are meant to be doing their actual jobs… i’m telling you it’s literally all in good fun though. they’re lawyers… i think they just have a fear of losing their skill if they stop arguing and rebutting… poor ducky actually, sometimes they’re just so… in it… she knows she’d never survive actually seeing them in action

but ducky! she is just like natasha when it comes to organizing the facts and fantasizing about fucking her girlfriends on the daily . she will tell you when the best orgasm of her life occurred specifically (because she’s the only one who actually knows how to directly answer a question, or rather, the only one who didn’t endure like seven years of law school and cannot be bothered with stupid banter), but she has three categories and events.the first category is natasha, the second category is wanda, and the third category is the orgasms when they do it together.

natasha’s best orgasm was in the winter time the semester after they extended the contract. ducky was stressed, exhausted, overworked, honestly you name it, the poor girl was it. she was at the point where she had so many things going through her mind, and she was so tired that she was energized. she was staying on campus because the workload was getting to be too much to balance with a commute and an internship, and in a few weeks she’d somewhat stopped communicating with wanda and natasha. they talked on the phone, sometimes they’d go up to visit ducky whenever their breaks aligned with a gap in her schedule, but she was so preoccupied with a million other things that she just couldn’t give them a piece of her. she barely was herself with the sleep deprivation and the stress. she turned up at the house at eleven, searching for wanda. she was an absolute brat to natasha, huffing and rolling her eyes, getting annoyed when she kept being told that wanda was busy — which she was. there was a major issue in a contract that needed immediate attention. definitely not the kind of thing they could delegate or allow to sit on a desk — but ducky just wasn’t getting it. natasha was full on daddy mode at that point, and after an hour of teasing and edging and spanking, she finally let ducky cum as wanda walked into the bedroom.

wanda’s best orgasm is on the shore. they’d both been woken up around the same time in the middle of the night and been unable to fall back to sleep before tourist season, and so they’d sporadically decided to make a trip down to the shore to make the most of their early start to the day to see the sunrise. all they brought was a towel… which it is not ducky, nor wanda’s, proudest moment that they got so caught up in a makeout session that wanda fingered ducky on a towel in the middle of a public beach (granted it was empty) at 3 in the morning. it wasn’t even the most physically overpowering orgasm, but it was the way wanda somewhat collapsed on top of her afterward and nuzzled her face into her neck, giggling and mumbling about they’d just acted like horny teenagers. it was a rare moment where it was only wanda with ducky. it’s so hard for wanda to let go of everything, of mommy, of lawyer, of dominant. she craves the control, the discipline, and she panics when she doesn’t have it, so she’s always compensating for something, trying to mask the vulnerabilities she doesn’t want known. ducky just felt so loved in that moment, she doesn’t care that wanda’s also eaten her out until she passed out… but it’s also definitely up there.

and the best together orgasm was on her birthday. they’d been teasing her all fucking day. like all day. wanda woke her up by fingering her, natasha then insisted on showering together and washing her body for her, which was just a lot of lingering touchy feely, and then wanda had laid her accent on thick all through breakfast, uttering the most sickly sweet near condensing praise out of nowhere. thats what really got ducky, was how they’d be having a conversation and wanda would just… absolutely melt her brain. and then at lunch natasha snuck up behind ducky, hugging her tight, and not so subtly grinding her strap into ducky’s ass. and then wanda AND natasha had been touchy feely annoying teases during dinner and the drive home. and then took turns fucking her when they got home. to the point where she was basically mush until the following afternoon? yeah ducky thinks about that a lot

anyways ducky’s actual answer is wanda. she refuses to admit this tho. wanda literally knows tho

[ikkyfics]

Beyond Words

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

Summary: “Tough day?” Remus asked, turning slightly to watch you more closely. You shrugged. “Kind of. Just… a lot of noise. I needed a little peace.” “Well, you came to the right place.”

Warnings: none

Masterlist

The night at Hogwarts was peaceful, except for the distant sound of conversations and laughter coming from the Gryffindor Common Room. After a particularly busy day, all you wanted was a moment of peace, away from the noise and distractions. So, you climbed the stairs toward the Astronomy Tower, where you knew you could find the silence you longed for.

When you opened the heavy door, the first thing you saw was a familiar silhouette sitting on one of the stone benches under the faint light of the stars. Remus Lupin. He was bent over a book, his brown hair falling softly over his forehead as his eyes scanned the pages. You paused for a moment, hesitating.

“If you’re going back to the noise down there, don’t even think about it,” he said without looking up from the book, but there was a playful smile in his voice.

You sighed lightly, crossing your arms. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to. I know you,” he replied, carefully closing the book and finally lifting his gaze to you. That warm, curious brown stare made your heart race every time. He smiled, the kind of smile that seemed reserved only for you. “Come here.”

Remus slid over to make room on the stone bench for you to sit. Despite your initial reluctance, you walked over to him, sitting down with a heavy sigh.

“Tough day?” he asked, turning slightly to watch you more closely.

You shrugged. “Kind of. Just… a lot of noise. I needed a little peace.”

“Well, you came to the right place,” he said softly, pulling something from his robe pocket. He held out his hand and, without saying anything, handed you a small piece of chocolate.

You raised an eyebrow, taking the treat. “You carry chocolate everywhere?”

“Of course,” he answered casually. “You never know when someone might need a little comfort.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head, but accepted the chocolate gratefully. The sweet and comforting taste was exactly what you needed. Silence fell over you both again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. On the contrary, it was the kind of silence that only someone like Remus could make possible—a silence where you could simply exist.

He opened the book again, but his attention clearly wasn’t on the pages. He kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, as if studying you.

“You’re staring at me,” you commented without taking your eyes off the starry sky.

“It’s because you’re beautiful,” he said without hesitation.

You turned your face toward him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “You never get tired of saying that, do you?”

“To tell the truth? No,” he replied, smiling with that calm way of his that made it impossible to stay mad at him.

You shook your head, trying to hide how fast your heart was beating. He had this way of making even the simplest moments feel special, like they were just for the two of you.

After a while, Remus closed the book again and set it aside. He turned completely toward you, resting his elbow on his knee while propping his chin in his hand.

“Did you know that this is my favorite thing about you?”

You blinked, surprised. “What?”

“This,” he said, pointing slightly at you. “The way you can turn any place into something peaceful. Even if the day was a mess, even if I’m exhausted… you make everything seem easier.”

“Me?” you asked, incredulous.

“You,” he confirmed, his brown eyes shining with sincerity. “Even the silence with you feels special.”

For a moment, you couldn’t say anything. Not because you didn’t know how to respond, but because it seemed impossible to put into words how much he meant to you. He was everything—a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, a constant in a world full of uncertainties.

“I… I like you too,” you finally said, your voice softer than you intended.

He smiled, the kind of smile that made the world seem lighter. “Well, that’s convenient, considering we’re dating.”

You huffed, trying to keep up the air of indignation, but the heat rising in your face and the corner of your mouth betraying a smile didn’t help at all. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I hear that a lot,” he replied, tilting his head slightly, the playful tone softening his expression.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the kind of silence that felt full of unspoken things, but things that didn’t need to be said. Then, before you could censor yourself, you let slip: “It’s just that you make everything seem so… easy.”

Remus raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Easy? Me?”

“Yes, you,” you repeated, feeling your face heat up even more. “You have this… thing. This way of making everything seem like it’s going to be fine. Even when it shouldn’t. It’s annoying.”

He laughed, that low, cozy laugh that seemed to fill the entire space. “I think that was the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”

“It was sincere,” you shot back, looking at the sky to avoid his gaze. “And don’t get used to it. I don’t do this all the time.”

Remus didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned a little closer until you finally turned to face him again. His brown eyes were shining, a mix of affection and something deeper that made your heart stumble.

“You know I adore you, right?” he said softly, the tone so sincere it almost hurt.

You tried to laugh, but the intensity of his words caught you off guard. “Are you sure about that?”

“I am,” he said without hesitation. “And I’ll keep saying it until you truly believe it.”

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his lips. It was brief, but sweet, the kind of gesture that said more than any words could. When you pulled back, you saw he was smiling again—that smile that was all his, soft and charming.

“Was that an argument?” he asked, the playful tone returning.

