#i'm going to scream i need to know how to get this???

[madanimalscientist]

I did something similar re a shitty youth pastor, though I didn't wind up causing any sort of labour strike. But I did use a similar tactic - instead of being stuck in a room with the new youth pastor and her homophobia and passive aggressive hatred of anything that didn't fit into her tidy little Perfect White Midwestern Small Town Church Lady (tm) view of the world (this was the Lutheran church, and one of the incidents that led to me later running screaming from Protestantism and converting to Catholicism, who in that part of the Midwest, were the lefty Christians in town and pretty cool with queers (God bless you, Sister Lorraine)). And also some of the other kids in youth group were the same kids who bullied me at school so it was like some sort of mandatory punishment hour in terms of how little I enjoyed it.

So instead I started volunteering in the nursery during Sunday School instead, and then the 1st/2nd grade Sunday School teacher asked to borrow me to help ride herd because it was a very big class of kids that year and I did so well at that, it became a regular gig. It helped that some of the kids were kids I babysat anyways, so they knew me. And for some of the rowdier kids, we made a deal: sit as still as you reasonably can and keep disruptions to a minimum, and after Sunday School I will pick you up and spin you around til you get dizzy (the way some kids love to be picked up and spun). Some Sundays I had a line of 5 or 6 kids waiting for their turn XD

It was a win-win situation for me and my parents too, especially since my mum was very concerned with being respectable. But she knew that I hated putting up with the youth pastor's comments (she didn't like the fact that I was queer either, but she also thought the youth pastor was kind of an asshole in general, a view I wholeheartedly agreed with) and she knew that forcing me to spend an extra hour a week with kids that bullied me was a shitty thing to do (she definitely did not like those kids). So instead she got to brag "well you know how my eldest is just SO GOOD with the little kids, they babysit some of them too, and Mrs P needed a teacher's helper, so they volunteered to step up and help out, and Mrs P said that [redacted]'s help has made things go so much smoother, I'm so proud of them for being so selfless and giving up their own time in youth group to help out the younger students, what a good example they're setting!"

So I got to be removed from a situation I hated, mum got bragging rights, and I got a few extra babysitting clients out of it. Plus kids that young are pretty fun. Not as epic as OP's experiences but still a way of turning a source of frustration and pain into increasing the kindness in the world. And later on I would realise that the reason I was so good at babysitting neurodivergent kids was because I myself was XD But at the time I was known as 'the teenager who is good with rowdy/neurodivergent kids' and that was a pretty fun role to have!

Before I knew I was bisexual I was just insanely dramatic and weird around guys I liked. I had a crush on this guy in my ward - he was older than me, he played bagpipes and had a cheerful dog and an old Volkswagen bus that he worked on all the time. He also had nice scruff and unnaturally attractive hands and a good sense of humor, so I was like FULLY smitten.

I talked about him a lot and about how he was just so dang COOL, dang it, because he was so frickin’ cool. And I really liked him. I thought he was funny and smart and interesting and cool and fascinating and a bunch of other weird feelings I barely had the attention span to think about (I think my ADHD may have prevented me from coming out for a while tbh).

One day, I’m like 14-15, his dad is called to be my Sunday School teacher. His dad is this ex-military hardass with a chip on his shoulder for absolutely no reason and unattainable standards for his children. He spent most of Sunday School talking shit about his eldest boy and how he was rebellious and didn’t listen to him and how that was going to make him a bad adult and a bad son forever. How his son was too lazy and unmotivated to be successful because he didn’t listen to his advice on how to read the scriptures. He complained about how our generation was too weak to do things right and that our generation would surely be the one that brought the world’s downfall because of our laziness and sin.

And like, first of all, that guy can already go fuck himself for that. To clarify, that’s already stupid. BUT. He was talking about the man I had uncomfortable dreams about at least once a month. I couldn’t stand it. I’d get so mad I’d go home shaking sometimes because how fucking DARE he insult his hardworking stunning son by calling him lazy? For not reading the Bible the way his dad wants? When he’s already spending his time learning bagpipes? And fixing cars? And being cool? And cute? Who the fuck even cares if he uses the footnotes in the Book of Mormon? Who gives a rotten rat’s ass if he doesn’t use the scripture study manual his dad uses? He’s so cool he doesn’t even need it? So fuck off?

And eventually I got fucking Sick Of It and decided to mutiny. And by mutiny, I mean skip class. I’d just not go. And after a bit, adults started noticing and bugging me about it. At first, this was put off by small talk and excuses, but as my absence from Sunday School became more well-known, my excuses began to be rejected.

“Oh, Lizard, why aren’t you in class?” Uhm idk because my Sunday School teacher is mean to his kid and that makes me so mad wtf do you want from me? 🫠🤔

“Where’s your class, I’ll go with you!” Oh no ty I’d rather peel my own eyes than have my taste in men critiqued tyty 🩷

“Lizard, you should go to class, I’m sure they miss you!” And I miss the innocent days where my stomach didn’t hurt when a cool boy I knew was being belittled but unfortunately for us both those days are LONG gone and all that’s left is a budding psychosexual clusterfuck that will render me almost fully incapable of functioning for the better part of a decade so Bye Bye, sister Smith 🙂‍↕️

It had gotten to the point that ward leadership was involved. I was being approached by members of the Young Men’s presidency and the Bishopric to try and make me to back to class. They were telling me God had told them to find me and instruct me on my rebelliousness. This is where I implemented my secret weapon - women. Mormons are weird as hell about a lot of things, but especially about women. And I was GREAT with women. So to combat the leadership’s attention, I started helping women.

Our ward had a lot of new moms with babies who were, as babies tend to be, fussy. But for Mormon women the church is often their only social outlet, so they try to power through as long as they can even if it means enduring the exhausting ordeal of taking care of a fussy baby at church.

For what it’s worth, I have a lot of sway with babies. I got baby street cred. Me and babies have a rapport. I have always known this. I have always loved this. And in this crucial gay time in my faggot life my baby mind powers came in clutch - Every time I saw a member of the bishopric getting close, or a young men’s leader giving me side-eye, I’d start walking slowly towards class, passing by relief society. I’d wait until a mom’s baby had gotten too fussy and needed to leave the room, and I’d swoop in like a knight. “Oh, don’t you worry sister, I’ll bounce him a bit. You go back and hang out with your friends in class. You deserve a break.”

If it was a diaper change or something they’d tell me no. But if it was just some good old-fashioned baby fusses, I mean, they’d be moved almost to tears. They just got their social time back AND a free babysitter who is renowned as the Baby Whisperer. And because I was holding a baby as a favor for someone else, I of course could not reasonably be bothered to return to class.

So just like that, I was out of everyone’s sights. This went on for about a month before the straw that broke the camel’s back, which was that without my class participation the classes were quiet and awkward. I’d often take the brunt of Sunday school lectures by answering questions impulsively and over explaining myself enough that the clock could run out without anyone needing to do or say much. My absence meant everyone else was getting hit with the full unpleasantness of this guy’s bullshit. And so slowly, one-by-one, I had a group of about 8 kids on baby-holding duty. These new moms were so overjoyed, they and their husbands were both so actively in our corner that now chastising us was untenable. Now we had bargaining power. So the Bishopric approached us, confused beyond confused and uncomfortable beyond uncomfortable, and said,

“What’s it gonna take to get you back to class?”

The POWER I possessed in that moment was addictive. By being kind to the women of the ward and ignoring the Mormon de facto Rule of Law of following rules en-masse so the rule breakers feel left out, there were now so many people breaking ranks that we had effectively enacted a church boy labor strike. And they crumbled so fast it was almost like we had swayed God himself to our cause.

“I want brother assholedad gone. He sucks at teaching.”

I didn’t even have to say it. One of my rebels said it for me. I just nodded sagely and said “Yes, his class is not edifying. It’s better to not go and hold babies.”

And just like that, with a snap of my limp-wristed, Christ-wounding, bottom-brained fingers my faggot will was enacted. God’s revelation that brother shitdad was his chosen Sunday school teacher flipped on a dime. Suddenly brother shitdad was asked to be an usher and the fun dad of another one of my crushes was called in to teach us. I still stayed to hold babies a lot, but the rest of the class returned and all was well again.

Although I didn’t recognize it then, I think that was a formative moment for me in a lot of ways. I learned that being really persistently annoying will get me what I want from authority eventually. I learned that God’s will can be swayed by going in strike. I learned that ignoring men’s made up authority forces them to level with you as a person. I learned that caring for women, especially vulnerable women, can make a whole world happier. I learned that letting women rest can help them feel more love for the things that matter in their life. I learned that social bonds make everyone stronger and happier. And I learned that loving others in a gay way can change the world.

Be gayer. Read Terry Pratchett. I love y’all 💕

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

ephemeral pt.2

Pairing: Batfam x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k words

A/N: I'm pretty sure I tagged everyone who asked, really sorry if I missed yours if I did

part 1

Six months ago, when you awoke in the hospital after an attack on Gotham by the Witch Boy, Klarion, the nurses informed you that you had given birth to a beautiful baby boy. The only problem was: you couldn’t remember ever being pregnant.

After multiple rigorous tests, you were told that you’d sustained amnesia from a head injury during the chaos. It sounded insane—you couldn’t even remember the baby’s father.

You carried your newborn through the hospital halls, lost and overwhelmed. You had no idea what was about to become of the two of you—you didn’t even know where you lived, and the building where you’d been found had been reduced to rubble.

On your way out, you had the misfortune of passing a specific corridor, clutching Thomas—you didn’t know why you picked that name, it just felt right—to your chest. You watched strangers cry over the loss of their children, their partners, their parents.

You soothed Thomas' soft whimpers into the wisps of hair on his head, covered by a cap one of the nurses had kindly lent you. You didn’t know who you were. You couldn’t remember anything. But Thomas was your son, and regardless of everything, you loved him. You were grateful for him.

At least… you didn’t have to know the pain of losing a child.

And yet—for some reason—you felt like you had lost a child...

That hollow ache in your chest returned as you stood frozen, watching the Bats fight on the rooftop across from you. Killer Moth and Firefly, wreaking havoc with their signature chaos and flames. You were stuck on the roof, having barely escaped with Thomas in your arms when the lobby of your building had caught fire, trapping you above the inferno.

You watched as Red Hood tried to subdue him, cowering at the edge of the rooftop, holding Thomas so tightly that he began to squirm in discomfort but you didn't yield your grip.

The flames were slowly crawling up the building and you were beginning to sweat, feeling tears well in your eyes and a punch to your stomach every time you watched Red Hood receive a punch from Killer Moth.

And then—everything happened—all at once.

Red Robin landed on the rooftop in a blur of red and black, his voice sharp yet calm as he called out to you, “I’m here to get you both out of this. Stay with me.”

But before you could even process his words, Killer Moth lunged—his grotesque figure diving straight for you and Thomas.

It happened in slow motion.

A sharp intake of breath. The weight of Thomas in your trembling arms. The sickening realization that you couldn’t move fast enough.

But then, a streak of leather and metal crashed into Killer Moth mid-air. Red Hood tackled him with brutal force, the two of them colliding before tumbling over the edge of the building.

A scream left your mouth before you had any idea what was going on—

"JASON!"

You wanted to scream and cry in Red Robin's grasp as he carried you off to another building, grappling away. You needed to see if Red Hood was okay—you didn’t know why, but you had to make sure he was unhurt. You couldn't lose him—not again.

If it wasn’t for the crying baby in your arms, you would’ve kicked and wailed.

You don't know what happened in the next couple minutes, it felt like you had been blown in every direction by the wind until you found yourself in the Batcave surrounded by the remaining bats.

Even though they were trying to be subtle, you could still hear their whispered discussions. You weren’t supposed to—after all, they were the Bats, trained in the art of silent communication—but somehow, you could pick up on their words with ease. It was almost like you had been trained for it yourself.

Batman was asking Red Robin how he could bring you here, and Red Robin responded without hesitation, How could I not?

You clutched your baby closer to your chest, seeking comfort in his warmth as an odd sense of familiarity settled over you. The Batcave, with its cold metal and dim lighting, should have felt foreign, but instead, it gnawed at the edges of your mind like a memory just out of reach.

Your eyes flickered around the cavernous space, noting little details that made your stomach twist with unease.

Someone had moved the giant coin. It was supposed to be behind the dinosaur.

Wait.

How did you know there was a coin there?

You looked around, your gaze bouncing between faces, between artifacts, between things that all felt like pieces of a puzzle—except you had no idea what the completed picture was supposed to be. You could only sense when two pieces fit together.

Then, Robin stepped forward.

“Ummi?”

Your brows furrowed. That word—Ummi—why did it feel like you had heard it so recently? Your mind waded through the fog, and behind the haze, a vision emerged. A small figure in green, no taller than the boy standing before you. Sharp eyes. Determined stance.

Where had you seen him before?

Your gaze drifted again, sweeping over the others.

Nightwing. Red Hood. Red Robin. Robin.

Four boys.

Four Robins.

Why did that feel so familiar?

Robin hesitated, his usual sharp confidence laced with something vulnerable.

“Ummi… do you recognize me?”

Your mouth opened—then closed.

Your lips trembled as your heart pounded against your ribs.

You wanted to say yes.

But the words wouldn’t come.

"Ummi! It's me!" He stepped forward again, grabbing your hand and this time it was Red Hood that stopped him, grabbing him by the shoulder.

"Robin, stop it, we shouldn't force mo—her."

"Damian." You whispered and the cave fell silent. All of the boys—your boys—turned to you with expressions of shock. Damian had frozen in his place, watching you with stinging eyes that had widened behind the domino.

"You were—" You gasped, "You were the boy at the park."

He took a step closer to you and it was like all your memories had began to flow back into your brain, like something had finally been unlocked after so long.

Damian reached for you but stopped himself short, almost like he was afraid that you would evaporate into thin air if he touched you.

"I knew it," You gasped, choking on tears, "I knew I had known you from somewhere. My soul knew my baby's precious face anywhere."

His expression that had been so full of longing that day, looking painfully at the person that he wanted but could not have.

You remembered not that long ago, he had been staring up at you with a very different expression...

"Ummi!" Damian ran up to you, a photo frame clutched in his arms. Before you had gotten pregnant, he would have collided with you like a rocket, giggling if you managed to catch and lift him in time or breaking into peals of laughter if he ended up knocking you off your feet.

Since your bump had become noticeable, he had been extremely gentle, refusing even to hug you too tightly. As he neared you, he slowed his sprint in the last few feet, his smile bright with excitement as he clutched his gift to his chest.

"I have a gift for the baby." He announced.

You smiled down at him, gently running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp. He leaned into your touch, standing on his tiptoes as you bent down to press a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Oh, really? May I see it?"

He handed you the picture frame, revealing a beautiful watercolor painting of a group of robins perched on a branch. At first glance, they looked nearly identical, but upon closer inspection, each one was unique. The largest of the four had a lone white feather on the top of its head. Another had soft yellow shading on its wings. A third, with a faint blue tint in its shadow, gazed at the others as if watching over them. And finally, the smallest robin, speckled with green, soared through the air, as if looking down on the remaining three.

Your fingers gently traced over each robin, and in them, you saw the faces of your sons superimposed. Turning to your youngest with a grin, you said, "It's beautiful, Dami."

His smile turned a little shy, "I was hoping you'd hang it in the nursery, so the baby always has his brothers looking over him."