“Maybe,” you replied, trying to hide how nervous you were, but the smile on his face told you he knew.

He extended his hand, his fingers gently brushing against yours before holding them. The scars on his skin were rough, but the touch was gentle, almost reverent. You knew he didn’t like drawing attention to the marks, but to you, they were just another part of him—another thing to admire.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” he said, his eyes fixed on yours.

“Remus,” you murmured, feeling your face heat up again.

“I’m serious,” he insisted, intertwining his fingers with yours. “It’s not just the way you look at me, or how you can understand everything without me having to say anything. It’s how you pay attention to everything, like now. I see the way you look at me, and that… means more than you think.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump in your throat. “I… I just… really like you. A lot.”

He tilted his head, curious. “How much?”

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t escape. “Enough to think you deserve more than just this.”

Before he could respond, you moved closer again, holding his face in your hands. You ran your thumbs gently over the scars on his cheeks, looking at him with all the intensity you usually hid. “I really do adore you, Remus Lupin. Even the little, silly details.”

The surprise in his eyes lasted only a moment before it melted into something even softer. He held your hands, lightly kissing the palm of one of them. “Then we’re even.”

You laughed, but before you could say anything, he leaned in, kissing you with a sweetness that seemed to take all the air from your lungs. It wasn’t rushed or intense, but filled with a tenderness that said everything he felt.

When you pulled apart, he was still close, his forehead resting against yours. “You know there’s no turning back now, right? You’re stuck with me.”

“Am I?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, but you couldn’t stop the smile that escaped.

“Completely,” he replied, his smile matching yours.

And as you stayed there, tangled up in each other under the starlight, the world felt quieter, simpler—like nothing else mattered but the two of you.

[koiiiji]

hideout

summary ; before Jinrang end up in jail, and on his way to become head of busan, he used to hide in old, dirty hotels rooms, hen things went wrong. just like today.

author's note ; i just can't get enough of him, im sorry!!😭

rain hammered against the window of the tiny hotel room in busan, each droplet adding to the rhythmic sound that blanketed the city outside. the dim yellow light from the single bulb overhead flickered occasionally, casting uneven shadows across the peeling wallpaper. musty scent of old wood mixed with the freshness of rain, giving the space an oddly comforting yet oppressive atmosphere.

Jinrang leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you pace the room. the tension between you two was almost palpable, charged with an odd mix of your annoyance and his unspoken curiosity.

“one bed?” you hissed, spinning around to glare at him. your voice was laced with annoyance, though exhaustion was quickly dulling its edge. “of all the places to hole up, this is what you find? and with one bed?”

he shrugged, feigning indifference. “it’s not like we had a lot of options, you know. cops and half the gangs in busan are on our tails. be grateful i found a place with a roof.”

“a roof would be fine if i didn’t have to share a bed with you,” you snapped back, dropping onto the edge of the creaky bed. “you’re lucky i’m too tired to care right now.”

Jinrang’s smirk deepened. truthfully, he’d been thrilled when he saw the single bed earlier. he couldn’t deny the way his heart raced every time you looked his way. not that he’d ever admit it.

you eyed the bed warily. “and where are you planning to sleep? the floor?”

“why would i do that?” he replied with a grin. “it’s a big enough bed. we’re both adults; we can share without it being a big deal.”

you rolled your eyes, muttering something under your breath before standing up. “yeah, sure, of course...” you said sarcastically, still not believing he gonna sleep with you. “i’m taking a shower first. don’t even think about falling asleep before i’m back.”

Jinrang chuckled as you gathered your toiletries and disappeared into the cramped bathroom. the sound of water running mixed with the rain outside, creating a soothing symphony that he couldn’t help but relax to. faint patter of raindrops against the window blended seamlessly with the soft hum of the shower, filling the room with an almost meditative calm. but still, he couldn’t shake the image of you in the shower. it made him smile.

when you emerged, the steam from the shower followed you into the room, curling around your figure. Jinrang watched as you fished a spare shirt out of your bag, preparing to change right there in front of him.

“you’re not shy, huh?” he teased, propping himself up on his elbows.

you shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “turn around, idiot.”

with an exaggerated sigh, he obeyed, rolling onto his belly, so he was with his back now to you. “it’s not like i haven’t seen worse in the field.”

“doesn’t mean you get a free show,” you retorted, tugging the towel off and changing to dry shirt. when you were done, you cleared your throat. “you can look now.”

Jinrang turned, his dark eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than they should have. the oversized shirt you’d thrown on barely masked the weariness etched into your features, but to him, you still looked—

“what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “do i have something on my face?”

“nothing,” he said quickly, standing up to set his jacket on the back of a chair. “you should get some rest. we’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

your hair was still damp, clinging to the sides of your face, and your annoyance seemed renewed as you glanced at the bed again. “you’re still on about this sharing thing?”

“i’m not moving,” Jinrang said lazily, already sprawled out on one side of the bed. his large frame seemed to dominate the small mattress, taking precious little space. “come on, (y/n), it’s just one night.”

you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “if you snore, i’m kicking you off.”

“deal,” he said, patting the open space beside him. “now, hurry up before i take the whole bed.”

with a grumble, you slid under the blanket, keeping as much distance as possible between the two of you. or at least, you tried to. Jinrang’s broad shoulders and long legs seemed to take up every available inch of space, forcing you to edge closer. the mattress creaked under his weight, and his shamelessly sprawled posture made it clear he wasn’t about to accommodate your protests.

“why you are so fucking big?,” you muttered, elbowing him lightly. the warmth radiating from his body was impossible to ignore, and despite yourself, it felt oddly comforting against the chill of the rainy night.

“i can’t help it if i’m built like this,” he replied, amusement evident in his tone. “but hey, at least i’m warm.”

you let out an exaggerated sigh but didn’t argue further. the day’s exhaustion was catching up with you, and the rhythmic sound of rain combined with Jinrang’s steady breathing began to lull you into a hazy state. as you drifted off, you muttered something about personal space, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

Jinrang glanced down at you, noticing how your breathing had evened out and your features softened in sleep. the weight of the day’s events hung heavy in the air, but in this quiet moment, he felt an uncharacteristic sense of peace. the way your hair framed your face, damp and slightly tousled, made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“goodnight, (y/n),” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain.

for once, you didn’t reply with a sharp remark. and as his eyes slid shut, Jinrang couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the best hiding spot he’d ever found.

[riboism]

unconditional

》 pairing: husband! k.ys x wife! reader x c.sn

》 plot: as you and yeosang celebrate your 10th wedding anniversary, everyone around you sees the perfect marriage. but behind closed doors, the cracks have been growing for years—until a new experiment in the bedroom changes everything.

》 content: smut, cuckolding, marriage, blowjob, vibrator, reverse cowgirl, multiple orgasms, basically you and yeosang were struggling with a boring sex life and now yeosang can’t get off without watching you get fucked by san first 😗

》 wc: 3.5k

🎧 unconditional- jaehyun

Yeosang's company was known for hosting the most sophisticated Christmas parties, and this year was no exception. The venue—a charming little club perched on the bay—had stunning views of the waterfront. Through its large windows, the boats docked outside swayed gently, their twinkling Christmas lights casting soft reflections on the dark water. In contrast with the serenity outside, the atmosphere inside buzzed with great energy. Sounds of the live jazz band playing holiday hits hung in the air. Couples took to the dance floor, swaying along to the rhythm. Mid-level employees stood in clusters, clutching untouched glasses of champagne, their unease showing through their fake smiles as their senior managers approached with cheerful insistence to “join the fun,” though they would smile politely, nodding along while doing their best to sidestep the pressure to drink.

Aside from the approaching holidays, this year brought plenty of reasons to celebrate. It marked your husband’s 10th anniversary at the firm—a milestone capped with yet another promotion—and also a decade of marriage for the two of you.

“What a lovely couple,” his coworkers would often remark, adding with a chuckle, “our very own Barbie and Ken.” And then there was your least favorite comment of all, inevitably delivered with a mix of curiosity and tease: “Ten years? What’s the secret?”

If only they knew. 

“Ready to go, my love?” A deep, velvety voice hummed behind you. Yeosang’s hand slipped around your waist, his grasp firm as he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

To anyone watching, your marriage seemed picture-perfect. But the truth was, it had been unraveling for years. The frequent business trips, the endless arguments, and the slow creep of boredom had eroded the bond you once shared. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when things began to fall apart, but you both felt it: the dwindling attraction, the hollow excuses of “I’m tired�� or “I have an early meeting in the morning” exchanged like lifeless darts. The distance had grown so vast that you began to sleep in separate beds, the physical space only echoing the emotional chasm between you.

Despite it all, you still clung to the hope that things could be salvaged. It had taken months of pleading to convince Yeosang to try marriage counseling. But even after he finally agreed, progress felt elusive. Each session, with its endless prompts of “how does that make you feel?” only seemed to peel back old wounds and stir up more tension, leaving both of you raw and resentful. It felt a lot like trying to douse a fire with gasoline.

Then, a couple of months ago, your counselor suggested something unexpected.

“Have you two thought about spicing things up in the bedroom?”

At first, you scoffed at the idea. How could sex—a physical act—fix the emotional disconnect that had formed between you? How could it erase the resentment, the boredom, the loneliness, or the simmering anger? It felt shallow, almost laughable. But as the weeks dragged on, you both found yourselves at a breaking point, too exhausted to deny the truth: the spark you’d once had was gone. And maybe, just maybe, it was worth trying anything to get it back.

Anything. 

Little did you know, that seemingly poor advice was exactly the push you two needed. What started as a reluctant experiment turned into a rediscovery of the intimacy and connection you thought were lost forever. Bit by bit, the walls you had built began to crumble, and with them, the spark you once shared slowly reignited, flickering back to life.

Your hand reached around the curve of his back, rising on your tippy toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Let’s go.” 

—

Yeosang reclined in his reading chair, legs parted with an easy confidence, his posture relaxed yet commanding. His gaze locked onto you, steady and intent, filling the space with an unspoken tension. The room was filled with your soft moans and squelches from your sopping cunt as San rubbed a purple vibrator over your clit gently, a Cheshire cat-like smile enveloping his features each time you squealed over him. 

You laid across his bare chest, his strong, chiseled arms holding your legs open as he worked the toy over your sensitive spots. You liked San. Yeosang could tell. Though you've laid on this very bed with other men before, Yeosang noticed how well you responded to him compared to the others. He was undeniably attractive, yes, but the way you were with him—the excitement in your eyes, the way you rode him with such passion, letting out the prettiest, most lewd whines he’d ever heard—it was a done deal. Yeosang hired him as a gift for you, but it was more for him. San was his little plaything, a vessel for him to puppeteer. And you…well, you were just the main attraction. 

Yeosang reached for his scotch glass on the side table, taking a long, slow sip, his eyes never leaving you for a moment. “Higher,” he demanded. 

Without missing a beat, San pressed the little button on your vibrator, the increase in intensity making you gasp. You held in your screams, biting your lip until it was red. Yeosang frowned. He hated it when you did that. 

“Higher.” 

San pressed the button again. Your hands immediately grasped onto your sheets, the unforgiving buzzing between your legs becoming too much to handle. “Oh, fuck!” You choked, before pressing a hand over your mouth. Your eyes locked onto your core, unable to do anything but watch yourself be at the mercy of your husband and his puppet. 

Yeosang tsked, slouching back into his chair as if he were watching his favorite team losing on TV. “Get her hand off her mouth.” 

San did as instructed, pulling your hand away and holding it down so you wouldn’t be tempted to do it again. His chin rested against your shoulder, his lips parted in fascination as he watched your slick, wet juices coat the small toy. “C’mon honey,” he said in a low voice, “you know he likes to hear you.” 

The beginning of the night was always difficult, getting used to having two sets of eyes on you as you undressed, and it took time for you to get comfortable enough to make any noises. You had been doing this with San for a few months, but each time felt like the first. 

“Higher.” 

Before you could protest, San increased the speed, the sharp buzzing almost knocking you out. “That’s as high as it goes,” San grinned, gripping you tighter as you convulsed in his arms. 

“P-please, it’s too much!” You wailed, your abs tightening as you struggled to keep up. 

And then, there it was. Your sweet melody made Yeosang’s ears perk up, and he leaned over as if he were trying to hear you more clearly. “That’s it,” he said, almost approvingly, “now make her cum.” 

San pressed the toy harder onto your clit. You cursed and screamed, tears welling in your eyes as you grabbed onto San’s hand, torn between wanting to pull it off of you and wanting to hold on enough to meet your release. You knew it would make Yeosang happy if you held on, if you did whatever he wanted and did so obediently, but God, why did he have to make it so difficult for you? 

A rush of heat swept over you, leaving sweat to prickle on your skin. Gripping onto him, you chased that release, pushing forward until your legs finally gave way, surrendering to the overwhelming wave of relief you had been craving all night. Exhausted, you collapsed back against San’s chest, melting into his embrace, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your chest rose and fell, the relentless buzzing finally leaving your achy core. 

San caressed your thighs, his soft, pouty lips peppering light kisses on your neck, making his way to your jaw, until finally connecting with your lips. You kissed him lazily, still dizzy and tired from your orgasm to do anything more. 

As your lips moved with him, your eyes stayed open, locking with your husband’s gaze from across the room, where he remained seated in the far corner. Yeosang bit the skin around his thumb, watching you intently with a gleam in his eye. Kissing wasn’t part of the deal, not initially, though he’d never stopped you when you did. You did it deliberately, knowing it would get under his skin, knowing how much he enjoyed being riled up.

San’s lips pulled away from yours, his gaze shifting to Yeosang. “What now, boss?”

Yeosang paused for a moment, mulling over his options. He tapped his foot lightly against the carpet, contemplating what he wanted to see next. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, crossing one foot over his knee, signaling he had made his decision. “It’s a special night,” he said coolly, his voice laced with authority. “Let her decide.”

It was an unexpected request, one that placed all the authority in your hands. It was unlike him to relinquish control like this, and the sudden shift left both of you stunned. Their gazes—intense and unwavering—fell onto you, waiting for you to speak. The spotlight felt unbearably hot, and a wave of shyness washed over you, making it difficult to find the words to make a demand. But as your eyes met your husband’s, and seeing the soft, approving nod he gave you, something stirred inside. You couldn’t help but embrace the power now in your grasp.

—

Yeosang tried to hide his smirk, his fingers brushing lightly over his lips as he watched you in amusement. You were fixed over San’s lap as he sat up on the edge of the bed, just a few feet away from Yeosang. His hands were secured onto your waist as you pumped yourself over him, using all the strength you had left in your knees to hold yourself up. Of course, you’d choose this position, Yeosang thought. You didn’t choose reverse cowgirl just because you liked it—in fact, it was probably the most exhausting position for you—but more so because you knew it was the only position where Yeosang would be forced to see your pussy being parted over San’s huge cock. 

“Fuck, that’s so good!” You whined, letting out a few borderline pornographic moans out as you bounced on him. You leaned back into his chest, giving him access to your soft, needy breasts. San grabbed your breasts, taking a sensitive nipple into his mouth, and kneading the other with his free hand. You inhaled sharply as he nipped at your skin, head growing dizzy as he swirled his tongue while you fucked yourself dumb. 

“Such a tight fucking cunt,” San growled into your skin, “gonna milk me dry, huh baby?” 

You moaned in response, purposely widening your legs apart to make sure your husband got a good view. “Yes, want all your cum Sannie,” you breathed in that airy, sweet voice of yours that made Yeosang want to bite his knuckles off.

You knew exactly what you were doing, and Yeosang couldn’t help but applaud you for it. Seeing you like this—so perverse, so shameless—ignited a fire inside of him. It was this very fire, this surge of emotion, that had reignited the spark in your marriage. No, he didn’t invite men over to fuck you because he enjoyed getting cuckolded—in fact, he despised it. Took absolutely no pleasure in it. It all enraged him, watching you take another man’s dick so well, to cry over it, gag over it, and then beg for their cum in your pretty little mouth. No, if he could, he would pull San off of you right now and bash his head against the wall until he bled to death. But he held his composure and controlled the storm brewing inside him. Why? Because he thrived on that rage. It consumed him, a searing jealousy that only made him want you more. And you loved to make him mad. 