Your eyes misted, and while Damian might have blamed it on the hormones, his thoughtful gesture was what truly moved you beyond words. You hugged and kissed him once again.

"Why don't we find the perfect place to hang it right now?" You suggested.

Hand in hand, he followed you to the nursery, his excitement matching your own.

It felt like you were underwater, body feeling weightless all of a sudden that you couldn't control your shaky legs and you tumbled to the ground.

Luckily, Jason was there to catch both you and Thomas, always there as a reliable shadow your you and your youngest to rely on. You looked up at him, realizing how painful it must have been for him to stand back and watch you walk away that day in the rain.

A memory trickled back to your head...

"I'm sorry I couldn't attend the baby shower, Ma." Jason apologized, sitting beside you on the couch. Your hands were neatly folded over your bump and you gave him a gentle smile, running your hands through the cute little white streak in his hair. Jason insisted he had them before the viral 'money pieces' began making waves on social media and that he was the 'OG'—whatever that meant.

"It's okay, baby. It was just for PR anyway. I know you wouldn't have had fun around all those fuddy-duddies."

Jason gave you a half-grimace, half-chuckle. Ever since you had found out you were pregnant, you had insisted on avoiding bad language, claiming that the baby could hear you—or at least pick up on the bad vibes. Alfred had taken to this with great pleasure, always the promoter of the idea that "swearing shows you have poor verbal skills."

"I'm just lucky I was able to play the pregnancy card and turn in early. Your poor father is still entertaining them."

"Oh, yeah I was wondering where he was; he's usually stuck to you like a barnacle unless he's on patrol."

You chuckled at this; he wasn't wrong. Ever since you found out you were expecting both father and sons have been following every single step of yours. You'd be heavily disturbed if you didn't know this was their way of showing you their love and devotion. In fact, the only reason Damian wasn't currently beside you was because it was past his bedtime.

"Anyway, I just came here to give you this." Jason placed his gift onto your lap and you glowed at the sight of the adorable baby blanket. It was grey and patterned with bats. You chuckled, looking it over and feeling the soft material, wondering if he had tried and failed to find one with his own logo on it.

"It's wonderful, Jace, thank you. We love it." You smiled, patting your belly. Jason returned your grin, pecking your forehead instead of reaching for a hug to prevent you from moving. He knew just how long it would've taken you to find a comfortable position.

"I monogrammed it too." He revealed, unfolding the blanket and showing you the corner of the blanket that had a neat 'T.W.' embroidered into it. Your fingers daintily traced over the letters. Currently, only family knew that you were having a yet another son and that you had already picked out his name. 'Thomas Wayne' after Bruce's father, of course.

"I did it myself." He admitted bashfully, scratching his hot cheeks and you simpered, holding it to your chest.

"I love it."

A fresh wave of tears came to your eyes as you realized the blanket was probably burned to ash along with your other belongings. Thomas began crying in your embrace but your hands were shaking too much for you to soothe him.

"I've got him, mom." Dick lulled, taking the baby from your arms. Usually, you wouldn't have handed over your baby to just anyone. But this was your son, your oldest.

He held him to his chest, rocking his baby brother in his arms, "Hi, Thomas. I'm Dick, your biggest brother. It's so great to finally meet you."

Dick released a shaky breath, pressing his nose to his chubby cheek. Thomas didn't fret or fuss, holding onto the pocket of Dick's shirt in a tight fist, staring up at his big brother with wide, curious eyes.

Your heart clenched at the sight of his muscles subtly flexing as he fought the instinct to hold Thomas too tightly. It saddened you that he was only meeting Thomas now, especially when you remembered just how excited he had been to meet his little brother...

Dick stared at you and Bruce apprehensively as you both gave him nervous grins.

“Dickie, we have something we want to tell you, and since you’re the oldest, we wanted to let you know first.”

Before you could get another word out, Dick was already interrupting.

“Oh my god, tell me you guys aren’t getting a divorce. I know I don’t live with either of you, but I couldn’t stand it.”

Your brows furrowed. What on earth gave him that impression?

“What? No, baby, we’re not getting a divorce.”

Dick let out a dramatic breath of relief, placing a hand over his chest—only for his expression to shift into horror a second later.

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you’re inviting a third into your marriage. I know I don’t live with either of you, but I really couldn’t stand that either.”

“What on earth—no! Nothing of the sort is happening,” you said, exasperated.

Bruce sighed beside you, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Richard.”

You pointed at Dick before he could launch into another wild theory. “Richard Grayson Wayne, let us finish what we have to say.”

Bruce finally spoke up, “You’re getting another younger sibling.”

Dick blinked. His mouth opened, then closed as his brain processed the words.

“You’re adopting another kid?!”

“Not quite,” You replied.

His eyes narrowed as he turned to Bruce, suspicion laced in his voice, “Someone else stole your DNA and made another bio kid?”

Bruce gave him a flat look, but before he could answer, you smirked, “I wouldn’t say stole it… more like he gave it to me.”

You watched as the gears turned in Dick’s mind. His sharp blue eyes drifted downward, finally noticing the way your hand rested on your stomach.

The realization hit him like a truck.

His expression morphed from confusion to absolute bewilderment, “Ew! You both have sex?!”

You and Bruce gaped at him.

“Richard!”

Bruce groaned, running a hand down his face, while you sputtered out a laugh.

Dick’s horrified expression held for only a second longer before it cracked, melting into a wide grin. He let out a laugh, shoulders shaking.

“I’m just messing with you guys.” His voice softened as he stepped forward, pulling you into a hug, “I’m so happy for you! Congratulations, Mom.”

You hugged him tightly, your fingers running soothingly through his hair as you kissed the top of his head.

“You’re such a great big brother already. I just know this baby is going to love you.”

You caught a glance of Timmy standing beside him, waiting patiently for his turn with the newest member of the family and you sobbed into your hand recalling the way he watched you through the rear view mirror of your car that day at the grocery store.

He was always left on the sidelines, just waiting.

"Why didn't you tell me then, my baby? Why didn't you bring us home?" You cried, pulling him into your arms and running your hands through his hair.

"We thought you'd be safer this way." Tim explained, "Klarion was going to stop at nothing to get to us. We didn't want to push you away, but when you woke up with no your memory of us, we thought—we thought—"

Your poor baby, always thinking of others, always thinking of what was best for you...

You should have known.

The one day your husband and sons were given a rare, mandatory day off—to relax, take care of themselves, and maybe catch up on much-needed sleep—you should have known Tim would go the other way.

With the Batcave under strict lock and key for the night unless there was an emergency, it was only a matter of time before he got restless. Which was precisely why he stormed into the theater room, tablet in hand, while you were curled up against Bruce’s chest.

“Okay, so I did my research, and I’ve optimized the most optimal hospital bag for when you go into labor.”

You lifted your head off Bruce’s chest in surprise, barely registering the way he paused the movie. If you were being honest, you weren’t really watching it anyway. You had been too focused on the steady rhythm of your husband’s heartbeat, the warmth of his arms around you, and the quiet intimacy of just existing together.

“Tim, honey,” You said gently, “we don’t need a hospital bag yet. I’m only four months along.”

“You can never be too prepared,” He countered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “Now, experts recommend having a detailed but brief birth plan so any emergency doctor can read it and get caught up quickly. We should probably discuss what we’re going to do.”

You shared a glance with Bruce, amusement flickering between you.

Then, turning back to your third son, you opened your arms invitingly, “Come here, Timmy. Let’s look at it together.”

Tim made no qualms about settling into your lap, angling the tablet toward you as he began scrolling through his meticulously compiled notes. You hummed softly, your fingers carding through his hair, rubbing gentle circles against his scalp.

At first, he kept talking, rattling off statistics, expert recommendations, and contingency plans—but soon, his words began to slow. His blinks stretched longer, and before you knew it, he had completely passed out, his breathing deep and even against you.

You huffed out a quiet laugh, looking at Bruce, whose lips curled into a knowing smirk.

“I hope the new baby is as easy as him,” You whispered.

Bruce pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice low and amused, “Not a chance.”

Tim swallowed painfully and you brought him back into the hug, patting his back gently as he inhaled deep breaths. Despite everything, you still wore the same perfume, even though your clothes and hair held onto the smell of smoke, underneath it all was the scent of his mother.

Damian joined you on your place on the floor, sliding to his knees in front of you to join in on the hug, the three of you enveloped by Jason's towering figure. You peppered kisses and apologies to their faces, wiping each of their tears dutifully but letting your own skate down your cheeks.

Finally, your gaze turned to the last man standing in the room.

Bruce.

Your breath hitched as you took a shaky step forward. Then another. And another.

You had missed him. You hadn’t even realized how much until this moment. Bruce, your boys—your family—had filled a hole inside you that you never knew was there. And now, standing before him, the father of your children, the love of your life, that emptiness was suddenly unbearable.

The second you reached him, your hand lifted to cup his face, desperate to feel his skin. Then, just as quickly, you smacked him.

Hard.

The sharp crack echoed through the room, snapping him out of his stupor.

“How could you?” You choked out, your voice thick with emotion, “How could you let our boys go without their mother? How could you let me have Thomas alone? How long were you planning to let this go on? You inconsiderate, horrible, stubborn oaf!”

Each word was punctuated by a fist against his chest—not truly meant to hurt him, just a desperate attempt to make him feel everything you had endured.

Bruce didn’t move. Didn’t defend himself. He only stared, his blue eyes wide, as if he was afraid that if he blinked, you would disappear.

You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forward, crashing your lips against his. Tears streamed freely down your cheeks, making the kiss taste of salt and sweet.

“I missed you.” You sobbed against his mouth, “I missed you so much.”

A broken sound rumbled deep in his chest as he kissed you back, fiercely, desperately. His arms wrapped around you like he was afraid to let go, like if he held you tightly enough, he could make up for all the lost time. You squeezed your eyes shut, reveling in the feeling of being held after so long.

Then Thomas’s babbles grew louder, turning into a full-blown whine. His tiny arms flailed as he struggled against Dick, demanding attention.

You pulled away, breathless, as you turned to your baby, scooping him up into your arms. He fussed, wriggling, still unsatisfied with even your touch.

With a teary laugh, you turned back to Bruce, your smile wobbly but bright.

“Bruce,” You whispered, voice full of love, “Meet your son. Thomas Wayne.”

Bruce’s breath hitched, and for the first time since you stepped into the room, his mask cracked. His hands trembled slightly as he reached forward, brushing his fingertips across Thomas’s chubby cheek.

Thomas grinned up at him, giving him a gummy smile as he began kicking his feet in joy. You were barely able to keep your hold steady on him when Bruce held out his arms and you readily passed his son to him.

He looked down at the baby in his arms, every bit his father's son and Bruce felt the dam break.

His family was whole again.

***

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@tchatso

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

@that-one-fangirl69

@el-hrts

ephemeral pt.2 taglist:

@jsprien213

@fanfics4ever

@anonomous-chick

@thegirlwiththeyarn

@kore-of-the-underworld

@sofiafantasies

@pansyitcanton

@hayleym1234

@mikajack9273

@of-poetry-and-dreams

@noone-here111

@jellystar-star

@randomnamedmira

[dont-touch-the-phlebotinum]

Blood pounds in Buck's ears along with the sound of his frenzied footfalls echoing around the stairwell, but it's not nearly loud enough to drown out his spiralling thoughts, the thrum of helicopter blades picking up speed, of explosions and gunshots and every single thing that could possibly go wrong before this day from hell is over. He's pretty sure the only reason he's not having a full-blown panic attack right now is because he doesn't have either the time or the oxygen to spare.

Please, God, don't let him be too late.

He bursts out onto the rooftop with enough force that the door bounces back against the wall and slams behind him, and Buck can't tell if the spotting in his vision is from the sudden blinding sunlight or because he's forgotten to breathe in what feels like hours. But it doesn't matter. The helicopter is still there on the helipad, blades motionless, and there's a familiar silhouette walking towards it.

"Tommy!" Buck scrambles closer, before he can reach the helicopter and escape, again, before Buck has chance to explain, to fix things. He's too far away. Even at Buck's breakneck speed he won't reach Tommy before he reaches the helipad. "Tommy!"

The figure stills, and turns.

Buck stumbles to a halt in front of him.

In the golden light of the setting sun Tommy looks gorgeous — and wary, and torn, and Buck's every impulse is screaming at him to take Tommy's face in his hands and kiss all that pain away. But he bites it back. He's let his impulsiveness take over too many times when it comes to Tommy; it's time to be deliberate. If he doesn't get the words out now…

Tommy's head turns towards the helicopter waiting for him, the responsibilities, the reminder that the world is bigger than the two of them as much as Buck wishes right now it could be otherwise. He looks back to Buck, pleading. "Evan—"

"I know," says Buck. Each breath feels like a knife between his ribs, but he forces himself to take one, to shape what he's needed to say to Tommy for far too long. "Just — please, just give me a second to say this before you go."

The corner of Tommy's mouth twitches into a wry smile. It doesn't reach his eyes. "That's not a ringing endorsement of my chances," he quips, but if Buck lets himself think about Tommy's chances right now whatever force has been powering him through past the fear clawing up his throat and threatening to suffocate might finally up and leave him, so he shakes his head, shakes the words away somewhere they can't be heard, can't be made real.

"It hurt, what you said that morning," he says. "But that doesn't make it okay for me to hurt you back, and I'm so sorry I did."

Tommy nods, squares his shoulders like that's all Buck had to say before letting Tommy go. But it's not, not even close to all the words scrambling to make themselves heard, and Buck catches Tommy's wrist before he can turn away from him again.

"I just — did you really think I could've spent our entire relationship thinking about anybody but you?" The thought has churned through his mind enough times these last few weeks that the anger that comes along with it is less biting — less likely to make him say something he'll regret, hopefully — but it still flickers in his chest. He's been so goddamn gone for Tommy since the moment they met, how the hell could Tommy never see it?

The smile on Tommy's face is so sad, so defeated, that Buck wants to take him by the shoulders and shake him. "I know how this plays out, Evan," he says.

"But you don't!"

He forces himself to stop, let his emotions settle. It's not easy to think clearly around Tommy, never has been, between the lust and affection and hurt and now a healthy measure of bone-chilling terror that Buck might lose him completely, but he owes it to Tommy to try. Maybe he owes it to himself, too.

"When I said I didn't have to have feelings for everyone I sleep with, I didn't mean that I don't have feelings for you. I do. Tommy, I feel so much for you I don't know how I haven't burst from it all."

He watches Tommy's face for some sign of him shutting down again, that Buck isn't getting through to him. His jaw is clenched, tension still radiating from him like it's taking everything in him not to give in and run, to fight that wounded animal side to him that Buck was too blind to see before. But his eyes, glittering wet in the dying sunlight, are still fixed on Buck, and he's listening.

Maybe it won't change anything. But at least Tommy will know what he really means to Buck. Will know he's important, and loved, and deserving of so much more than he lets himself have. And that'll be enough.

"What I was trying to say was that I know what I'm doing. I know who I want to be with and who I don't. You know," he says, "everyone else keeps telling me what I want, like I'm too dumb to know it myself."

"That's not what I—"

"Don't," Buck cuts in, before Tommy can say it. He's on a roll now, and he's going to say his piece even if he has to strap himself into the cockpit beside Tommy and fly into God only knows what dangers to do it. "Right now I need you to listen when I tell you what I want."