Your movements were unsteady, hips slowing down, your breathing getting heavier, whines growing needier. Yeosang could tell you were getting close. He gripped his hand on his growing erection, grasping it tightly as he watched you unfold. Your eyes locked with his again, crying out as you came all over San’s cock. That same fire that burned inside Yeosang began to ignite within you as well. You shot your husband a teasing look, torn between the desire to provoke him further and the irresistible urge to run to him, to let him consume you completely, to punish you for enjoying yourself too much. 

You hopped off his cock and lowered yourself between San’s legs, pulling off his condom and discarding it to the side before taking him into your mouth. San hissed, his lower half turning to mush as you bobbed on his length, swirling your tongue perfectly over his hardened tip. “Mmm…” you moaned, playing it up, as you massaged his swollen balls, each one tender with cum just waiting to spurt out. Although you couldn’t see him, you knew the tips of Yeosang’s ears were flaming red. 

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” San whimpered, before finally releasing himself into you. He moaned as his cock twitched in your mouth, eyes growing heavy as you swallowed every drop of him and licked his length clean. You gazed up at him, pleased to see his flushed cheeks and chest. You grabbed him at the base, slapping his tip on your lips, kissing in between while he shuddered from the touch. 

Suddenly, a hand gripped your hair, pulling you away from his length. You looked up at your husband, noticing the faint flush of red on his ears, a clear sign that the patience he had maintained all evening had finally worn thin. His gaze remained fixed on you, sharp and terrifying, as he addressed San without breaking eye contact.  

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” he said, his tone firm and controlled. “You may go now.” 

San muttered a curse under his breath as he got dressed, clearly annoyed by the abrupt dismissal. Normally, you’d let him shower before leaving, but Yeosang was impatient. He couldn’t wait any longer—he needed his moment alone with you.  

Now, with just the two of you left in the room, a tension settled in the air. Your gut tightened in anticipation, uncertain but exhilarated by what might happen next.

“Was I good?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you remained kneeling on the floor. Yeosang stood above you, his presence towering and commanding. He leaned down slightly, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, his touch both firm and gentle. 

“So good for me, doll,” he murmured, his voice soft and teasing as his thumb brushed over your cheek. You nuzzled into his palm, his warmth spreading through you like a comforting haze.  

But just as quickly as the tender moment settled, it shifted. His grip tightened, fingers tangling in your hair before he pulled you up with a firm, swift motion, guiding you onto the bed. The sudden movement sent a shiver down your spine, the change in pace leaving you breathless. Tears pricked in your eyes from the pain.  

His face was just millimeters away from you now, still holding onto your hair. “But you really pushed it, you know,” he said, his voice cool, but blowing with steam. “You really enjoyed yourself tonight, didn’t you darling?”

“You said I could-“

His free hand made it between your legs, fingers tracing over your achy, abused cunt. “Didn’t say you could suck him off though, did I? Or kiss him? You did that all on your own. You love having another man’s cock in your mouth, don’t you baby?”

You jutted your hips forward, still sensitive from your past two orgasms, but not failing to crave his touch. You tried to bite back a moan but failed. “Sangie…” 

He touched you so carefully, so delicately, the feather-like brushes only enticing you more. Your hand reached out for him, rubbing on his clothed bulge, begging him for more with your half-lidded eyes. “...please.” 

Yeosang chuckled softly, the sheer desperation in your voice alone making his knees weak. “Please what, baby?” he asked, his voice calm, too calm, a stark contrast to the fire simmering in his eyes. The measured tone sent another shiver down your spine, unsettling in its quiet intensity, as if he was daring you to bare everything to him. He knew what you wanted, your wetness over his fingers told him so, but he just wanted to hear you say it. 

“I want you. Only you.”

That was all he needed to hear. Those three simple words sent a rush through him, igniting something primal and deeply satisfying. Watching you indulge in someone else’s touch, only to come crawling back to him and beg for his cock fueled an intoxicating mix of emotions—he felt loved, wanted, important, and powerful. As twisted as it seemed, it served as a visceral reminder that no matter what, you could only truly be his, just as he would only ever be yours. And the truth was, you didn’t mind giving him that reminder, again and again, if it meant rekindling the fire that burned solely between the two of you.

And now, here you were, exactly where you longed to be all night tonight, with your head pressed against the mattress by Yeosang’s firm hand, and your cunt filled with his thick, angry cock, each hard stroke making you scream into the sheets. 

“Did it feel good, hmm? Fucking someone who isn’t me?” He said through gritted teeth, his grasp on your hair only getting tighter. 

You stayed quiet—well, as quiet as you could—too flustered to answer him fully. 

“Oh, don’t get shy now. You like it when I watch, don’t you baby? Like creaming on Sannie’s cock while your sweet husband's watching?” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, feeling the sudden harshness in his thrusts at the sheer mention of San. You knew he loved humiliating you, but you still felt an urgent need to make him understand. “Please!” You cried out, your voice trembling, “He doesn’t matter. I just want you. Want your cock, no one else—Fuck, I love your fucking cock!” 

Suddenly, the warmth of his cock left you, and he shifted himself onto his back, pulling your body onto him. He moved you so quickly, the sudden change making you dizzy and confused. “Yeah?” He panted, guiding his cock back into your wet folds. “Then show me. Show me how much you love my cock.” 

You lowered yourself onto him, your soaked cunt swallowing him up with ease. He could feel you shaking, your pussy so overstimulated, but still so determined to feel his cock paint your walls. “That’s it, baby,” he purred, his hands grasping onto your waist, “Show me…show me how much you love it.” 

Your hips rolled over him, rocking them back and forth jaggedly, so desperate to chase your climax and make a mess over him. You were so incoherent now, babbling utter nonsense through your dried-out, sore throat, the fullness of his cock being too much to bear. 

Yeosang thumbed your clit, eyes locked on your sticky, wet folds, completely mesmerized at how stretched out your tiny little cunt got. “Show me…” he whispered, pressing his thumb harder into you, helping you reach your high quicker. Your eyes fluttered shut, then rolled back, the overwhelming sensation of pure bliss washing over you and consuming every inch of your being. Yeosang was satisfied, watching you remove yourself from him, his cock glistening with your juices as it sat against your throbbing pussy. 

For a moment, the room was silent, his teasing demeanor giving way to something far more intense. Then, with a sudden, possessive motion, Yeosang pulled you down by your neck, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that left no room for doubt. You melted into him, pouring every ounce of longing and love into the moment, hoping it would be enough to show him the truth.

“I only want you,” you breathed against his lips, the words trembling with raw honesty as you refused to pull away. Yet, deep inside, that familiar shame and heartbreak began to creep in, just like it always did at the end of these experiments.

You weren’t entirely sure if you enjoyed any of it—if this was something you truly wanted. But that didn’t matter as much as seeing him happy, as much as keeping that flicker of connection alive between you both, no matter the cost. Though he had only been teasing earlier, you wanted to ensure he never forgot—no matter who entered this bedroom, you were his, and he was yours. Yeosang's fingertips trailed gently down your back, each touch making you feel warm and safe, wrapping you in a quiet reassurance. “I know, honey,” he murmured against your lips, his voice soft yet possessive. “No one can love you as much as I do right now.”

a/n: reblogs and feedback are appreciated

[thebigqueer]

"Was there never another ending?" - Caitvi - One-Shot

Summary: After the battle, Vi & Cait are resting in Cait's room and discussing the aftermath of the war. (inspired by "The Aftermath" by @qvert!) Word Count: 5440 Notes: CWs for sensual content (this lowkey borders being sexual but i wouldn't classify it as smut), mentions of blood & wounds. takes place after s2 act 3! Read on AO3

Vi wants to sleep. She’s been lying on Cait’s carpet for hours now, staring at the darkness behind her eyelids, but it’s been no use; it’s already early afternoon. No matter how exhausted she is, her blood is just humming too much to let herself sleep. 

It doesn’t help that Cait is next to her, hooked up to all those tubes and bags of fluid. Cait’s been released from whatever operations her father wanted to do on her since the battle, and she’s been resting on a makeshift mattress against the window of her bedroom, at her own request. Vi asked her earlier why she didn’t just want to stay on her bed, which would probably be the more comfortable option, but Cait shook her head as Vi helped her onto the mattress. “I just want to wake up to the sun in the morning,” she muttered. She offered that Vi stay on the bed, but they both knew the offer was going to be futile. After all that had happened in the past few hours, the very thought of spending a moment outside of each other’s peripheral felt dangerous. 