There's something of surrender in the shrug of Tommy's shoulders, but he's smiling, as if even this version of Buck, frantic and sweat-soaked and angry, is still hopelessly endearing to him. "Okay," he says.

"I want you, Tommy. Only you. I want to wake up next to you in the morning. I want to listen to you talk about basketball even though we both know I only go to your pickup games 'cause you look so hot when you play, and I want to ramble about whatever stupid thing I learned that day that nobody else cares about and see you watching me the way you do, like you really wanna hear what I have to say, and know you're gonna remember months from now when I've forgotten it myself.

"I want you to feel like you can be yourself with me, and let me see that scared, lonely part of you you try so hard to keep hidden, and I want you to believe me when I tell you I'm in love with you, because I am. I love you so much, Tommy."

The tears in Tommy's eyes spill over, and Buck's pretty sure he's crying too at this point but he doesn't stop to scrub his cheeks, doesn't want to stop for all the world. The wind whips around them, sounds of traffic drifting up from the streets so far below, and there's people waiting for them, people who need them, but right now the only thing that matters is Tommy stood in front of him.

"And when you're ready, I want us to build a life together."

Tommy swallows. "I'd like that," he breathes.

The words are cracked and quiet, but he and Buck have gravitated so close towards each other by now they're stood practically chest to chest and the sound tucks itself between their bodies, there for Buck and Buck alone. He nods, and lets out a shaking breath.

"I'm gonna screw up," he says, giving Tommy one last chance to walk away before Buck gets his hopes up, as if it isn't already going to kill him if Tommy takes it. "I'm gonna say the absolute worst thing at the worst time and I'm gonna hurt you without even realising, but I swear to God, I will do everything I can to fix things if you'd just stick around and give me a chance. Do you trust me?"

"With my life."

"How about with your heart?"

Tommy leans in, touches his forehead to Buck's. "You already have it," he says. They breathe deep, not kissing, barely even touching — just there, together, reaching for whatever comfort they can find in each other. "It feels like I've been terrified my whole life. I'm not sure I know how not to be. But I want to try, with you."

"I can work with that."

And finally, finally, they're kissing. Not the desperate, all-consuming kisses they'd shared last time, but something tender and honest in a way maybe neither of them have really been with each other before now. They stay close even after their mouths drift apart.

"I love you, too," Tommy says. "And I'm sorry as well. I was an idiot. You know," he adds, in that bone dry tone Buck has spent months thinking he'd never get to hear again, and Buck smiles at the sound of it, "I'm kind of a mess, Evan."

The laugh that bubbles up from Buck's chest feels like a tide washing over him. "I had noticed that, actually."

"Wait, you did?"

"A little bit, yeah."

"Damn."

"I don't mind getting messy," says Buck, serious again. "And, in case you hadn't noticed, there's plenty of issues over here too."

Tommy smiles back at him. "Maybe we can work on them together."

"Deal."

And like a spell's been broken, Tommy's radio crackles to life, thrusting them back into the world, into the uncertainty of what's to come, into the gnawing terror that regardless of how their conversation had gone there's still a chance this is the last time Buck ever sees the man he loves.

"Kinard, what's your status?" comes a voice over the radio.

"Go save the day," Buck says, a gentle nudge to Tommy's chest to get him moving before Buck can give in to the urge to pull him closer and refuse to let go. "Just promise me you'll come back."

"I'll try my damnedest. I've got a hell of a good reason to now." He presses another kiss to Buck's lips, and Buck tries not to think of it as goodbye. "They'll need you on the ground."

"As soon as you're airborne I'm gone."

Tommy nods. "Be safe."

"You too."

One last embrace — no, Buck tells himself, not the last, because there's a future waiting for them and they're both going to fight like hell to get to it — and Tommy's jogging towards the helipad. The sun's dipped beneath the horizon now, the clouds swept away for Tommy to take to the air, giving Buck a clear view to track his progress from the ground.

"Hey," he calls after Tommy. "What are you doing Saturday?"

Tommy turns back to him with a grin. "How about you let me know when I land?"

[shyoko]

Omg hey this is the person who requested the ot7 angsty angst and OMG IT WAS SO GOOD, I love your writing and ugh this angst was 5 stars, simple and absolutely delicious. I don’t want to push but I’d love a part two, cause I love love love angst so much - 🌸

☆Getting in a figth with ENHYPEN -PT2.☆

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. (English is not my first language.) 

✦ 3.3K words✧Reconciliation! Soft* Masterlist˚ Taglist✧ Requests “Open”₊‧ ✦𓂃  ✦Taglist: @lezleeferguson-120 @nuki-riki @ijustwannareadstuff20 @vvenusoncasual @miellette @enhacolor @xxkatsusjinsux @somieverse

A/n:  Yay! I'm so happy that you liked it, I really enjoyed writing this, and I hope you like this one too, love u 🩷 It was really funny seeing everyone suffer in the last one lol, so here’s this so you won’t suffer anymore. Love you all so much 🩷

✦ Part 1 ✦𓂃 

Heeseung☆

You parked the car in front of the house, your heart in knots. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to leave, to take your things and find refuge somewhere else, far away from everything… far away from him. But even if you tried to run, the sharp pain was still there, consuming you.

You had twenty missed calls. His words still echoed in your mind like sharp blades.

You thought about him. You thought about the two of you. But if you wanted this to work, you had to walk away. You needed to know if he truly loved you, if he would come after you…

With a shaky sigh, you pulled the keys from your pocket and opened the door. The house was completely silent. Or so you thought, until a subtle sound reached your ears: ragged breathing, small muffled sobs coming from the living room.

Your chest tightened at the sight.

Heeseung was lying on the couch, holding his phone in his hand, fast asleep. Even in his dreams, tears kept slipping down his cheeks, tracing the path of his sorrow.

Your resolve wavered. How could you leave after seeing him like this? You hated seeing him suffer.

Without thinking, you carefully approached and knelt beside him. Gently, you slid your fingers across his face, wiping away his tears. That was when his hand moved instinctively, catching yours between his fingers.

At the touch, Heeseung furrowed his brows and blinked, his tired eyes meeting yours.

“Baby! Are you okay? I missed you so much… Will you forgive me? Please?” His voice was trembling, full of desperation. “Baby, I promi—”

The words were cut off when he suddenly sat up and wrapped you in a desperate embrace, as if he was afraid you’d disappear at any moment.

When you pulled away from him, a shiver ran down your spine. His warmth was your refuge, and being away from him felt like a punishment.

“I came to get my things,” you murmured firmly as you stood up.

“N-no, baby… let’s talk, please?”

Heeseung took your wrist and, with a gentle tug, pulled you back into his arms. This time, he didn’t let you go.

He loosened his embrace just enough to cup your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“I’ve been an idiot. A complete idiot,” he whispered seriously. “And, God, I can’t live without you. You’ll never understand how much I love you.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, inhaling deeply as he watched a single tear slide down your cheek.

“I wish I could be with you in this life… in the next… and the next and the ne—”

You covered his mouth with your hand, rolling your eyes.

“Yes, yes, I get it.”

A smile appeared on both of your faces.

“Can you yell at me and call me an idiot? That would make me feel better.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re an idiot… but I love you so much.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His arms wrapped tightly around you, as if he was afraid of losing you again. Without warning, he lifted you and laid you down on the couch, curling up on top of you, resting his head on your chest.

Your heart was racing, and he heard it with a satisfied smile.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice full of sweetness.

He closed his eyes, holding onto you as if you were his only peace.

And maybe, just maybe, you were.

jay☆

Days had passed since that argument with Jay.

Every morning, without fail, a message from him would arrive. "Good morning, love." "I love you." "I miss you." Always with the same tenderness, the same patience. He reminded you that, even though he understood you needed time, he would still be there… waiting.

And you missed him.

Every day, the temptation to reply grew stronger. You wanted to text him so many times, to tell him how much you loved him, how much you needed him… but you held back. You didn’t want to go back to the same cycle. There were still too many doubts in your mind.

As you were cooking, the sound of your phone interrupted your thoughts.

"Can I come over? I need to see you."

A second later, another notification.

"Please, baby."

Your chest warmed instantly. You wanted him close. You needed him. But then, the questions came.

What if everything went back to the way it was? What if nothing changed? What if he didn’t feel the same anymore?

Your phone vibrated again.

"I know you need time, I really do… but I can’t take it anymore. It’s been a week, and I feel like I’m going to die. Please, let me see you. Kiss you. Hold you. Say yes, please."

You couldn’t resist anymore. All the anger, the doubts, the distance—they crumbled all at once.

"Okay."

A simple response, no complications. But behind those two words was a desperate truth: you wanted him back. You wanted his hugs, his kisses. You wanted him.

The distance between his house and yours had never felt so short.

The doorbell rang impatiently.

You took a deep breath before turning the knob and opening the door.

And there he was. Jay.

His face uneasy, his hands trembling, and in them, a bouquet of flowers. Not just any bouquet, but one filled with all the flowers you had once mentioned you liked.

Your lips parted in surprise.

"You didn’t have to do this."

But before you could say anything else, Jay set the flowers aside and took your face in his hands.

And he kissed you.

Desperately. Longingly. Lovingly.

"I missed you too much."

He hadn’t even stepped inside your house. He didn’t care. He just needed you. Always. At any moment. Because to him, you would always be the most important thing.

He had been a fool.

But he was your fool.

And he always would be.

Jake☆

You had only been away from Jake for a few hours, but the argument still weighed heavily on your chest. Every word, every look, every second where everything felt like it was about to break kept replaying in your mind.

You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when your phone vibrated.

A message from Jake.

You sighed, debating whether to open it or not, but in the end, curiosity won.

It was a photo.

In the picture, Jake and Layla were on the couch together. Jake had a sad expression, his lips slightly pouting, and Layla, lying next to him, looked at the camera with the sweetest eyes in the world.

Along with the photo, a message:

"Layla says her parents need to make up because she doesn’t want to live in a broken home 😭💔"

You couldn’t help but smile a little.

Before you could respond, another message popped up.

"She also says she misses you so much… and that her dad has been unbearable since you left, so please come back for everyone's sake 🥺🙏"

You shook your head, feeling something warm spread through your chest.

And then, one last message.

"Okay, actually, I said that… but she definitely thinks it… I think. 🐶💕"

That was it. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

You grabbed your things and went back to his place.

When you arrived, Jake opened the door in a second, as if he had been waiting right behind it.

"You came back?" —his eyes shone with relief.

Before you could say anything, Layla jumped on you, wagging her tail like crazy and covering you in kisses.

"See? I told you, Layla really missed you."

"Uh-huh, sure… Layla…" —you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

Jake chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

"Okay, fine. Me too. A lot. Too much." —His expression softened as he looked at you with pure adoration— "I’m really sorry. I don’t ever want to fight like that again. You’re the best thing I have."

You took a deep breath, trying to stay firm, but… how could you stay mad at him when he looked at you like that?

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

"You’re an idiot."

"I know."

"But I love you."

Before you could say anything else, Jake pulled you into his arms, hugging you so tightly you almost lost your breath.

"Agh, Jake, you’re gonna break my ribs!"

"Oops, sorry, I’m just so happy." —He kissed your forehead multiple times— "Never leave again, okay? Layla and I can’t handle it."

"Alright… but on one condition."

"Anything."

"Next time, use Layla from the start. I can’t resist that face."

Jake laughed, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Deal."

Sunghoon☆

You hadn’t spoken to Sunghoon in days. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, but after the argument, you were waiting for him to take the first step. However, the silence between you only grew longer, heavier.

Your friends, tired of seeing you sigh over him without doing anything about it, dragged you to a party.

"It’ll be good for you to take your mind off things. Stop thinking about him."

You tried… until a guy who clearly didn’t understand the meaning of “I’m not interested” decided to be too persistent.

"Come on, just one drink. I don’t bite." "No, thanks." "Just one, I promise you’ll have a good time."

You rolled your eyes, taking a step back, but he stepped forward again, blocking your way.

"Is it really that hard to accept an invitation?" "As hard as understanding that I DON'T WANT TO."

Before the guy could respond, a cold, firm voice interrupted the conversation.

"Is there a problem here?"

The world seemed to stop when you turned your head and saw Sunghoon standing there, jaw clenched, his eyes burning with restrained fury.

"And who the hell are you?" the guy spat, annoyed.

"Her boyfriend." Sunghoon took a step forward, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his chest. "So I’d appreciate it if you stepped back before this ends badly."

The guy frowned, looking at you and then at him, but finally clicked his tongue and walked away, muttering something under his breath.

"Are you okay?" Sunghoon asked, looking down at you.

You didn’t answer.

Not because you didn’t want to, but because you were still too stunned.

Sunghoon sighed and gently took your hand.

"Let’s go. I don’t want you staying here."

You didn’t argue.

You left the party in silence, and he led you to his car. The moment he closed the door, a different kind of tension filled the air. Sunghoon ran a hand over his face, as if trying to calm himself, then turned to you.

"How did you know I was here?" you asked, crossing your arms.

Sunghoon looked away for a second, as if debating whether to answer, but in the end, he sighed.

"I’ve been asking your friends about you every day. I wanted to know if you were okay… if you hated me… if you wanted to talk to me. And today, they told me you were here, so I came."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"Did you really do that?"

"Of course. How could I not worry about you?" —Sunghoon looked at you with those deep, emotion-filled eyes that always made you melt— "I miss you. So much."

His gaze dropped to your lips, and before you could process it, his hands framed your face, and his lips crashed onto yours in a desperate kiss, full of everything he hadn’t been able to say in days.

"I missed you." —He murmured against your lips, pressing soft kisses between each word— "I missed you so much."

Your heart pounded like crazy, but you didn’t pull away.

"Me too."

Sunghoon rested his forehead against yours, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

"I’m sorry. I was an idiot. I promise it won’t happen again."

"It better not." —You sighed, playing with the strands of his hair.

"Does that mean you forgive me?"

"Mmm… depends."

"On what?"

"On how many more kisses you’re willing to give me to make up for it."

Sunghoon smirked before leaning in again.

"As many as you want, princess."

Sunoo☆

Since you heard those words, a knot had settled in your chest.

"Yeah, I love her, but sometimes she’s a bit too much and just too..."

You hadn’t wanted to hear the rest. It hurt. And that’s why you had been ignoring his calls and messages for days, trying to keep your distance.

But Sunoo didn’t give up.

Your phone vibrated again, and this time, without thinking too much, you answered.

"What do you want, Sunoo?"

"To talk to you. To explain myself."

His voice sounded different, more serious than usual. You sighed, saying nothing.

"I didn’t mean it like that. I was joking around with Ni-ki, and I said it without thinking. But I wasn’t serious, you know that, right?"

"I don’t know, Sunoo," you admitted honestly. "Is that what you really think of me? That I’m too much?"

There was silence, followed by a deep sigh.

"If being ‘too much’ means that you take care of me, that you’re always looking out for me, and that you shower me with love, then yes, you are. But I love that about you. I don’t want you to change."

You lowered your gaze, biting your lip.

"I’m coming over."

"You don’t have to…"

“Yes, I do. Wait for me."

It was nighttime when the doorbell rang. When you opened the door, Sunoo was standing there, his brows furrowed and lips pressed together, as if he was holding something back.

"I don’t want you to go to sleep thinking I don’t love you."

His tone was firm, sincere. He stepped closer, not breaking eye contact.

"You are the most important person in my life. And if I ever made you think otherwise, I’m sorry."

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

He sighed and, carefully, took your hand.

"Can we fix this? I don’t want to be apart over something stupid I said without thinking."

You squeezed his fingers slightly. You couldn’t stay mad at him.

"Only if you promise to think before you speak next time."

Sunoo let out a small laugh and nodded.

"I promise."

A sigh escaped your lips before you let yourself fall into his arms, feeling his body relax instantly.

"I’m glad you’re not too proud."

"And I’m glad you’re too persistent."

"I guess we make a good team."

You both laughed softly, letting the tension slowly fade away.

"I don’t want to leave tonight," Sunoo murmured into your hair. "Let me stay with you."

You didn’t answer, just took his wrist and led him to your room. He climbed into bed with you, wrapping you in his arms as if he was afraid you’d slip away again.

"Sleep, love," he whispered, gently stroking your back. "I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere."

You closed your eyes, feeling his breathing fall in sync with yours. It didn’t matter what had happened before. Right now, you were together, and that was all that mattered.

Jungwon☆

You locked yourself in the room, crossing your arms as your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t want to keep arguing.

Outside, Jungwon let out a heavy sigh.

"Baby, please open the door. I don’t want to keep fighting."

"Go away, Jungwon."

"You know I’m not going to do that."

You heard him turn the doorknob, trying to open it. Quickly, you leaned against the door to stop him.

"Let me in."

"No."

"I’m coming in anyway."

"No, you’re not."

But he did.

Jungwon pushed harder than he intended, and before you could react, the door swung open and hit you on the head.

"Oh no!" he exclaimed as he saw you wince and press a hand to your forehead. "Baby, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to… come here."

Before you could protest, he took your hand and led you to the bed.

"Let me see." He gently moved your hand away to inspect your forehead. "God… I’m a mess."

He sat beside you, running his fingers through your hair tenderly, pressing soft kisses on the spot where he had accidentally hit you.

"I feel awful. Really, forgive me."

"You didn’t mean to…" you mumbled, feeling how the warmth of his touch melted away any lingering anger.

"Still… Do you want me to get you some ice? Or chocolate? Or both?"

"Maybe both."

"Whatever my princess wants." He smiled, kissing your forehead again.

For a few seconds, silence filled the room until, without meaning to, a small laugh escaped your lips.

"What’s so funny?" Jungwon asked, amused.

"That you literally almost knocked me out with the door."

Now it was his turn to laugh.

"I know, I know. I’m the worst."

"A little bit."

"But you still love me, right?"

"Maybe…" you teased.

"Hey!"

Both of you burst into laughter, and without thinking much about it, you let yourself fall onto his chest. Jungwon wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly, as if that could somehow make up for the accidental hit.

"Don’t lock yourself away from me again," he whispered, stroking your back. "If we fight, I want to fix things together. I don’t want any distance between us."

"I promise."

"Good."

Jungwon let out a relieved sigh and pressed one last kiss to the top of your head while you closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

Ni-ki☆

It had only been a few minutes since you left, but the weight of his words was already unbearable for Ni-ki. His heart pounded as he stared at the door, drowning in regret.

Without thinking twice, he ran after you. He didn’t care that his friends were watching or that the cold night air stung his skin. He just needed to find you.

It didn’t take long for him to catch up. You had stopped on the sidewalk, taking deep breaths to keep the tears from falling. When you heard his hurried footsteps behind you, you clenched your fists.

"Leave me alone, Ni-ki." You said without looking at him.

But he didn’t.

"I can’t."

His voice sounded different. The frustration from before was gone, replaced by desperation and sadness.

"Please, look at me."

You shook your head, but when you felt his trembling hand take yours, it was impossible to ignore him. His dark eyes were filled with regret, and his breathing was unsteady.

"What I said was awful." His voice was shaky. "But I have never, ever, been ashamed of being with you. How could I? You’re the best thing in my life."

You lowered your gaze, feeling your anger begin to crumble.

"Then why did you say it?" You whispered.

Ni-ki bit his lip, his other hand rising to gently cup your cheek.

"Because I’m an idiot who speaks without thinking when I’m upset. But I swear, I didn’t mean it."

A moment of silence passed between you before he sighed and rested his forehead against yours.

"You’re everything to me, okay? If you leave, I’ll go crazy."

You couldn’t help but let out a tired sigh, but your body instinctively relaxed against his. Ni-ki noticed and smiled slightly.

"I know you’re still mad, so you can punish me however you want."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Hit me, insult me, tell me I’m an immature kid…"

"You already know that."

"Hey!"

Finally, a small smile escaped your lips, and Ni-ki took it as his personal victory.

"I made you smile. That means I still have hope."

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t pull away when he wrapped his arms around you, burying his face in your neck.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I know."

"So… can I come back home with you?"

"Only if you buy me something to eat on the way."

Ni-ki laughed against your skin and took your hand firmly, making sure you wouldn’t walk away again.

"Anything you want, my love."

Do you feel better after the second part? lol I hope you do (even I got mad at them while writing the first one HAHAHA)

[darkfrog24]

Part of this may be a shift in the way readers interact with fanfic, but authors also need to react better to getting comments.

Unsolicited constructive criticism

Solicited constructive criticism

I-liked-this-but-not-that/this-is-how-the-story-made-me-feel full-bodied sincere reaction

Praise that wasn't the kind of praise the author happened to want

I have seen authors absolutely lose their $#@% at all of the last three of these and can therefore buy it would also happen with the first one. I'm talking attack rants, screaming that the commenter is rude and a bad person + blocking. (Fanwriters, yes you can block someone, but either block them or start talking to them. Blocking says "go away" and talking to them, even in a rant, says "get back here." No one owes it to you to keep their hands at their sides if you're throwing punches.)

What you can do right now? Go into your author notes and say what kinds of comments you want and take down anything you don't 100% mean. "All comments welcome" and "Tell me what you think" do not belong on your 'fic if you don't want concrit or if a reader picking your story apart would ruin your day (and remember, some of us LOVE those kinds of comments). I know a lot of people wish that this or that were the default commenting etiquette but fandom is too big and too variegated for that to be realistic.

Solutions to the comment drought include 1) letting readers know it's a problem (good job, everyone on this post!), 2) restructuring the reading infrastructure to remove any technological barriers to leaving comments, 3) reestablishing a culture in which leaving a comment is a safe thing to do.

someone I follow on the bird app just announced they're starting a very exclusive private fic server because they and a bunch of other people want to talk about how much they love the fics they're reading, and as an author can I just say that a really great place to talk about a fic you love is in the comments for that fic

I understand that people are trying to create safe spaces, but as the number of comments that I get on my fics dwindles with each passing year, knowing these spaces exist where my fics are being discussed, places that I am excluded from, makes me want to write fic LESS

I mean I guess who cares, right, because if I stop writing, there's 10,000 other people that will continue...but if you participate in a fic "book club" server and you say nice things there about a fic you loved, maybe copy and paste that into a comment on AO3?

the only thing fanfic writers are asking for in return for hours of hard work is attention. please don't rob us of the one thing that we hope for when we hit "post"

[nashusglasses]

Hiiii can I request Sylus with 49 “Put on a show for them, baby.” and 11 “You’re fucking hot when you cry.” 🤭

posting this ahead of thursday bc i've kept you waiting long enough!!! here's amateur pornstar sylus AU <3

these prompts are from this list. if you'd like, send me two prompts and a lads man for next week :)

(NSFW, 18+, please read) mentions of subspace, orgasm torture, creampie, urination from oversensitivity

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.

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"My precious girl," Sylus croons. He kisses your sweaty hairline. "Where'd all your courage go?"

"Fuck if I know." You can't tell if it's anger or resignation that makes you want to bruise his chest with a hard punch. The rabbit vibrator is still hot from whirring three back-to-back orgasms out of you. "Where are we…?"

"Twelve," he answers.

You almost whine. Was this all your fault? Yes. But that didn't mean you weren't allowed to be pissed off. You'll just edit out all your unnecessary grumbling. An easy fix, especially if the angle of the camera is focused solely on your used pussy.

(You did get a comment on a recent video praising Sylus for his cooing, though. Too low for viewers' ears to pick up actual sentences, but it's the way you melt into him that gets the message across. pleeeeaaaseeeeeeeee don't edit out the part where he talks to u <3, it said. idek what hes saying but he sounds soooo hot!!!)

Sylus soothes your unease with a kiss, tapping the toy still notched inside you. "Want me to take it out?"

"Just—wait," you moan. It's the only thing grounding you to this bed. The floaty feeling in your head isn't enough to overwhelm you entirely, but you're well on your way to surrending your consciousness to the darkest shade of fucked-out. "Can you… kiss me?"

He presses you deeper into the mattress with how hard he gives it to you. His tongue catches your loud exhale, licking taut like he's fiending for your taste. You're breathless. Worn out, muscles already screaming with an ache you'll feel for days. You've only got ten minutes left to beat your record of how many orgasms Sylus can wrench out of you within an hour.

Whether you're conscious by the end of it or not doesn't matter. He'll always take care of you.

Sylus lets up from your kiss, taps the toy again. "Good now?"

You nod, cringing when you feel yourself loosen around nothing as it slides out under his guidance. You don't even need to look down to know that the toy shines, creamed with lube and your own wetness. Sylus twists it around for the camera lens, offering a flexed bicep just to double-up on eye candy.

"Two more, darling," he croons, tossing it far on the bed to clean up later. "Still got it in you?"

He says it loud enough for a tease, but no one else can glean the concern from his eyes. He sees it too, the way you're blinking too slow now. Throat caught with silence because you're thinking too much and not at all at the same time.

"Colour?" He whispers. He cups your face when you close your eyes for too long.

The warmth brings you back, bliss colouring your head into lax satisfaction. "Green."

You think he says good girl, but all your senses clam up when you feel his cock pressing up inside you, whining deep from the heat sparked in your gut. Sylus presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Put on a show for them, baby."

It starts with clenched toes, spasming thighs where he keeps his hands to tuck your knees up. The perfect shot for the wet piston of his cock because he knows you always come the hardest when he's inside you, and you've got the arch of your back to show for it.

Suddenly you can't help but shake with choked laughter, because of course you already feel the build of an orgasm threatening its eruption. "I'm—ha—already—"

"I know, sweetie." Sylus slaps his hips hard just to watch you curl with a gasp. "Let me feel you."

Your chest caves, breaths lost when you watch the way his dick creams at the base, sticky sounds you hope your viewers appreciate. You whine loud, almost too corny with the volume.

"Oh—" Sylus picks up to painful speed, hips a hard threat on your clit and you're throwing your head back— "fuck, oh my God coming—!"

There's thirteen. Nothing slow or careful about it, just a frenzy you squeeze your pussy through and you moan with every pulse. Senses heightened to clarity only an orgasm can help you achieve, and it crashes just as fast when Sylus whistles: "One more?"

You fog over into submission. He takes it from you, leaning up into straighter posture to guarantee harder thrusts you feel into your hair. You come again, writhing from the barrage, eyes pinched with hot tears.

"Oh, my darling." Sylus curls over where you lie limp, pumping through his own orgasm with a deep groan, cum sliding down your ass for a dirty grand finale. You heave with another sob. "My sweet girl. I'm proud of you. And you're fucking hot when you cry."

"Down. Now," you plead, and immediately he coils his arms around your shaking body, shushing you sweetly. "It's—hot…"

"Where?"

"There." You burn. It aches, and Sylus knows immediately.

"Go ahead," he coos. "I'm right here, it's okay."

You squeeze through another wave of tears, hiccuping, and suddenly your pussy is warm, too warm, way too wet, and you weep and mewl and cry as the embarrassment tips you over, the cum drying on your ass washing down with your own dirty heat.

When you finally feel empty, you cry even harder. "Sy-lus—"

"Sh-h." He pets your head. "No more of that. Focus on my voice. I love you with my entire soul. My darling baby, my sweetheart. You did so, so well…"

He kisses your tears away as your mind fades to black.

[hyckstarz]

breaking the rival code | l.mk

pairing. rival!mark lee x afab reader

word count. 6.1k

genre. smut · enemies to lovers trope · humour

synopsis. Mark had a way of getting on your nerves, to the point you'd even considered shutting him up for good. However, your best friend eventually planted a seed in your head that fucking your rival, and breaking the unspoken code, would be enough to finally end the long-standing feud.

warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, fingering, use of pet name (baby), choking, oral (fem receiving), haechan as best friend and instigator

A/N. i had this buried in my drafts for months but it had me screaming into my own pillow whenever i read it so... i decided to press that blue publish button.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Mark Lee," she's fuming, as per usual. Eyebrows tightly knit and throwing daggers with her hard glare while Mark just laughs, "It's due next week, and you haven't even written up a plan?!"

Mark rolls his eyes, his glasses almost slipping down his nose, doodling absentmindedly in his notebook, "Relax, that's 168 hours of time to work on it, it's nothing."

She sinks back into her chair, crossing her arms in that arrogant way - as Mark would describe it, "Actually, it's less than 84 hours if you factor in sleep, other classes you have to go to, and fucking surviving. Mark, do you take anything seriously?"

Mark rubs his face in frustration, facing her, "It's the first year; none of this counts towards our grade," he goes back to doodling small Spider-Man caricatures but, as always, he can't resist having the last word, "And you're too serious, princess. Live a little."

Small things like that always set her off. She was aware of how she came across but, when it involved Mark, she only ever saw red. She somehow manages to calm herself down, realising they're in the campus library and already earning a few curious, judgemental stares.

"Mark...," she manages to whisper somewhat loudly, leaning in close enough for him to feel her minty breath against his skin, "Can we please get most of this done today? I'd very much like to be free of your presence."

Mark chuckled under his breath, his dark eyes slowly drifting over her subtle features, raising a brow in amusement - the weight of his gaze caused the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. Finally, he gave in and pulled out his laptop. He began clicking through their assignment brief and taking notes down, surprising even her, who started doing the same. As English literature students, it was a given that they had to read a stack of novels and articles, even for an assignment worth 0% towards their final grade.

Yet even small victories in their relationship were rare. It was a miracle that they were somehow able to work through the tasks efficiently, though that moment was short-lived before they were at each other’s throats, with Y/N starting it again.

"Mark, we're meant to critically analyse, not describe. Do you have any working brain cells in that thick head of yours?" Her fingers twitched, as if to hold herself back from clenching her fists and knocking some ounce of sense into him.

He rolls his eyes in response, jaw hardening as he scowled at her, clearly not in the mood for their usual back and forth, "We need to have a synopsis of the texts, I don't know how else you expect me to include all of the relevant info without having a short paragraph in there."

She simply looks at him in disbelief, shaking her head as if he'd just said the most absurd thing ever, "Mark... do you really think we can afford a whole paragraph just on a summary?"

He just chuckles in response, clearly uncaring. She leaned forward, her fingers digging into the desk and turning white as she struggled to maintain her composure. Mark’s casual smile only fuelled her irritation, but she lets out a heavy sigh, judgy eyes flicking across his face.

"You're like those pretty dumb blondes; the only thing you've got going for you are your looks, sorry to say," she sneers, going back to taking notes, but she internally curses at herself for admitting she found him at least objectively attractive.

Mark pauses, head snapping to her, his eyes flicking over her features, trying to decipher what she'd just said, or if he'd even heard her correctly under the hushed whispers of the library. He spins the pencil in his hand, eyes narrowing at her as a smug expression tugs on the corners of his lips, "You think I'm good looking? I'm flattered."