“You can lie next to me,” Cait suggested before drifting to sleep. “Why sleep on the floor?” 

Vi wanted to take her up on her offer. But she glanced at the tubes, and even though in any other circumstance she would have given in gladly, she knew that she’d be risking too much by taking up that space on Cait’s mattress. She didn’t want to accidentally rip out the tubes or kick Cait in her sleep. So she shook her head, brought over a pillow from Cait’s bed, and laid herself across the carpet. 

Cait narrowed her eyes at her, but her exhaustion quickly whisked her off to sleep. 

That conversation was during the night. Cait’s woken up a few times since then, each time with a jolt, followed by franting swiveling as she looked around her surroundings. But every time her gaze found Vi’s, she relaxed and let herself ease into her mattress again. At one point, she held her hand out, and Vi reached for it.

She hasn’t let go of it since. It’s the only thing keeping her anxiety at bay, knowing that Cait’s in her reach. 

Now the sun shining through Cait’s windows makes Vi’s eyelids glow in a warm orange, and she frowns in frustration. She wants to sit up and talk to Cait, but she’s not sure whether to shatter their silence just yet. Vi knows she’s not sleeping, though. She’s been playing with Vi’s fingers for the past hour or so, tracing the lines against her hand. 

“Can’t sleep?” whispers Cait, and Vi opens an eye at her voice. The sun splits through the window and arcs around Cait’s head, forming a slight blue halo around her, and Vi’s heart skips a beat at the sight. She’s lying on her stomach, face against the mattress as she looks down at her. If Vi was tired before, Cait’s voice evaporates any sort of exhaustion from her limbs. 

“It’s a little bit hard when someone’s playing with my hand.” Vi smiles up at Cait, then opens the other eye. She runs her thumb over Cait’s, feeling the coarseness of her knuckle under her fingertip. “How could you tell?”

A slight pink blooms in Cait’s cheek, and Vi’s almost surprised at how innocent she looks. “Your eyelids keep twitching. And your breathing is uneven.” Then Cait winces. “I’m sorry. I should let you rest.”  

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t able to anyway.” Vi pushes herself into a sitting position and scoots closer to the mattress, and Cait shifts herself a little to make room. Vi lays an arm on the mattress and leans her head against it as she looks at Cait. “Can’t sleep either?”

Cait huffs a humorless laugh. “It’s a miracle I was even able to dream.” 

Vi hums in sympathy. She glances at the bandage wrapped over Cait’s eye, blooming with a faint red ring, and brushes her thumb against her forehead gently. “How’s the pain?”

“All right.” Cait attempts a shrug, then winces. “Better than earlier.” 

Vi offers a grudging nod, then brings her gaze to the bandages wrapped around Cait’s torso. Guilt pulses in her chest, and she lays a gentle hand against the gauze, feeling the roughness underneath her fingers. “When was the last time you changed these out?”

“I think I’m actually due for a change.” Cait raises an eyebrow at her. “Mind helping me do the honors?”

Vi gets to her feet gratefully. At least now she has somewhere to put her restless energy. She makes her way to the supply cart that Cait’s father set up at the foot of her bed and wheels it closer to the makeshift mattress. When she returns, she’s surprised to find Cait lying on her back now, her head tilted towards Vi. The sunlight streams in a green hue through the window and spills over Cait’s body, and, despite herself, Vi’s eyes catch on Cait’s bare chest. All she’s wearing is sunlight and the bandage holding her together. 

Cait raises an eyebrow. “You’re staring.” 

Vi can’t help the smile that erupts over her face. She doesn’t even have time to bite it back before Cait sees, so she chooses to embrace it instead. “My bad. Got a little distracted.” 

“I can wear a shirt if you’d like.”

“No!” Vi’s adamance makes them both flinch, and Vi blinks in surprise. “I mean, no, it’s fine.” She meet’s Cait’s eye, and her chest heats at the sight of her gaze, so full and bright and curious. “It’s just… I like that you’re comfortable with me.” 

“But you’ve already seen me half-naked.” A playful smile dances in Cait’s good eye. “I didn’t take you to be the shy type.”

“I know.” Vi shrugs. “But I don’t just mean that. I guess… I don’t know. I’m glad that you trust me to see you like this, like it’s an everyday thing. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world for me to wake up to you half-naked.” Before Cait can respond, Vi holds her hand out. “Let me help you up.” 

Cait grips her hand, and Vi wraps her other arm around Cait’s back to ease her into a sitting position. She hisses with each movement, but they eventually have her propped up, although slightly pale. Vi pats Cait’s knee gently as she catches her breath. When some of her color returns, she looks at Vi with incredulity in her eye. “I don’t know how you even managed to survive that wound to your body,” she croaks out. “This is horrible.” 

Vi smiles slyly. “Now we’re twins. Ready to take the bandage off?”

Cait’s eye closes as she takes a deep breath. “Yes.” 

Vi picks at the end of the tape and pulls as gently as possible. Once it unsticks from the rest of the material, she begins unraveling it from Cait’s body. It’s a tauntingly slow procedure, one that consists of a lot of cursing and lip-biting and eye-scrunching on Cait’s part, and Vi feels guilty every time Cait flinches. But eventually the gauze comes off, and Cait’s wound stares back at Vi, gaping red and festering. 

Now it’s Vi’s turn to flinch. “Yikes.” 

Cait’s face is scrunched in pain. “Don’t say that.” 

“Sorry. I mean, wow, your wound is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Despite her pale color, a sparkle of amusement twinkles in Cait’s eye. “Shut up.” 

Vi throws a grin at her, then tosses the old bandage on the ground. She grabs a washcloth and a bowl of water from the cart, submerges the cloth in the water for a moment, then wrings it out and holds it in front of Cait. “This is probably going to sting a little more.” 

Cait sighs heavily. She stretches her arms behind her to hold herself against the pain. Her head tilts back as a frown paints itself on her features, and in the sunlight, her neck flashes. 

Vi forces her gaze to stay on the wound, if only to distract herself from how beautiful Cait looks right now. She gently dabs, and it takes a while for her to clean out some of the dried blood. Cait’s body scrunches against the sting, and each twitch of pain makes Vi twitch in sympathy, but she keeps going until the dried blood is cleaned away. 

It feels like an eternity before she’s done cleaning it out, but eventually she throws the cloth - now painted in a faded red - to the ground. She reaches for a roll of gauze from the cart, then sits back down to face Cait, who looks even more worn out now. 

“Last part,” Vi says, then gently brushes her hand against Cait’s knee. “Do you want to eat anything? I think your dad left some food.”

“I don’t even know if I have it in me to eat today.”

“I don’t blame you. Ready?” 

“No.” But Cait clutches her mattress again, and a new determination comes over her. 

Vi meets Cait’s eye, tilting her head to make sure she’s really ready, and Cait offers a slight nod. Vi starts by leaning forward and reaching her arms behind Cait’s back. She moves slowly, trying to be as gentle as possible as she wraps the gauze around and around. Cait only flinches a few times, which Vi considers as progress. She can feel Cait shivering against her every time she pulls in close, and despite the circumstance, a heat flickers in the pit of her stomach at the feel of her skin, warm and humming in her arms.

Finally, the gauze is thoroughly wrapped around Cait’s waist, and Vi uses the scissors on the cart to cut through it. As soon as Vi sticks it together, Cait releases a shuddering breath.

Vi’s about to ask if she wants to lie down again, but Cait beats her to it as she slowly crawls herself back onto the mattress. As soon as she hits the bed, a sigh of relief escapes her, and she presses the back of her hand to her forehead. A gentle silence falls over them as Cait steels herself against the releasing pain.

Vi watches her breathe for a moment. The sunlight soaks her body again, and even though she’s still a little pale, everything about Cait seems so vibrant in the light. Vi’s gaze travels up to the bandage over her eye, and she reaches out to brush Cait’s forehead again. When Cait opens her good eye in response, Vi gestures to the bandage with her chin. “How do you really feel?” she murmurs.