Y/N gives him an exasperated glance, snorting at his sudden change in demeanour and sitting up to look at him straight on, "I know you took me for a fool, but a blind one too? Damn," she said with a sarcastic lilt.

When Mark doesn't respond, just a cocky smirk widening - his gaze intense - she feels her heart rapidly beat against her chest and, as a way to hide the effect he has on her, she rolls her eyes for the nth time that hour, clearing her throat and focusing back on her task, "If you weren't so annoying, or if you learnt how to shut your mouth and do things correctly, you'd have a lot more going for you," she sends him a glare, "But you don't, so your looks only take you so far, and that's below average in my books."

He mocks in response, "Wow, you read? How surprising."

This time, she couldn't hold herself back. Mark did have a way with getting under her skin, so well in fact, that it led to them being asked to leave the library, only furthering their frustration and anger towards one another.

It wasn't always like this, either. When Mark had first met her, he was a shy, slightly awkward teenage boy and, the first impression she had of him, was cute. He was incredibly sweet and outgoing; it was easy for him to make friends and that meant they easily got close too. The only problem was, they were so alike in all the wrong ways. He was just too competitive and stubborn, always aiming for the top, and so was she. It was only natural that friends turned to rivals, competing with one another over everything. With that being an understatement.

From whom could get to the cafeteria the fastest, to who could submit their assignment the earliest and get the highest grade? It was competition, after competition. Most would get exhausted after the first two or three, but for them, it was thrilling, though they'd never admit that to one another.

"I can't believe your loudmouth got us kicked out of the library," his jaw hardened as he met her intense gaze, "Can't you sit still and take comments with some sort of, I don't know, strength? Because clearly, you're so sensitive over such simple, meaningless words," He slings his bag over his shoulder, already walking off.

Only further proving his point, she chases after him, tugging at his arm so that he wouldn't get away.

"You're the one who can't let things go either, always needing to have the last word, what are you, a child?" she crosses her arms and nods her head with a questioning brow, as if to say, 'go on'.

Mark just scoffs, about to walk off before turning around, his hands moving in frustration as he glares down at her, "You- you're such a pain in the ass, you know that? You really know how to drive me crazy."

He's panting, frustration evident. But it was the way he was looking at her that threw her completely off balance. His narrowed eyes flicked to her lips, brows furrowed as though he were etching her features into his long-term memory. She felt her heart drumming in her chest.

Before she could respond, a familiar yet equally as annoying mutual friend of theirs appears, snickering at the pair and their usual quarrelling, "Jeez, can't you two just fuck already?"

"Shut the fuck up, Haechan" they both say in unison, tearing their gaze away from one another with a scowl.

Haechan only snorts, glancing between the pair with an amused brow, "Clearly there's some sexual tension that I'm interrupting here, it would explain why you look at each other like that," He leans in-between them, as if to reveal the biggest secret in history, "I bet you two dream about each other too - in, you know, that kinda way."

Mark just stands there, mouth agape and in disbelief at the absurdity Haechan was spewing, looking between the two. Y/N just scoffed, grabbing the man by his bag and pulling him away without so much of a word. Haechan waved a chaste goodbye to Mark as he was being dragged off to God knows where.

Someone was going to die today, and it was definitely Haechan.

It was quiet. Way too quiet. The coffee shop was empty, hence for the low whispers of the baristas in the far corner, and a cheeky Haechan sitting before her, happily drinking his iced tea after telling his two closest friends that they should fuck each other. She groans, letting her head fall into the palm of her hands.

Usually, this coffee shop was a place where she could find peace and solitude. It was bright, with large windows that let light in all throughout the day, creating a florescent streak of amber and pink through the thin stickers attached to the panels. The colour schemes could easily brighten one's day as whites and pinks peppered along the walls.

The foliage brought life to what would otherwise seem like a cold, simple design, and the bakery added a subtle hint of beige, creating a natural environment. But the best thing about any coffee shop, was the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, and the sounds of the machine working, or even the quiet conversations. Though, sounds were non-existent today, except for her constant groaning, which started to bother her best friend.

"If you make one more frustrated sound, I'm leaving," he takes another sip of his cool drink, "Is it because of what I said earlier? Just know, I wasn't lying, that would definitely help you two."

She pulls her hands away, pursing her lips as she started twirling her straw, watching the milk mix with the coffee and caramel, "No, it's because I'm... I don't know, frustrated?"

Haechan glared incredulously, "Clearly."

"Not like that, I meant... I miss how Mark and I used to be, how we would laugh at silly jokes, or talk for hours without it having to turn into a competition, but now everything he says or does has a way of getting under my skin," She takes a sip of her drink, eyes twinkling at the taste, "He could just be sitting there, doing absolutely nothing, and I'd I just want to-"

"Want to what?" Haechan asks, ears perking up, waiting for a gotcha moment.

"Well, what I usually do." She shrugs, going back to her drink.

Haechan takes everything she says in, nodding his head slowly, "Anyway, it's sort of funny as Mark said the same kinda thing to me the other day...," Haechan takes a sip of his drink, whining when he finds it empty, "He said he missed the old you, or when you guys used to be friends."

She pauses, meeting her waiting friend’s gaze. Her brows furrow. Mark... missed how they used to be? But she doesn't say anything to Haechan, keeping her thoughts to herself.

The usual smug expression returns as he leans back in his chair, leg bouncing under the table out of habit as he crossed his arms behind his head, "Anyway, as I said, you need to get your frustrations out in other ways. You clearly have a thing for each other. The way you express it is a little... unconventional, but you're both immature, so I'm not surprised."

She simply looks at her friend in disbelief, lips parted as she gapes at him, to which Haechan only grins annoyingly at her. He also had a way with words, just like Mark, except he seemed to understand boundaries a lot better, and was chill enough to not want to fight back.

"What? Please tell me you two at least have moments of either flirting with each other or checking the other person out-"

"No." She scowls, shivering at the thought. Though, she couldn't help but remember the way he'd looked at her earlier, brushing off the thought, "It's hard enough to even look at him without wanting to strangle him."

"Okay, so you're into choking, got it." Haechan chuckles, nodding as if to make a mental note of it.

"No, I'm not into that! Whatever, look, I don't have a thing for him, so just drop it." She looks at him with a serious, intense gaze, as if to emphasise the fact she really didn't want to talk about this anymore.

Her friend only nods, putting his hands up in mock surrender, "Okay, just know Mark would definitely jump you if he had the chance - I mean, which guy would put up with your shit? No offence."

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink in hopes it would be refreshing enough to block out her growing irritation, "Anyway, the sooner I get this assignment done, the sooner I can move on from this Mark topic."

She quickly pulls out her phone before Haechan could drop in another one of his grand ideas, finding Mark's contact and immediately sending him a text. She almost spat out her drink at how fast he had responded.

You: Let's just get this assignment done with. I don't feel like getting kicked out of yet another establishment, so just come over to mine tomorrow or something.

You: *sends her address*

Mark: Fun.

Mark: I'll be there around 4 if that works

You: 👍

She bit her nails anxiously, eyes glancing between the door and the clock on the wall - each tick of the hands signalled it was only getting closer to 4, which was when Mark said he would arrive.

That wasn't why she was anxiously boring holes into the clock, however. She could curse the heavens, the earth and the 12 Olympians, but instead, she chose to curse the lust demon himself, aka Haechan. She buried her head in her hands, tugging at the roots of her hair in frustration. She can't believe she dreamt of Mark last night for the first time and, it wasn't just any dream - which was the worst part. Why did her mind have to be so vivid and make Mark so incredibly sexy? She had no idea.

When a knock came from the door, she stood up a little too quickly, rushing to it and praying that Mark looked far from presentable than he had been in her dream. But he wasn't, of course. She'd never seen him in jeans before and the green hoodie was the cherry on top. She swallowed hard, peering up at him as he adjusted his glasses.

"Are you going to let me in?" He raised a brow, his dark eyes glancing over her features in suspicion, taking a quick, subtle glimpse at her plaid sweatpants and pink t-shirt that didn't do much to hide the outline of her bra. He swallowed hard, tonguing the inside of his cheek in annoyance yet, the only thing that swirled in his mind were thoughts of how fucking attractive she was without even trying.

His annoyed expression grounded her temporarily, falling back into her usual demeanour as she rolled her eyes and held the door open wider for him, "If I catch you slacking once, I'll kick your ass out of here."

Mark gives her a side eye, frowning before kicking his shoes off, "Are you trying to motivate me not to do the work?"

She laughs sarcastically, leading him to her room as she props herself on her bed, noticing Mark looking over her interior.

"I expected your place to be put together, but not drenched in pink," his gaze trailed over her shelf, taking note of the various photo frames and mini ornaments.

She chuckles under her breath, pulling out her laptop and notes, "What, too girly for me?"

He turns his gaze to her, a quiet silence envelops them for a moment, and she takes that time to admire him. She knew he was attractive - objectively - but never had she looked at him in that way. The kind of way that made her heart and mind race.

Mark finally straightens up with a shrug, sitting down on the edge of the bed and getting his things out as well.

It felt strange having Mark in her home. If it weren't for getting kicked out of the library, her apartment would have been the last place he would be at. Though, now seeing him sat almost politely at a respectable distance from her, typing away on his keyboard quietly, made it start to feel right somehow.

She opened their shared document, reading the notes he was typing up. Even though he tended to be a lazy ass - or a procrastinator, as he would call it - there was no doubt he had a way with words. When he really put his mind to something, he would always deliver quality work. At times, she'd look back on why they had turned rivals, or enemies, and then she'd see what a complete genius he was. Maybe it was always her. Maybe she was just jealous that, no matter how hard she worked, Mark would always be ten steps ahead.

"I wrote up all the notes," Mark's voice cut through her thoughts, "How far did you get?"

She turned back to her laptop, pursing her lips at the blank screen. When she took her time responding, Mark scrolled down the document to where her cursor was and sent her a deadpanned expression, "What did you say about slacking off...?"

She doesn't know whether to laugh or smack him, so she picks the secret third option and scowls, "I did more work than you yesterday."

"That's old news," he sighed, looking through their to-do list, "I thought you wanted to get this assignment done and dusted because... what was the reason again? Oh yeah, you wanted nothing to do with me."

She scoffs, sitting up as she points an accusatory finger at him, "Don't act like you don't feel the same way."

Mark clears out the already completed tasks on the list, colour coding the other bullet points to distribute the work evenly between them, "Oh I do, and I wonder why." He doesn't even spare her a glance.

"Go on."

"Maybe it's because you continuously bitch over every little thing, it's no wonder Haechan is the only friend you have and, it's probably because he's waiting for some kind of green light," Mark's bitter words reeked of jealousy as he spoke through clenched teeth and narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me?" She shrieks before she leans over the bed and grasps at his hoodie, his hand immediately grabbing her wrist, "That's too far, Mark, even for you."

He raised an unamused brow at her, fingers tightening on her wrists, yet she doesn't waver, "Maybe, but I'm sick of it. All you ever do is complain and treat me like some sort of idiot and, when I give you the same energy, I'm the problem."

His voice is tight, jaw hard as he doesn't break the eye-contact. She pulls him in closer, anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach, "What a joke, you're just as much of a problem as I am and, you know what? Maybe Haechan was right, maybe we need to fuck for us to finally pull our shit together."

The moment those words leave her lips, she regrets them. From up close, he was even more attractive that those words naturally came out. Mark's eyes widened comically and she could almost see the cogs turning in his mind.

His brows furrowed, "Wait, you’re serious? You’re actually suggesting that?" his voice carried a disbelieving tone despite his cheeks growing redder by the minute.

If it weren't for the dream she had last night, or that stupid green hoodie he was wearing right now, she would have laughed it off as a joke or even knocked him out in hopes he'd forget what nonsense she'd just spewed. However, all she could think about in that moment were his hands gripping at her plush thighs, spreading them apart as he lodged himself between her legs, his soft lips parting against hers desperately. She swallowed hard.

"Yes, I am suggesting that," she doubles down, the words more confident now. She knew she wanted him, even if he drove her bat-shit crazy. Even if he'd think she's bat-shit crazy.

It was almost laughable how wide Mark's eyes had gotten, his lips parted in shock, "you're fucking serious, Y/N?" This was too cruel of a joke from someone like Y/N. He knew she would rather curse him out than make absurd suggestions such as sleeping with each other. And the more he thought about it, on top of the intense gaze she carried, the more he believed she was being serious.

She leaned in, her warm breath fanning against his skin. She could smell his musky cologne - it was a scent she felt she could easily get addicted to, "I am serious, Mark," her big, doe eyes peered up at him through her lashes, "Hell, I even dreamt of you last night thanks to that blabby-mouthed Haechan."

Mark suddenly grows flustered, averting his gaze. She dreamt of him? His words practically came out like a croak from the nerves, "H-hey, that's a little..."

She raised a brow, waiting for him to continue his sentence yet he'd only grown quiet, his jaw clenched as he processed the situation. He felt his throat go dry and, the way she was staring at him made him feel breathless - a little too out in the open under her gaze. It was taking everything in him to hold back, but their shared history and his growing annoyance towards her kept him stuck in place.

"What? Mark, don't be a pussy," she scoffed. Despite her harsh words, they had rolled off of her tongue like honey, "Do you want this or not?"

Mark's head whips to her, his brows furrowed, "I am not...," the words faltered on his tongue as his hands came to rest behind her on the bed, his nose brushing against hers. He was way bigger than her, his arms caging her in, looming over her, "I'm not as much of a loser as you think I am, Y/N," the words were bitter; however, he felt like he was falling too deep.

Being this close to her, with her wide, surprised eyes staring back at him, her flowery perfume more prominent at the proximity, and her warm breath... He couldn't find it in him to deny it anymore, "Fuck, I do want this," he muttered, the whispered confession slipping past his lips before he himself could process the words.

At that, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pressing his nose fully against hers, "I want this too." Her soft words drew him in like a moth to a flame and it felt like the string that held onto his sanity had snapped.

Mark pressed his lips to her glossy, pink ones that tasted like cherry, breathing in her flowery scent, to which she parted her lips against his in response. His hands gripped at the soft flesh of her waist, pulling her in impossibly close. He tasted minty, mixing with his musky cologne and it was like she couldn't think straight anymore, losing her grip on reality and, instead, losing herself in him. In Mark. Her supposed enemy and rival.

It didn't take long for her to pull him on top of her, her back falling against the mattress whilst her leg rode up his side, hooking over his hips. He trailed open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck, nipping at her skin and down the valley of her clothed breasts. She was going insane, and it was his fault, "Mark, take off my damn shirt already," she groaned in frustration, sitting up.

He didn't waste any time. Stripping off her shirt, he subtly admired her plush breasts which sat pretty in her lilac laced bra, barely leaving anything up to his imagination. As much as she got on his nerves, he couldn't deny the effect she had on him by being effortlessly gorgeous even as her brows were tightly knit. He pushed her back down onto the bed, planting his hands on either side of her head, "Are you always this demanding?"

"Only with you," she mutters, tugging at his hoodie impatiently, to which he chuckles, taking it off. She couldn’t help but gawk at him, sending him a glare for being more attractive than her dreams could ever do justice.