Cait shrugs. “It’s going to be difficult to get used to having one eye. And I’m sure I have some sort of concussion. But all that matters to me right now is that I’m alive, and that Ambessa didn’t get my good eye.” 

Vi nods. Then she nips at her thumb to hide the twitch in her lips. “I know this is the least of your worries,” she muses, “but I think the one-eye look is gonna look so hot on you.” 

Cait fixes Vi with a raised, playful eyebrow. “I’m glad you have your priorities straight.” 

“Of course I do.” Vi meets Cait’s eye again, and they both giggle. But the laughter slowly dissipates into quiet again, and soon the only sound in the room is of their breathing. 

In this new silence, Vi’s eyes trace Cait’s body. She starts at her face, radiant in the sunlight, then rolls over her neck, over her bare chest, down her abdomen. It’s kind of amazing the way Cait almost commands the light to fall on her. Her gaze catches on every scratch and gash and bruise on her body, and, impulsively, she reaches out and brushes her fingers over each blemish. Even bloodied and battered, she somehow has a way of stealing the beauty from the room.

She has the look of a warrior.

Vi drags her fingers down her bandages. The gauze is rough under her fingers, and she zigzags gently down the surface, until her touch lingers over the same place where Cait’s wound is. Then she retraces her steps, runs her fingers back onto the bare skin over Cait’s abdomen. Vi can feel the shiver in her skin as she breathes, and she swears her own fingers are glowing. She flicks her eyes up at Cait again, and when their gazes connect, Cait releases a breath and closes her eye, accepting Vi’s touch. 

So Vi keeps going. Her fingers follow the trail of Cait’s muscles to her sternum, and the motion gently tugs Vi forward, too. Cait’s ribs rumble underneath her fingers, like sharp hills on her body. She risks another glance at Cait, whose blue eye pierces her once again, but now there’s an ease in it, as if she’s floating. 

Vi brushes her fingers over Cait’s heart, and Cait’s breathing shallows the barest inch. Vi takes this as her permission to lay her lips on her sternum, and the scent of violets overwhelms her. She closes her eyes, trying to permanently memorize Cait solely through her fingertips. Her lips drag down Cait’s body, leaving kisses against every bare inch of skin that she can, but she stops just above her bandages. She looks up again to meet Cait’s eye, to make sure she’s not hurting her. Cait only looks curious, like she’s eager to see where Vi goes with this. 

Vi flattens her fingertips a little more against Cait’s chest, so that the curve of her breast just barely fills Vi’s palm, and she traces her kisses up Cait’s sternum again. Then she shifts herself closer to Cait’s body, cupping her other hand against her waist to hold her better, and leaves kisses against the rising part of Cait’s breast, up into the dips of her collarbone, into the crook of her neck. Cait sighs and tilts her head, inviting Vi in. Vi takes her hand on Cait’s waist to the other side of her face, brushes her thumb against her cheekbone, savors the heat of Cait’s flush between her fingertips. She’s so close that she can feel Cait’s chest rising into her own each time she breathes, and the feeling sets her heart on fire. 

Vi pushes her fingers under Cait’s chin and forces her head to tilt just a little bit more, then lets her bottom lip trail against Cait’s jaw, runs every bruise and knick under her lip, tastes her skin humming, until she reaches her final destination: Cait’s lips. Cait parts her lips a little wider, and as Vi finds her way in, Cait traces one hand over Vi’s back, up her neck, into her hair. Her fingers cradle Vi’s head so gently, and a tingling warmth erupts at the pit of her core, like a match just ignited. Her touch is a wildfire against Vi’s skin, and Vi swears her heart’s about to break out of her chest.

Vi tries to sigh, but it barely gets anything through because each time Cait scrunches her hand, another wave of desire steals Vi’s breath away. The hand on Cait’s face glides down her body again, this time with more purpose as Vi presses her palm against the side of Cait’s breast.

Cait’s neck arches at the touch. 

Then Vi pulls away, and Cait blinks up at her, a daze buzzing in her eye. 

Vi looks at Cait from here, watches her brow furrow in irritation. She tugs Cait’s bottom lip with her thumb, and another pinch of desire makes her want to dive right back in, but there’s a weight beginning to settle in her chest that pulls her back. Something about being this intimate right now, after everything that’s happened, feels… wrong.

She looks up and glances at the tubes still connected to Cait. She looks at her feet and spots the old bandages on the ground. She doesn’t look out the window, but she can hear some shouting every now and then as the world tries to rebuild itself outside. 

Then she looks down at Cait again, and just as she expected, the world drowns itself out of her peripheral. She just wants to stare at Cait like this for a bit, memorialize the view of her in the light. Before the sun disappears.

And suddenly Vi realizes why she feels so off. All that destruction outside, and here they are, keeping themselves in this little bubble. 

“Careful,” Vi says finally, and the way Cait’s brows dig deeper into her frown makes her smirk. “Can’t have your wound opening up again. We need you up and running, Commander.” 

Cait releases a huff. “Don’t call me that,” she mutters, but there’s barely any fire in her words. Her hand in Vi’s hair glides down, down her neck and down her shoulder and down her arm. Her fingers whisper over Vi’s bicep, and Vi watches her gaze run over her arm, one finger carving over the lines of her muscles, then tracing her tattoos. Even though it was Vi doing most of the kissing, something about her touch feels more intimate than anything they’ve ever done together, like she's trailing promises against Vi’s skin. She closes her eyes and lives in the touch. 

“How are you feeling?” Cait murmurs now. Her voice is soft, like sweet clouds against Vi’s ears, and behind her closed lids, Vi can almost pretend she’s floating. 

“Probably better than you.” Vi opens her eyes and runs her hand against Cait’s bandages gently. But there’s a subtle weight in her words, and Vi knows that wounds are not what she’s talking about. 

As if reading her mind, Cait drops her fingers from Vi’s arm to her hand, holding on a little too tight, and Vi’s throat aches all of a sudden. “Seriously, Vi,” she insists, running a thumb against her knuckles. A beat of silence passes, and then she whispers, “I want to know what happened.”

Vi looks down to watch her touch, and with every motion she makes, Vi’s chest grows heavier. 

After a moment of hesitation, a long sigh drags out of Vi, like a snake that’s been coiled up in her chest. A new exhaustion falls over her, and she drags herself onto the ground again, knees pressing into the soft carpet underneath her. She crosses her arms against the mattress and drops her head into them. In response, Cait turns to her side, folding her arm underneath her head as she watches Vi, her good eye filling with overwhelming concern. 

“She’s gone,” breathes Vi. “Her and my father.”

She surprises herself by the casualness of her tone, like this is an everyday occurrence. And maybe it is. After all, hasn’t she been practicing this line for months? She’s been practicing it ever since she first met Jinx, when everyone was trying to convince her Powder had died. 

But it’s only now that it’s become true. 

If Cait’s surprised by the news, Vi can hardly tell; the only difference is in the way her eyebrows cower together in the middle. “I heard,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry, Vi.”

Vi looks at her through her lashes, then points her gaze down to the foot of the bed, to the blanket cowering at Cait’s feet. She shrugs. “I guess it’s probably good news for you, though.” 

She almost regrets the words as soon as they come out, because she knows it isn’t fair to Cait, not now. But she can’t help it; it’s a thought that’s haunted her ever since the night of the attack.

Jinx’s missile had been bad enough; the attack at the memorial was Cait’s breaking point. She had narrowed her gaze on Jinx so easily, like suddenly the rest of the world didn’t exist. And Vi understood - sympathized, even - but watching Cait’s every working thought narrow in on Jinx like she was just another one of her sniper targets made Vi’s skin prickle. Jinx became a shot she refused to miss, and even though Vi told Caitlyn - told herself - that Powder was gone, the thought of watching her sister die at Cait’s hands made her stomach turn with every step closer to Jinx. 

What made her even sicker was the fact that she’d followed so blindly. 

Cait releases a deep sigh, but she stays quiet for a moment. And Vi’s grateful for that; right now, all she really wants is silence. Maybe it’s not fair to Cait, but maybe she wants her to sit in the implications of her words anyway. 

Maybe she wants them both to sit in the weight of their mistakes. 

“I don’t think it’s good news.” The gentleness in Cait’s voice surprises Vi, though she doesn’t really know why. Vi turns her gaze back at Cait, only to find that Cait’s own focus has shifted to the foot of her mattress as well. “I know Jinx and I have never seen eye-to-eye, but… things are clearer to me now.” Cait closes her eye, and Vi wants to reach out to touch the crinkle that appears between her brows. She doesn’t, though. “I don’t think she was ever the villain. I think I made her out to be one because… because I wanted someone to blame. I think she was… a product of failed dreams. A victim of her environment.” Then Cait meets Vi’s gaze. Her eye shines with so much sincerity, so much fear, that it makes Vi want to eat her own words. “An environment that I regret ever playing a part in.”

Vi begins to draw circles against the mattress sheets. She’s quiet for a moment, and the silence feels heavy on her shoulders, like a weight pressing over both her and Cait. The weight of responsibility, of truth. 

“I guess it just feels a little stupid.” Vi shrugs. “It felt like every move I made with either of you, I was making the wrong one. Like any time I tried to protect one, the other would always be pointing a gun at me. There was just no winning. But now Jinx is gone, and the game’s over, and I failed to protect her or save her, and it’s just… What was all my fighting for? If she was just going to drop out like that, what did I fight for all that time?”

Vi closes her eyes, and when she does, all she sees is the glow of the Hexgates beneath her, almost beautiful, blue as Jinx’s hair. Powder’s hair. And she sees the light in Jinx’s eyes, almost violet, as she looked up at her, an eerie peace solidifying in her irises.

Always with you, sis. That smile, soft and subtle and beautiful. Her Powder, in a different body. Her Jinx, in a new form. 

And then she fell, the distance between them growing stronger with every passing second. 

“I don’t think you failed, Vi,” Cait says, and her voice an anchor on Vi’s thoughts; she finds her gaze swimming back to the present. “I wasn’t there when she died, but if there’s anything I’ve seen from the few times I’ve seen you together…” Cait blinks a few times, as if trying to clear her vision. “You have such a deep bond. Even after all that time, even after everything you’ve done to each other and have been through, you loved each other. I saw it in the way you protected her in that explosion at the camp. I saw it in the way Jinx gave herself up without any hesitation - she thought it was going to save you.” Cait’s eyes harden in thought, as if trying to piece together a puzzle, and the sight of her frown makes Vi almost want to laugh. If there’s anything Cait loves doing, it’s finding answers. “I don’t think her decision to fall was you failing to protect her. Maybe it was her trying to repay the favor. Maybe she was protecting you.” 

Vi considers this, frowning. “Well, she did a pretty shit job. Nothing’s going to protect me from the guilt of knowing she sacrificed herself for me, all because I was stupid enough to think Vander was still in there.” Vi’s eyes prick with tears, and against her will, her chin begins to tremble. “That’s just my problem. I don’t expect people to change.” Vi lets out a shaking breath, trying to ease herself out of a sob. “But they do. They always do.” 

Then she meets Cait’s gaze, and Cait’s eyebrows rise in both concern and regret, and Vi is suddenly hit with a wave of dread. Her thoughts flicker back to that moment in the sewers months ago, the two of them leaning against the wall, warm in the chill of their surroundings. How sincere Cait looked. How hopeful Vi had been. 

And she knows Cait’s thinking exactly what she’s thinking. 

The air around them hangs heavy and dense, and Vi’s shoulders burn under the weight of the moment. She knows what she’s implying, and she knows she has Cait backed into a corner. Suddenly the world around her feels darker, smaller. Like she’s back in her prison cell. 

“I don’t think change is something you can stop,” Cait says, and the way her voice wavers, Vi knows she’s trying to tread cautiously. The distance between them, though minimal, feels too deep and treacherous. “You’re talking about change as if it’s your fault people change. But it’s not, Vi. People change for a lot of reasons. For love. For a greater cause. For grief.” Cait’s eye closes and takes a deep breath, and Vi knows she’s thinking of her mother. “I don’t think it’s stupid for you to hold onto hope for people. If anything, I think it shows how big your heart is. You look for the good in everyone, especially those you care about. That’s a strength a lot of people don’t have.” Cait frowns. “It’s a strength I didn’t have, and look where it landed us. A war on our front step.” 

Vi narrows her eyes and points her gaze at a loose thread of the sheet. She picks at it. “Was it strength when I thought Vander was still in that… that body? If I had just moved like Jinx told me to, she wouldn’t be gone now.” 

Cait’s gaze moves past Vi, to a spot above Vi’s head, as if looking for the answer behind her. She’s quiet for a few moments, and with each passing second, Vi’s heart feels heavier in her chest.

“Jinx made her choice,” Cait says finally, bringing her gaze back to Vi’s. “I know this is so much easier said than done, but you can’t blame yourself for what she chose to do.” 

“Was it really a choice, though?” Vi’s brows furrow, and she can feel the tears burn against her throat again. “I didn’t really give her much of one. I was the one just standing there. If she hadn’t shoved Vander away, it would’ve been me falling instead.” Vi blinks, and for a fleeting moment, she imagines it: her in Jinx’s place, falling right down with Vander. Her being the one to hold onto him. Sure, she would’ve died - but Jinx would’ve been saved. And now a tear slips out. “It should’ve been me.” 

“At what cost?” Cait asks, and the adamancy in her voice makes Vi flinch. It must surprise Cait, too, because she blinks as if the voice wasn’t even hers. Then her eyes soften, and she reaches out and threads her fingers through her hair. The touch brings some semblance of calm over Vi, and she closes her eyes. “You can pretend that sacrificing yourself would have made things better, but they wouldn’t have, Vi. If it was you who fell, I don’t think Jinx would have been able to handle it.” Cait’s brows furrow. “Ekko told me she was about to commit suicide before he convinced her to come. If you had been the one to go, I think that would have just sent her over the edge. I have no doubt she would have jumped right after you and Vander.” Cait tilts Vi’s chin closer gently, urging her to look at her. “Think about it like this. If you had been the one to fall, who, exactly, would you have been saving?”

Vi narrows her gaze at a spot on the mattress as she considers it. She knows there’s some truth to Cait’s words - Jinx might have followed her down. And, for a brief second, an eerie calmness falls over Vi at the thought. At least then we would have been a family again, she thinks selfishly. 

Maybe Cait has a point - maybe there was never going to be a good ending. Someone was going to die at that moment. But still - the regret has been burning a hole through Vi for hours now. 

Was there never another ending? Another future?

For some reason, the question makes Vi’s chest burn with rage. Cait’s asking too much, suggesting too much. Her fist slams into the ground, so hard it shakes the floor around them, and her face falls into the mattress. Her knuckles pulse with pain, and that pain bounces all the way back into her heart and transforms into a sudden wave of desperation, and a sob explodes out of her, so painful she’s convinced her chest has cracked open in half. The fabric around her becomes wet as her tears come pouring down. 

“It’s so unfair,” she seethes, her words muffled by the mattress. Her voice catches in her throat, and another sob cracks her chest like lightning. “All that waiting… all those years wasted in a prison, telling myself that I’ll find her or die trying. And the moment I do… She just fucking leaves.” Her sobs fall easier now, as if some coil in her chest has been released. “It’s not fair.” 

Cait doesn’t say anything, and Vi’s grateful for it. The silence gives her the space for her grief, and she takes every inch of it that she can. In the vicinity of all the high walls and empty space of Cait’s bedroom, Vi’s ears echo with every sob that racks her body, and each echo sends another wave of devastation through her heart. It turns into a vicious cycle of grieving and listening, grieving and listening. 

Then Cait’s hand touches her own, and Vi tilts her head to look at her. Her heart cracks even further at the glistening in Cait’s own eye and the sucking of her bottom lip, as if she’s trying not to break for Vi’s sake. Cait’s thumb rubs over Vi’s bruised knuckles, and even though she feels hollow and exhausted right now, the motion still brings a sense of comfort through her. 

Cait leans forward and kisses Vi’s head, slowly, softly. And when she pulls back, she brushes her thumb over Vi’s cheek.

Even though she doesn’t say anything, her touch feels like an apology. A promise. 

And Vi’s tears come hotter than ever.

Vi’s not sure how long she’s sitting there, ruining Cait’s sheets with her tears, but eventually she opens her eyes again. Except they feel weird - swollen and stiff, like stinging weights on her eyes. Her face feels hot, her nose too heavy. And, as she blinks up, she’s surprised to find only darkness above her. 