He kisses her again, his hand trailing down the side of her breasts, not giving her time to run her mouth. Then, his hand pulls the bra down, letting her breasts slip out as he cupped and kneaded the soft mounds, groaning into her mouth at how they fit perfectly in his hand. He rolled the nub between his fingers, grazing his thumb over them.

Mark kisses down her body, taking a nipple into his mouth - biting and tugging at it as his hand continued to twist the other between his thumb and index. He relished in the soft sounds that escaped her lips and the way she tugged at the locks of his hair.

He continued to move down her body, his finger hooking under the waistband of her sweatpants as he met her gaze, "I know you beat my ass over this, but you sure this is what you want?"

She deadpanned at him, "You just made out with my breasts, Mark. If I didn't want this, I would have stopped you there."

Mark just rolls his eyes in response, slipping her sweatpants down, "Could have just said yes."

She's about to retort when she feels his hand cup her, finger tracing the clothed slit of her pussy and she has to bite her lip to stop her from making a sound. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction so soon. Didn't want him to know just how badly she wanted him - more than she'd like to admit.

However, Mark was as stubborn and competitive as she was, and he wouldn't hold back until she gave in. He pushes her underwear to the side, leaning in so that his warm breath fanned against her sensitive folds, causing her to whimper.

'Fuck,' she thought.

Mark, without warning, slowly licks a stripe up her slit, his flat tongue drawing out a shudder from her - back naturally arching. Each time, he'd go in for more, slowly bringing up the pace. Her thighs clamped around his head, holding him hostage until he groaned and grabbed onto her plush thighs, pinning them to the bed; fingers leaving marks along her soft skin. Her own fingers grabbed at anything they could, from the sheets beneath her, to the healthy lock of hair on his head, letting them knot around her digits and tug with every wave of pleasure he had given her.

She could feel his cocky smirk as he sucked on her clit, enjoying every moment of her falling apart on his mouth. Falling apart for him. When he pulls away from her, she let's out a frustrated whine to which Mark only laughs at, "Open your mouth."

She sends him a skeptical look, "Fuck no."

Mark's patience wears thin, "Don't be a stubborn brat now."

Surprisingly, she obliged and he pushes his fingers past her plush, kiss-swollen lips. Her mouth suckles on the digits, tongue swirling around them, and he retracts his fingers with a pop.

"Fuck, your mouth really does have uses other than spewing insults and demands," he teases, voice low, tracing her entrance which had her letting out shallow breaths.

"At least it has more use than your fingers-" her words cut short when he pushes his finger in, palm pressed to her clit as he looks up at her with a 'you sure about that?' look.

It doesn't take long for Mark to add a second finger, curling them in search for the spot that would make her see stars. And then, he finds it, and she let's out a sharp gasp which only grows louder when his lips wrap around her clit, continuing his earlier ministrations of lapping at her folds like a man starved.

Just as her dreams failed in visualising just how attractive her nemesis was, it had also failed in expressing how utterly, impossibly, and irritatingly good he was with his hands, lips, tongue-

"Mark, fuck-!" She starts to tense under him, eyes pierced shut as she chases that feeling of ecstasy.

"I believe I'm getting there...," Mark chuckles, the vibration of his voice fluttering against her.

And, just as she starts to see the twinkling behind her eyelids, the light at the end of the dark tunnel, and a glimpse of the heavens, Mark pulls away, leaving her empty, wanting, and embarrassingly needy.

Forget Haechan, Mark was the number one man on her hit list.

In a second, he's over her again, cupping the back of her neck and lifting her slightly up to kiss her. She can taste herself on his tongue, feel the way his lips apply just the right amount of pressure to say he's here, and it's so soft, so gentle, so wanting - it was the perfect contrast, the perfect contradiction to the image she'd created in her mind of him. His thumb brushes against her jaw, fingers tangling in her hair, before he pulls away, forehead resting on hers as he breaths against her.

His eyes flicker open to gaze down at her; warm and oh so inviting. It felt like the Mark she once knew. The genuine, loving and calming person. Though his next words threw her completely off balance, and she was quick to retract her claims.

"I'm going to fuck that sexy, infuriating attitude out of you, baby," he lets the pet name draw out. In every other context, with any other person, she would have cringed at that word, but it felt so undeniably attractive coming out of his lips, that she wanted to hear him say it more than once.

Mark got up off of the bed, pulling out his wallet to fish for a condom that had been in there for God knows how long, chucking it on the bed next to her and kicking off his jeans and boxers in record speed. She barely had a millisecond to admire the sheer length of him before he was on her again.

His deep brown eyes kept their hold on hers and she could see a subtle hint of affection; the space between his brows crinkling in focus as he slowly pushed into her. His calloused fingers pressed along her waist, leaving white marks along her curves, while she could feel every ridge, vein and pulse of his cock.

When he bottomed out, she immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in impossibly close. Needing him closer to her. She could feel the rough planes of his body pressed to her soft ones as he started to rock against her. He gripped her thigh, pushing it further up so he could angle himself better, remembering the spot that had her seeing stars earlier.

Each time he'd hit that spot, she'd clench naturally, rocking her hips to meet his that had him softly groaning by her ear. He smelt so good, felt so good, was so good. She felt her mind start to fog up, jaw slack from the loud, erotic sounds that forced its way out from her throat. It was too much in the best possible way.

That wasn't as far as Mark would go though, he wouldn't stop at just good. He wanted best. His hand snakes up her body, gently wrapping around her neck - thumb pressed to her jaw - as he applied enough pressure to her pulse point. She knew then that maybe she did actually enjoy being choked or, at least, enjoyed anything Mark did.

She throws her legs around his waist, pulling him down, desperate to feel more of him, to reach her release she craved, pride long forgotten, "Mark... Mark, fuck- please..."

Mark pressed a sweet, uncharacteristic kiss to her cheek, "Please what, baby?" he brushed the strands away from her forehead, never halting his movements.

"Need more of you...," She could barely get the words out, but Mark knew exactly what she meant. Without time for her to process, he flipped her onto her stomach, pressing her face against the pillows, fingers tangled in her silky hair as he snapped his hips into her with more strength.

She could have sworn she started hallucinating seeing stars in the room from how deep he was reaching in this new angle, hitting her spot with added ease. Her glossy lips stayed parted against the pillows, drool staining the cotton case as she let out soft grunts.

Mark's head rolled back at the filthy sounds of her and how fucked out she looked. It made him want to carve this scene into the deepest part of his memory, "You're doing so good for me... So pretty like this."

His soft voice did not match the roughness of his fucking, but it made her clench around him, "C-close..."

Mark hummed, grabbing locks of her hair and tugging it back so that she arches against him, "Be a good girl and come all over my cock, then."

She nods eagerly, reaching behind him to grab at his hips, urging him to go faster, harder. She chased that release as if seeking closure from her pent up frustrations at Mark and hers usual bickering and challenges. She sits up to lean against him, knees pressed to the mattress and head rested on his collarbone - his own arms wrapping around her body. Finally, she came, body shuddering in his hold and, at the feel of her convulsing around his length, Mark bit her neck, muffling his sweet sounds as he followed suit.

They stayed like that for a while, panting, hair sticking to their foreheads. She wouldn't be close to exaggerating by saying this was the best sex she'd ever had, but she would also blame that on the sheer tension they carried for years around one another.

When Mark slips out of her, she fully expects him to make some usual smart comment, but he only pulls her with him as he lay in her bed, keeping his arms around her, "Who knew we'd be so compatible?"

She snorts, "I can name at least one person," she thinks of her best friend, the whole reason this night even happened and speeding up the process between them.

Mark smiles, snuggling into her and letting out a soft sigh, feeling sleep catching up to him, "I hope this isn't just a one time thing, though," he says suddenly with a soft voice, "you don't know how long I wanted this for. Wanted you. It drove me insane trying to be... I guess, respectful and casual about it all."

She sat up, turning to look down at him with a playful look of disbelief, "I call bullshit, you weren't respectful about nothing. Not that I'm complaining, it's attractive seeing you annoyed."

Mark rolls his eyes, smirking at her, his cockiness returning, "I knew you found me more than just objectively attractive, you're down bad."

She easily admits it, "Yeah, I am. But you're in way deeper for asking Haechan for advice of all people."

Mark immediately sits up, his face pale from the shock despite his cheeks being flushed, "Dude- Wait, what?"

"We're on dude terms now after you fucked an outline of my body into this mattress?" she scoffs, her crude words making Mark increasingly more flustered than he already was, "The choking kinda gave it away. I just know Haechan threw that in conversation with you."

Mark laughed sheepishly, pulling her into his chest as he pressed a kiss to her temple, "Guilty as charged. Though, I'm proposing we get back at his arrogant ass by not telling him a thing. We'll slowly drop hints to mess with him a little - see how long it takes for him to catch on."

"I'm in," She giggles, feeling sleep overtake her as she nestled into Mark's chest.

Before today, neither of them would have imagined that fucking each others rival would be the secret to finally ending the long-standing feud and breaking the rival code.

© hyckstarz

[pedroscurls]

robbed of you (one-shot)

summary: the days don't get any easier... and today in particular, you're reminded of that fateful day.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader content warnings: angst (with no happy ending), events in TLOU 2 and that specific scene will set the tone for the story, slight deviation from what happens in that scene, brief mentions of blood and violence, descriptions of grief, no use of y/n. word count: 1.7k a/n: ok, i just wanted to make myself suffer i guess??? this story is set in TLOU 2 after the event so hope that gives y'all some idea of what this story will be lmao. honestly, i listened to robbed by rachel chinouriri and could not stop thinking about joel. maybe i'm trying to prepare myself for what's to come in april lmao. anyway, enjoy <3 song: robbed by rachel chinouriri

“Gotta get up, darlin’,” he whispers into your ear, his strong arms tightening around you from behind. “Annual picnic at the lake.” 

“Just a few more minutes,” you mumble sleepily, leaning into him. 

He chuckles—it comes deep from his chest and vibrates from behind you; you always loved the sound of his laugh. “Lucky I love you,” he says, peppering kisses along your bare shoulder. “But you know Ellie’s gonna be here any minute.” 

“Okay, I’m up,” you giggle, turning around in his arms as you bring your hands to his chest. “That girl can be persistent.” 

“And she won’t let us hear the end of it,” he smiles—dimple appearing on his cheek, deep brown eyes sparkling against the sun that peeks through your bedroom window. 

“Joel?” you whisper, smile falling from your lips. “Don’t go.” 

“Ain’t goin’ anywhere, baby,” he reassures with a smile. “Always gonna be right here.” 

You’re about to say something, but your dream shifts dramatically—your mind is replaying that moment all over again. All you can hear is Ellie screaming. All you can feel is the weight of someone else’s body pressing you against that same tiled floor—helpless. All you can see is his bloodied body on the floor with her standing above him with a golf club. 

“Joel, get up. Joel, fucking get up!” Ellie pleads, wiggling against her restraint. 

Joel’s eye glances at the two of you—those same brown eyes now filled with regret, with fear. With the strength he has left, he flexes his fingers and tries to reach out for you—his girls. He’s helpless. He can’t save you. He can’t save Ellie. He’s going to die.

“Please stop! Please don’t do this.” Ellie continues. “Joel, please get up.”

Then almost as if it’s slow motion, you see her bring the golf club down his skull and his body stops moving—eyes now falling shut. The raise of his chest ceases immediately. Joel’s dead. Joel’s gone. The man you love is killed right before your eyes. 

“Joel, baby…” you mumble, tears now streaking down your cheeks. 

“Nooo!” Ellie yells, sobbing. 

Suddenly, you jerk awake and sit up in bed—chest tight, breath caught in your throat, and you look around the room haphazardly. Tears now fill your eyes and you reach over to rest your hand on the unoccupied space—his side of the bed has been empty for six months now.

The sun peeks through the bedroom window and you bring your legs up to your chest, letting out a loud sob into your knees. Annual picnic, you think. The first picnic without him. How could it already be six months? It still felt like yesterday that both you and Ellie lost him.

You had joined Ellie on her trek to find Abby and the rest of the group. Neither of you talked about him—fueled by anger, pain, grief, and the need to avenge his death. Ellie had told you that killing her would not bring him back, that it wouldn’t make you feel any better—Joel would have been proud of his baby girl. 

“Don’t,” Ellie says. You’re bruised and cut up after having had a physical altercation with Abby. “H–He’s not coming back. This isn’t going to bring him back.”

“He’s dead!” you yell—the unresolved grief, the feelings that you tried so hard to push deep down now coming back up without warning. Tears are strolling down your cheeks and your grip around Abby’s neck tightens. “She killed him! Right in front of us, Ellie… We weren’t supposed to lose him. He wasn’t—,” a sob catches in your throat and you look down at the young woman, frail and defeated, with a pleading gaze in your direction. 

“Y–You took him away from us,” you say through gritted teeth. “He was only doing what he thought was right and he kept that with him all these years! H–He never meant to hurt anyone, never meant to kill anyone…” You squeeze tighter and Abby begins to squirm against your grip. “He was only protecting the people he loved.”

“Stop!” Ellie begs, running over to you and pulling on your arm. “He wouldn’t want this!” 

You look at Ellie and for a brief moment, you see him—the man who you would now spend the rest of your days thinking about, reliving the memories you shared instead of creating new ones with him. “Ellie…”

She stares into your eyes, tears falling from her own face. She looks like the young girl you remember all those years ago when she had first come to Jackson with Joel. “It ends here,” she says. 

You shut your eyes and see Joel—he’s smiling at you, almost nodding in agreement. Then suddenly, you release your grip around Abby and shove her aside, falling back into the water. “Go,” you whisper through tears. “Just take him and go.” 

Ellie sits next to you in the water and you gather her into your arms—for the first time since losing him, you both begin to let out all of the pent up emotions that you and Ellie had pushed aside. 

“He’d be so proud of you,” you tell her, holding her face against the crook of your neck. 

Ellie looks up at you and she cries harder.

Your world ended when you lost him six months ago. Nothing had been the same since coming back to Jackson—heart broken and now an empty home that felt too big for just you. The minute you stepped into the house, you felt your legs buckle underneath you. Everything was untouched—remnants of Joel scattered around. Empty mug of coffee on the kitchen counter. Unfinished guitar in his woodworking room. Reading glasses on his nightstand. 

How could the world continue on when yours ended the day you lost him?

Since coming back from California, you have tried to keep yourself busy. Tried to take your mind off the lingering fact that you would only end the day in an empty home. A home that you once shared with a man that had given you hope in an otherwise hopeless world. 

Ellie wanted to give you your space and even when Dina started to show more and more, you couldn’t bring yourself to go to their house. It just made you sad…because you knew that Joel wasn’t here to see this. Joel wasn’t going to be here to see this baby grow up.

The promises you made to each other—broken, but not by choice. 

“I promise, baby,” he had said. “I will always fight to come home to you.” 

It echoes in your mind now as you gather the blankets and pull it over your head, curling into a ball. Even with the sun shining through your window, your world remained dark. Dull. Empty.

How could you enjoy every day knowing that he isn’t here to enjoy it with? 

You shut your eyes tightly, gripping the blanket in a tight grip as you feel a sob begin to catch in your throat. Sometimes, if you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can hear him. Can see him. Can feel him. 

“I–I can’t do this without you,” you whisper into the empty void. To no one. Tears fall from the corners of your eyes and streaks down your cheeks. “How do I keep going, Joel? How–,” you let out a loud whimper. “You shouldn’t have left. You shouldn’t have–.”