With a start, she realizes she’s lying on the ground again. A blanket puddles around her. 

She feels a weight on her waist, and she looks over her shoulder to find Cait on the carpet with her, fast asleep, the tubes and vials removed from her body and a sweater over her. Her chest rises and falls against Vi’s back with each breath she takes. 

Vi’s eyes burn again at the sight of Cait, down on the floor with her, curled up against her, but this time the tears feel lighter. Not happy, but not sad either. Just relieving, like shme’s shrugging off a heavy weight. She tries to keep quiet, but her attempt at holding back her tears makes her start shivering, and Cait’s eye opens. She frowns in confusion, bleary with sleep. But when she searches Vi’s face through the darkness, the furrow in her brows releases, and she moves her hand on Vi’s waist to touch her cheek, her fingers soaking in her tears. She pulls Vi’s head gently towards her, presses her forehead to hers. 

Vi breathes out a sigh. And she lets her eyes flutter close again.

[concretecultist]

The Vulture and The Finch

summary: a short story where the finch trusts the vulture, leading to a gut-wrenching betrayal.

word count: i have no idea actually but it is short.

warnings: angst, no happy ending, betrayal

A/N: Inspired by the song Birds by the Sea by BANKS. im back and im here fo bring the heartache.

“You never sang for me,”

Fighting the tears in your eyes was something you found yourself doing more often these days than not. His outfits were the same, but he wasn’t. How did this much time pass? You felt so lost, you stand alone now and the one person you wanted to stand by you forever… now stands with someone else.

“Y/N… what did you call me here for?” He has a right to ask this question. You haven’t spoken in almost two years. All the rumors you heard have become too much to bear, it was gutting you to even think about any of it being true. But seeing the five o’clock shadow and the ring on his left hand was answer enough.

“Heard you’re living with a girl by the sea,” You tried to smile, tried to choke out laughter to seem supportive but it all just sounded strangled; gurgled as if you’re drowning.

You stare out at the waves, aching with the knowledge that Noah always knew you wanted to settle down by the water as it was your safe space. You could cry while sitting on the shore, sharing something in common with the water that greeted you, the salt in your tears mimicking the crashing of the waves, releasing your pain. The wind that whisked past you whispered in your ears with each gust, ‘this too shall pass’.

It all feels like a lie now.

He said he’d never leave you. With all the warnings your mutual friends were giving you, you shouldn’t have believed him, especially because every time he said it, he said it by the door.

Subtle foreshadowing.

Was it because you broke the ancient superstition to never buy your lover shoes unless you want them to walk right out of your life? Perhaps it was the time you bought him the watch he wanted, bringing forth the bad omen on yourself, giving you no choice but to countdown how much time you had left together.

How rich that he’s wearing that very watch now.

“Heard she’s have a little baby now, how sweet”

He’s taken your dreams, your visions, just to fashion them to fit his current life. A piece of you has been stolen, it has kept you up at night more times you can count while he sleeps ever so peacefully.

“You don’t get to speak on my family,” His voice was void of any patience. He’s not even sure why he entertained you to come out here.

It’s sad really, the thought of Noah was always accompanied by birds, flying around you two as they sang their tune, but he never sang for you. His refusal should have been sign enough, he knew the type of love you desired and his defiance was a display of the deprivation.

“I should have listened to everyone when they told me not to fall for you, fuck! Even your own best friend warned me! He always told me you’d never change your ways but he was wrong. You did! I just wasn’t worthy, apparently,”

“Y/N, I have a wife and our child to get back to. I’m not here to debate my choices with you!”

“Then why did you come?!,” spinning around to take in the sight of him. He always had tired eyes but they only seemed more exhausted as they ran over your features. You weren’t sure if it was due to him preparing for a child… or if it was the fact he always found you mentally and emotionally taxing; that any energy he spent dealing with you was quickly depleted.

“Because I felt bad for you!,” his own expression was an indication of his involuntary slip up, however, he figured he might as well drive the sword deeper, “I came here because I still ask Nicholas about you and he tells me you’re not doing well. I know it’s my fault but what can I do now, Y/N? I’m married- I have a daughter on the way, I-,”

“So you take my plans and execute them with another girl? Yes. That sure shows your sympathy for me, Sebastian!”

“What is the point in all this?,”

The million dollar question. You asked yourself this all the way over here. No answer you came up with sounded good enough and you know no matter what answer you give, he will find pitiful.

“Closure, I guess,” You shrugged, wrapping your cardigan tighter around you as you turn back to the sea. Standing ankle deep in the water, wishing to be carried away in the ebb and flow. You hated how he could easily make you cry.

“You took the life I wanted for us both and you gave to someone else,” now there was venom on your tongue, “You were my songbird… y-you were supposed to bring love and joy but come to find out you’re a fucking vulture hiding in the skin of a finch. You mimicked me until the hunger of your own selfishness took over! You picked at me and picked until you were full and sated then you left my fucking carcass to rot and you think you deserve the peace? The clear conscience that you have?!,”

You really didn’t mean to break. You came here to ask how he was and to congratulate him on his new life, but the more you think about it- you didn’t want to do that anymore. He took the heart of a hopeless romantic and squeezed it dry right in front of you. How do you congratulate that? When he drained the blood from you just to pump it into the life he has today, making it full and youthful?

It’s sickening, actually.

You turned once more to look at him and swallowed thickly.

“You are the bad omen in my life. There was no black cat, no broken mirror, no walking under a ladder. Just a 6’3 bloodsucker who carefully chooses his next conduit to drain until he gets what he wants,”

You began to walk past him, just wanting to leave. That want was quickly diminished when you come to an immediate halt, feeling his hand wrap around your forearm, the coolness of his ring seeping through a hole in your cardigan brought a type of burning you’ve never experienced.

“That’s not fair,” he hissed, eyes strong and dead set on yours, surprised with you snatching your arm out of his grasp.

“No, what’s not fair is Nicholas telling me you’re naming your daughter after the name I was going to give our child!,” you push him away, a fire burning under your flesh, the complete opposite of the cool air that rushed between the two of you, “What’s not fair is you giving your wife my dream home!,”

Another push.

“What’s not fair is you making me believe that what you have now could have been with me,”

Another one.

“What’s not fair is you leaving me in the middle of the night while I cried for you and never turning back!,”

Another.

“What’s not fair is you dedicating songs to your wife and all I ever fucking got was a half assed unreleased verse on a usb!”

One more.

“What’s not fucking fair, Noah!! Is you watching me fall in love with you knowing you never felt the same way. That I was just a place holder until the girl you truly wanted, wanted you back!!!”

Next thing you know he’s stumbling and falling into the crashing waves, sea foam in his hair and salt water burning his eyes.

“You can have it! Have my life!,” you bellow, watching as he tries to pull himself together.

“You’re the one that has to live the rest of your life knowing you’re so empty that you have to siphon others to feel joy, to feel anything!,” you take a few steps toward him, pointing a finger with so much anger it could kill, “You have nothing left to siphon from me, so good luck trying to figure everything else out on your own,”

“Y/N,” he just sat there, head hanging low while his arms rest on his knees.

You had nothing left to say, nothing left to hear, so you had no reason to stay.

“Y/N!,”

The sand sinking with each step, forcing you to use your arms, your anger promoting the momentum.

“Y/N! Fuck!,”

His voice became quieter the more distance you made.

His facade will crumble.

And you’ll find your birds by the sea. Reminding yourself over and over that you’ll get what you deserve out of this life.

“Someone will sing for me”

————————————————

I know it’s quick and short but I really missed writing and this is to help me get back into it after the long and unexpected hiatus!! Thank you all for your support and patience!!!🩵

tags: @dravenskye @babs-96 @tech-depression-inventory @magnificentstrawberryomen @mrscevans @tinyfairies @mxddymay @themorticians-world @rainy-darling @darknightstarryeyes @thisbicc @lilhobgobbler @lovethe-void @cind6547 @flowery-mess @widowsofchaos @abiomens @amelia-acero @collapsedglasshouses @poppy-in-the-woods @rostoken @dkxxm @fadingintothegrey @blairboo @lacy1986