“Shh now, darlin’.” You can hear him—a figment of your imagination. “Just breathe f’me, okay?” 

You inhale deeply and then let out a shaky exhale slowly. It doesn’t help, just makes your cry harder. 

“M’sorry. M’so so sorry.” 

“I love you. I’m fucking sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.” 

Suddenly, you feel a featherlight tingle across your cheek and it makes you open your eyes wide. You can’t see in the darkness underneath your blanket, but you don’t bother to lift it over your head. This—in the dark, alone and away from everyone else—is where you feel closest to him. 

“Today’s our annual picnic,” you mumble. “The first one without you. The first summer without you. The many firsts without you.” 

And then the tingle happens again. It encourages you to continue, but you can feel the ache and weight in your chest—grief, sorrow, regret all encompassing. 

“I just–I just want you here,” you say quietly. “You made my world brighter. I know that may not seem like it considering how we met, but you did. You gave me so much hope, Joel, and now… Now I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to keep on living, to keep on moving forward without you. I–I can’t imagine moving on in my life without you.” 

“You will be okay, darlin’.” Another tingle, a light touch and it raises goosebumps along your arm. “And I’ll always be here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” 

You shut your eyes tightly again and can feel your chest tightening with each breath. You try to curl further into yourself—trying to disappear, to wake up from this nightmare of your life. Behind closed eyelids, you see him—smiling so big, dimple on his right cheek, brown eyes sparkling against the sunlight that glimmers across the water of the lake. It’s a memory from before, a memory from your annual picnic with him and Ellie. 

The days haven’t gotten any easier. Instead, each day is harder than the last and each day you’re always left wondering how you can keep pushing forward. Joel’s absence—his death—has left a gaping hole in your heart that only he could fill. 

Your heart would never be able to stop mourning. 

You feel yourself begin to drift into a light sleep—your sobs quieting slowly. You meet him in your dreams—it’s a whole other life that you find yourself escaping to every chance you could get. Because in your dreams, he’s here with you. He’s alive.

“So, we gonna get up before Ellie barges in here?” he grins. Your dream continues from earlier—the sun peeking through the window as his strong arms pull you closer to him. 

You nod, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Y–Yeah, but first, can we just lay here for a few minutes? I just–I just want to revel in this moment with you for a bit.” 

He nods, presses a soft kiss on your forehead. “Bad dream?” 

“The worst,” you answer shakily. 

“M’sorry, baby.” Joel tightens his grip around you—it grounds you, makes you feel safe. “Anythin’ I can do?” 

You just shake your head and nuzzle your face into his chest. You can feel his heart beating, can feel the warmth of his body, can hear him breathing. “Just stay here with me.”

“Always,” he whispers. “I love you.”

[lara4eclipze]

— 𝓑reakin' dishes

— ( 🎻 ) I'm breakin' dishes up in here, all night (uh-huh) I ain't gon' stop until I see police lights (uh-huh) I'ma fight a man

meret manon x fem reader, jealousy, angst(?), fluff, mentions of men , party, swearing, protective!manon, loser!reader, wc [?], tags listed below

manon had been excited about this party for the longest time — she had everything planned out, what she would wear and how it would match what you'd wear too

it was the annual hybe anniversary party — all sorts of idols and staffs will be there which intimidated you, i mean not to be boastful or anything but your girlfriend is one of the most talented people ever which is why she'd probably not recognize the problem of you coming along

you are a very private person, barely posting on your socials nor making that many friends — you talk to 4 people max

"come on love, I'll be there! — and the rest of the girls" manon says convincing you as she applies her gloss, you have worn a black cocktail dress with pearl accessories which the ghanian also had to force you to wear

"plus look at you, you're the prettiest girl right now — and every day, i swear my love no one would judge you" the older compliments with that smug grin plastered on her face

"okay enough of you miss bannerman" you roll your eyes at manon due to her teasing — you both walk out of the apartment her hands on your waist as if you were gonna run off which made you internally laugh

during the drive, you felt the older woman's eyes glued on you, you smirk a bit because of how flustered she makes you over small things

manon is the epitome of obsession, even her members can testify to that, her wallpaper? you, her necklace? your initial, everything is you basically

the place was lively and loud to say the least, many famous faces were running around, dancing even singing — manon's eye immediately lit up with excitement which you found adorable

the party was amazing, you and manon had a great time, well until she got sweeped up by her friends, it was scary to you especially you didnt know anyone at all and not to mention you didnt even work under hybe

manon was busy talking to some friends and god you couldn't stop staring at her she looked so beautiful under the messy lights, her lips looked much more enticing especially when it was covered in liquor

"hey there pretty" you hear a man snicker behind you, despite your initial discomfort you decided to talk to him, he reeked of alcohol and he wasn't much of a looker neither

"hi" you shortly responded turning your attention back at your phone, but he was just getting closer by the second the next her hand was on your chair

"come on flash me a smile, don't be rude" his annoying remark well annoyed you, you wanted to push him off but it wouldn't be right since you barely knew this dude

his hands suddenly grasp your shoulder and you froze in spot, mainly out of fear and partly disgust, a man had this much audacity even when you have shown clear signs of dislike to him

"are you fucking mute or what bitch" the man sneers you wanted to run but you were unfortunately cornered and no one would look at where you were sitting

your hands started getting sweaty from fear as your heart thumped against your chest, the urge to scream was definitely there but you couldn't bring yourself to

"hey get the fuck off her, are you seriously cornering my girlfriend?" you hear manon speak behind the man pushing him off you as he falls you see a look of anger flashing in his eyes

manon was even more mad though, her stance indicated she was ready to fight if needed, her fists clenched and her eyes darken, "ill give you a chance to fucking leave or I'll get security to drag you out" manon mutters trying to relax

you look at manon, very grateful you had a strong girlfriend but scared that she might get hit by the dude, you walk up beside her holding her arms with yours

"let him be, let's go please" you silently plead to the older girl, afraid of the lengths she would go to for you, especially when she had seen how the guy disrespected you

manon scoffs, holding your wrist tightly as you two walk away, going near the rest of the kats, worry plastered all over their faces as they notice the oldest demeanor

at home the ghanian girl looked rather guilty, as she watches you get ready for bed — her eyes telling you just how bad she felt

"baby, are you alright?" you ask manon, sitting beside her as you trace circles on her arms a comforting gesture that had always calmed her down

"i just- I'm so annoyed with myself, I thought you were flirting with that dude earlier, that's why I stormed over" manon admits her eyes watery, as her lips pout out

"baby its alright, i understand i should've told him off when it started" you coo at her

"but still, i shouldn't be that easily jelous" manon frowns, "but its okay!, manon we all feel emotions — i understand how you felt now stop being mad at yourself" you respond

"and hey you defended me from that creep, okay? don't be harsh on yourself" you mutter taking the girls face in your hands kissing her cheeks till it was tinted pink

"i love youuu, please don't stop being jealous i find it quite hot" you whisper to the girl who cracks a smile at your declaration

"i swear i was gonna beat him up-" you cut off the older kissing her lips "okay maybe not that aggressive, love"

note : hi ppl sorry for lack of updates life has js been hectic for me :((, anyways love u alll!!!

[just-some-random-blogger]

ONCE AGAIN A VICTIM TO MY OWN INABILITY TO CONSUME MEDIA FOR GOODNESS KNOWS WHY. A TRUE SHAME I HAVEN'T READ THIS SOONER BECAUSE IT IS BOP A BANGER A SHOWSTOPPER A STUNNER AND I AM IN NEED OF A NEW SET OF PANTS

The sun crested the horizon, shades of violet, clementine, and rose, and still, Bill and the others hadn't returned from Hogwarts.

Oh my GOSHHH 😫😫😫😫😫😫😭😭😭😭😭 I say this all the time but GOSHHHH you can really tell if a fic is gonna be good from the first sentence and how they open the story. I so fucking sorry for breathing the same air are you my goddess. Am I bothering you? Also wtf bill in Hogwarts???? Did he leave his homework or smth?

The full moon lingered at the edge of the sky, obstinate in its refusal to dip below the trees. You'd begged Bill not to go out while the moon hung bloated in the sky, an unusual, ominous shade of red.

If there's one thing a man does best is the exact opposite of what you tell him to. How many stories would be rewritten so drastically, how many lives would be saved if you just listened to women 🙄🤚 choke

But he'd gone anyways. Which was fair, you supposed; he wasn't yours to order about. You weren't a couple, despite the simmering tension between you, heightened by the deep connection you’d forged through over a decade of friendship and work and suffering and joy.

Situationship headass 🙄🤚 miss me with that bullshit. NOT THE WE ARENT A COUPLE I WOULD DEADASS ASK BILL WHAT ARE WE THE MINUTE HE LAUGHED AT MY JOKES ID RATHER BE PRESUMPTUOUS THAN BRAIN DEAD *STARTS CHAINSAW*

It was Harry, Lupin, and Tonks that arrived back first, bloodied and beaten, singed by the glancing blow of curses.

WAIT I KNOW THIS i don't BATTLE AT HOGWARTS? OK WE ARE SO ON TO SOMETHING (I've seen edits HAHAAH) it's fine it's ok I don't need background I understand perfectly

Molly ran out to them, screaming for her children, but Remus was quick to assuage her.

.... I know I shouldn't be thinking this but all in thinking is 🫦🫦🫦 hi rem... How are you... Want a baby?

“We don't have a choice,” Remus said, gently nudging Tonks aside and cupping your face. You forced your eyes to focus on his forehead, his crooked nose, his scars, his eyes. “Can you do this?” Remus asked.

OMG TONKS 🫣😅 HI NOT THIRSTING OVER OUR- EH- YOUR HUSBAND also dkskskksksn IDK WHAT I HAD TO SAY BUT HOT. IM TOO BIASED. REMUS I LOVE YOU WE LIKE DIS 🤞 but also tonks 🥺 shes so mother so caring and gentle. Remus being frantic and hot in my head is clouding whatever I wanted to fucking say about this part

No one was sure if he'd been bitten. There was one wound on his right thigh that looked suspicious to Remus, but Bill was in too fragile a state for them to test anything.

... Remus so smart.... 🫦 ITS NOT MY FAULT IM SO DISTRACTED

So you waited, and waited, and waited. Four days of burning fever. Four days of changing head-to-toe bandages. Four days of ladling broth between his chapped lips. Four days of praying to anyone that would listen to spare him. To bring him back to you.

Ok but this was beautifully vivid albeit torturous for YN... Is ok... It's for the plot shhhhh *pushes finger onto lips*

You knew he'd be different, no one suffered an attack like that and remained the same, but you knew that you'd love him anyways. The scars on his skin would pale in comparison to the scars left on his psyche, and you would find whatever strength you needed to help him through it.

Embutido core. Also 🧐🧐🧐🧐🤨🤨🤨🤨 FUCK YOU MEAN ALWAYS LOVE HIM???? UR NOT TOGETHER. GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS SITUATIONSHIP TRUTHER

You'd stitch him together with your own muscle and bone if you needed to.

Oh my gosh

But now that I'm remembering the situationship context.... Cringe as fuck

“Where is she?” He bellowed.

Its giving

MARTHA WHERE IS SHE LOL. I think supes says it tho

He groaned low in his chest, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and heaving a deep breath. His knotted muscles immediately went lax, and he looped an arm around your waist, hauling you into the bed with him. You were shocked at how much strength he still had after a week of bed rest.

First of all. HOT. second of all. SITUATIONSHIP AHHH FUCKIN

“There you are,” he whispered, a throaty purr against your pulse. He drew another deep inhale, nose pressed against your jugular, and you suppressed a shiver.

SNSIIDJSJKS SNIFFING??????????????

“Don't care,” he said, his lips charting a scalding path up your neck, days of stubble scratching mercilessly against the tender skin.

WKSKKSKKKSN WHAT ^^^^^ LAST GIF X2

“It can wait,” Bill snarled, glaring at Remus over your shoulder. “Now get the fuck out.”

OH

IS IT THE WOLF JUMPING OUT OF HIM.

OH WAIT I FORGOT TO ASK COS THE TAGS IS LIKE EARLY STAGES OF WEREWOLF FOR BILL I WAS LIKE HE CANONICALLY BECOMES A WEREWOLF??????? OR IS IT A FIC THING I'm realizing as I type this it's probably a fic thing.

ANYWAY BILL BEING JEALOUS? OF REMUS 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 OK BUT DID YOU WRITE THIS FOR MEEEE TWIRLS HAIR SMILES LIKE SPONGEBOB WAIT ILL GET THE PIC

UHM THIS WASNT THE ONE I HAD IN MIND I WAS THINKING WITH A RAINBOW but I realized it was probably an amalgamation of a bunch of different spongebob images so yeah

Tonks caught you at the end of the hall, grabbing you by the arms. “He's asking for you, but you have to—y/n, listen to me,” she snapped, and you stilled, coiled and ready to flee. “You have to be careful—that kind of trauma…he might not be the Bill you love.”

🥺😭💔 NO CUZ IM CRYING FOR TONKS SHES SO GENTLE AND KIND AND CONCERNED AND WHAT WAS THAT LIKE TO LOVE REMUS LIKE THIS FKJDUDJDJDJ FUCKING HELL *smokes cigarette* (DONT SMOKE)

An uneasyness settled over the house. No longer a question of will he wake up, but what will wake up.

😃 nice 👍

On the seventh day, Bill woke up screaming.

POOR BOY. also I know some of these are out of order. I can't be bothered to reorder them let me slide ily

“Bill,” Remus said, hardening his voice.

🫦 he can join

You weren't sure what it meant, this sudden clinginess. If it was the trauma of almost dying, a head injury making him forget you weren't actually together, or something…else.

🙄🤚 u being hesitant is so telling of ur situationship. AT LEAST YOUR SELF AWARENESS

His family came in next, a cacophonous, emotional ordeal that made your heart ache with relief. With them, he seemed more like himself; the good-natured, charismatic man you'd fallen in love with, and some of your uncertainty ebbed.

My boy

But clearly not 🫵YOUR🫵 boy 🙄🤚

You hadn't hated the intensity from earlier though, quite the opposite, actually. You just wished you knew what caused it, and why you.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄🤚 SITUATIONSHIP FINAL BOSS

Eventually, Bill declared that he wanted to properly shower, and everyone filed out to give him some privacy. When you stood to leave though, his hand tightened around your wrist.

BRUHHHHH SOMEONE PLAY SILVERSPINGS BY FLEETWOOD MAC. PLS SHES NOT STEVIE NICKS BILL IS 😭😭🤚 LORDIE

“Oh, I am. For probably the first fucking time,” he growled, patience wearing thin. “I’ve loved you for ten fucking years, and I almost lost you. So forgive me, darling, I will not be letting you go again.”

Ngl I'm a petty ass who's into schadenfreude and masochism I'd be like AKSHALY NO FUCK OFF 😭😭😭 (I need a lobotomy)

“Bill, we aren't…together,” you argued weakly, a rabbit negotiating the terms of its release from the jaws of a catamount.

IM SAYING WE BEEN KNEW and my gosh my gosh RABBIT ANALOGY???? INSANE WORK DAFAQ OK QUEEN SORRY FOR EVEN TRYING TO WRITE

“Something I'd like to remedy, if you'll have me.” His other hand ensnared your waist, pulling your body flush to his.

NO. EW YUCK. WHAT AM I EASY?

“Are you going to make me beg?” His breath fanned across your lips, balmy and disorienting. Headier than any hit you'd taken from a roll or a pipe.

Yes. I would make you wait and carve your heart out because you need to work for it this is happening too quickly (I SAY AS THEIR SITUATIONSHIP HAS BEEN FORGED A DECADE AGO 🙄🙄🙄🙄🤚🤚😭😭😭😭😭)

“I love you too,” you breathed, and he smiled, bumping his nose against yours before dragging it down your cheek, his hair tickling your lips.

Weak piece of shit 🫵 make him beg

“I know,” he hummed, —

POMPOUS PIECE OF—

— the hot muscle of his tongue laving over the pulse point beneath your ear. “I can smell it on you.”

— SIR IM JUST A HOLE

You gasped, arousal hitting you like a clap of thunder, your thighs squeezing together against your blooming cunt.

SUDDENLY IM NOT MAD AT HER AT ALL I AM HER. I DONT KNOW WHY IM LIKE THIS EITHER WHY AM I MAD AT HER FOR FOLDING FOR BILL SO QUICKLY WHEN I WOULD HAVE THROWN MYSELF AT HIM LIKE SNAP WHAT THE FUCK

He chuckled, the sound low and viscerally pleased. “Can smell that too, baby. Little heart’s racin’ like a rabbit.”

ITS FINE IM FINE HAHAHAH

“You're trembling again,” he said, softening a bit as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Are you afraid of me?”

YES I CAN'T BE ATTRACTED TO A MAN THAT DOESNT SCARE ME A LIL I WILL JUMP YOUR BONES

You shook your head. “Should I be?”

🥺 they're so gentle BUT IM OVER HERE LIKE 🫦🫦🫦🫦 BARK WOOF GRRR

“No, love. Of course not. I'm still me.” He smoothed the hair from your forehead, palming the side of your skull with his long-fingered hand. “But Remus should be if he tries to get between us again.”

🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 REMUS MENTIONNNNNNN HE CAN JOINNN DONT BE A KILL JOYYYYYYY HAHAHHAAHA WHYS HE SO PRESSED OMG YOU WROTE THIS FOR MEEEEE DIDNT YOU YEEEEEEEEEEE WEEEEEEEEEE RAHHHHH

He leaned down, catching your laughter with a lissome press of his lips. The last of your reservation dissipated, dripping out between your thighs as the kiss deepened. His lips were pillowy, tongue tinged with iron and herbs, you leaned into his embrace, content to let him devour you whole.

BILL WEASLEY IN MY ROOM RN CHALLENGE: FAILED 😔😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😞😫💔

CONGRATS ON HITTING 1K, you deserve all the love you're getting and more <3333 for your celebration could i get a thousand stitches with bill? Your writing of him has been completely brilliant, i love the way you characterise him <333

hi my darling!!! thank you much!! I'm so grateful you're here and I hope you enjoy 🫶

1000 stitches | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x reader

cw: MDNI 18+, injuries and blood, near-death experience, early stages of werewolf!Bill , love confessions

1000 things prompt list (closed!) | masterlist

The sun crested the horizon, shades of violet, clementine, and rose, and still, Bill and the others hadn't returned from Hogwarts.

The full moon lingered at the edge of the sky, obstinate in its refusal to dip below the trees. You'd begged Bill not to go out while the moon hung bloated in the sky, an unusual, ominous shade of red.

But he'd gone anyways. Which was fair, you supposed; he wasn't yours to order about. You weren't a couple, despite the simmering tension between you, heightened by the deep connection you’d forged through over a decade of friendship and work and suffering and joy.

You'd loved him all your life, and he wouldn't be Bill Weasley, the man that held your heart hostage, if he didn't plunge headlong into danger, especially where his family was concerned.

Always eager for the hunt.

It was Harry, Lupin, and Tonks that arrived back first, bloodied and beaten, singed by the glancing blow of curses.

Molly ran out to them, screaming for her children, but Remus was quick to assuage her.

“They're right behind us—Molly, you must—Molly listen to me,” Remus snapped, shaking her gently. “Ron and Ginny are fine, but Bill—Greyback got a hold of him.”

You clutched the rusted porch railing of the safe house, limbs going numb as the blood drained from your brain.

“He's alive, but barely,” Remus continued, keeping Molly upright by sheer force of will. “And we don't know if he was—”

“Bitten,” you finished, your voice little more than a whimper. Remus looked up at you, nodding solemnly.

He looked like he was going to say something further, when the others suddenly apparated into the clearing. Ginny ran straight into the house, shouting for the medic assigned to the safe house. Ron and Neville held a body between them, the figure limp as a freshly killed stag and twice as bloody.

Bill.

Your ears began to ring, a monotonous, consuming sound, drowning out all of the shouting. You couldn't breathe.

Was he breathing?

You took a sip of air, lungs burning. You'd breathe for him.

Remus grabbed hold of Molly, keeping her out of the way as they carried Bill into the house. Up the stairs and towards you, five steps away, three, one—Ron caught your eye as they passed, looking for too guilty for a boy of only 18, but he quickly looked away, struggling under the weight of his much larger brother.

More members of the Order ran out to help carry him, relieving the boys of the burden, and you could only stand there, staring down at the twin smears of blood where Bill's feet had dragged across the threshold. Staining the stone forever.

Tonks was speaking to you, her hands on your shoulders, but you couldn't hear her, could only stare at the red, red, so much red. Too much red. How could he have anything left?

“We need more hands!” You heard someone call, the words filtering in through the din in your mind.

Hands, hands. You had hands, you could help.

“Tonks—”

“I don't think that's a good idea—”

“We don't have a choice,” Remus said, gently nudging Tonks aside and cupping your face. You forced your eyes to focus on his forehead, his crooked nose, his scars, his eyes. “Can you do this?” Remus asked.

“I-I can,” you affirmed, your voice sounding far away. Like someone else had spoken through your mouth.

“Good, let's go.”

It took more than five hours to stitch all of Bill's wounds. He'd been savaged, butchered, by Greyback. Almost unrecognizable under the swelling and bruising and gore.

The fact that he survived was nothing short of a miracle.

No one was sure if he'd been bitten. There was one wound on his right thigh that looked suspicious to Remus, but Bill was in too fragile a state for them to test anything.

So you waited, and waited, and waited. Four days of burning fever. Four days of changing head-to-toe bandages. Four days of ladling broth between his chapped lips. Four days of praying to anyone that would listen to spare him. To bring him back to you.

You knew he'd be different, no one suffered an attack like that and remained the same, but you knew that you'd love him anyways. The scars on his skin would pale in comparison to the scars left on his psyche, and you would find whatever strength you needed to help him through it.

You'd stitch him together with your own muscle and bone if you needed to.

On the fifth day, many of his wounds had finally healed down to pearlescent, puffy scars thanks to the medics magic. Deep gauges littered his torso and arms, creating new dips and valleys along the lean muscles of his body, a topographical map you could study for eons. The slashes across his face was healing better than anyone dared hoped, and he finally was beginning to look like Bill again.

But the wound on his thigh remained stubborn, pulpy as rotten fruit and refusing to knit together, growing more putrid the more magic that was thrown at it.

An uneasyness settled over the house. No longer a question of will he wake up, but what will wake up.

On the seventh day, Bill woke up screaming.

You were in the kitchen, helping Neville prepare the evening meal, when a roar shook the cedar bones of the old house.

You dropped the dish in your hands with a crash, roast and root vegetables exploding all over the grubby tile floor, and leapt over it, flying up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Tonks caught you at the end of the hall, grabbing you by the arms. “He's asking for you, but you have to—y/n, listen to me,” she snapped, and you stilled, coiled and ready to flee. “You have to be careful—that kind of trauma…he might not be the Bill you love.”

“I don't care.” You yanked free from her hold and dashed down the hallway. You burst into the room Bill was being kept in, a white-washed guest room on the quieter, darker end of the house, and found Ron, Arthur, and Remus desperately trying to restrain a frantic Bill on the bed.

“Where is she?” He bellowed.

You shoved Ron aside and flung your arms around Bill's neck, throwing your weight on him in the hopes of keeping him down.

“I'm here, I'm right here,” you soothed, not bothering to hold back the tears of relief streaming down your face and into his ruddy hair.

He groaned low in his chest, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and heaving a deep breath. His knotted muscles immediately went lax, and he looped an arm around your waist, hauling you into the bed with him. You were shocked at how much strength he still had after a week of bed rest.

“There you are,” he whispered, a throaty purr against your pulse. He drew another deep inhale, nose pressed against your jugular, and you suppressed a shiver.

“Are you alright? You didn't tear anything open—”

“Don't care,” he said, his lips charting a scalding path up your neck, days of stubble scratching mercilessly against the tender skin.

“Bill,” you argued, a fire sparking in your lower belly. You tried to push back a bit from his hold so you could inspect his bandages, could escape the intoxicating effect of his newfound affection. His grip tightened, bordering on painful, and a rumble resounded from the barrel of his chest. Something carnal, possessive, and you immediately dissolved back into his arms. Helpless to resist him.

“A ripped stitch isn't going to kill me,” he mumbled into the downy space behind your ear, his voice so much softer than whatever beast had been roused moments ago.

“Bill, we really need to do a full examination,” Remus interrupted gently. “What you've gone through—”

“It can wait,” Bill snarled, glaring at Remus over your shoulder. “Now get the fuck out.”

You gasped, shocked by his crude language, the aggressive edge to his voice. Bill was hardly the delicate sort, but you'd never seen him be outright hostile. Especially not towards his friends and family.

“Bill,” Remus said, hardening his voice.

“Please, just let them check you,” you whispered, stroking his cheek. “It'll give me and your family peace of mind.”

His eyes fluttered closed as you soothed him, his breathing leveling out. From bestial to docile in the span of a few heartbeats. “Only if you stay,” he answered finally, opening his eyes to look at you.

“I'm not going anywhere,” you assured, and he finally let you untangle yourself.

The medic came in first, checking all of his stitches and his vitals. Besides the wound on his leg, he was mostly healed, just some soreness and a slightly elevated temperature and heart rate.

His hand only left your body when the doctor needed it for something, otherwise he maintained contact through the entire examination.

You weren't sure what it meant, this sudden clinginess. If it was the trauma of almost dying, a head injury making him forget you weren't actually together, or something…else.

His family came in next, a cacophonous, emotional ordeal that made your heart ache with relief. With them, he seemed more like himself; the good-natured, charismatic man you'd fallen in love with, and some of your uncertainty ebbed.

You hadn't hated the intensity from earlier though, quite the opposite, actually. You just wished you knew what caused it, and why you.

Eventually, Bill declared that he wanted to properly shower, and everyone filed out to give him some privacy. When you stood to leave though, his hand tightened around your wrist.

“Don't go,” he said, drawing you back towards him. He was standing, propped against the bedframe for support.

“But you said you wanted to shower?” You blinked up at him, completely perplexed by this dramatic shift in his demeanor. Bill had never been very physical with you, besides platonic hugs and shoulder bumps.

“Help me,” he murmured, tilting your chin up.

Your heart stopped. “W-what?”

“Are you going to make me beg?” His breath fanned across your lips, balmy and disorienting. Headier than any hit you'd taken from a roll or a pipe.

“Bill, we aren't…together,” you argued weakly, a rabbit negotiating the terms of its release from the jaws of a catamount.

“Something I'd like to remedy, if you'll have me.” His other hand ensnared your waist, pulling your body flush to his.

“I'm not sure you're thinking clearly—” you tried to take a step back, but his grip turned to iron.

“Oh, I am. For probably the first fucking time,” he growled, patience wearing thin. “I’ve loved you for ten fucking years, and I almost lost you. So forgive me, darling, I will not be letting you go again.”

You liquified, muscles and bone turning to simpering goo in his arms. You didn't care if it was the pain medicine, or a head injury, or lycanthropy. All you'd ever wanted was to hear those three little words.

“I love you too,” you breathed, and he smiled, bumping his nose against yours before dragging it down your cheek, his hair tickling your lips.

“I know,” he hummed, the hot muscle of his tongue laving over the pulse point beneath your ear. “I can smell it on you.”

You gasped, arousal hitting you like a clap of thunder, your thighs squeezing together against your blooming cunt.

He chuckled, the sound low and viscerally pleased. “Can smell that too, baby. Little heart’s racin’ like a rabbit.”

Oh, fuck. You swallowed thickly, throat closing as fear pumped through your blood, mixing into a strange ichor with the ever-present desire for him.

“You're trembling again,” he said, softening a bit as he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Are you afraid of me?”

You shook your head. “Should I be?”

“No, love. Of course not. I'm still me.” He smoothed the hair from your forehead, palming the side of your skull with his long-fingered hand. “But Remus should be if he tries to get between us again.”

A laugh bubbled up before you could stop it, inundated with both dread and delight.

He leaned down, catching your laughter with a lissome press of his lips. The last of your reservation dissipated, dripping out between your thighs as the kiss deepened. His lips were pillowy, tongue tinged with iron and herbs, you leaned into his embrace, content to let him devour you whole.

[myun-saidthoughts]

12th House & 8th House Themes Using Song Lyrics:

"I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me." (Stevie Nicks)

"No one has come close to you, and I don't think anyone will." (Sydney Rose)

"I don't ever tell you how I really feel, 'cause I can't find the words to say what I mean." (Harry Styles)

"I know I'm not your only, but I'll still be a fool, 'cause I'm a fool for you." (Harry Styles)

"You're not wasting time stuck here like me... The world ended when it happened to me." (Sydney Rose)

"I needed to lose you to find me." (Selena Gomez)

"And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone." (Olivia Rodrigo)

"I was still yours....Even when you weren’t mine." (Nessa Barrett)

"I wish that I could hate you, my baby....I wish that when I left, you'd've chased me." (Charlotte Lawrence)

"You're all that I think about, I even see you when I'm dreaming." (Charlotte Lawrence)

"Cause I've got my mind on you...I've got my mind on you." (Lana Del Rey)

"Say yes to Heaven, say yes to me." (Lana Del Rey)

"Lighting me up like Venus, but then you disappear and make me wait." (Selena Gomez)

"It's like I can't breathe without you inside of me." (Kelly Clarkson)

"It's like I can't think without you interrupting me, in my thoughts, in my dreams, you've taken over me." (Kelly Clarkson)

"We go 'round again, we jump back in bed... That's what you do when you love somebody." (5SOS)

"I'm eating breakfast in bed ever since you left, I'll never love again." (Nessa Barrett)

"I tell myself to run from you, but I find myself attracted to my dilemma." (Selena Gomez)

"And I know what I know, and I know you're no good for me." (Selena Gomez)

"I know I let you have all the power, and I realize I'm never gonna quit you over time." (Kelly Clarkson)

"The bed's getting cold and you're not here... But I'm not alive until you call." (Selena Gomez)

"I just wanna call you home...Even when I know you don't." (Sadie Jean)

"I'm trying not to let it show, that I don't want to let this go." (Halsey)

"Just a little bit of your heart is all I want." (Harry Styles)

"There's a million reasons why I should give you up, but the heart wants what it wants." (Selena Gomez)

"I wish I knew what you were feeling." (Charlotte Lawrence)

"Wish I could make you want to, 'cause you're something I can't undo." (Hollyn)

"I needed to hate you to love me." (Selena Gomez)

"The ground beneath our feet was never sure, so you always had one out the door." (Hollyn)

"This dancing was killing me softly." (Selena Gomez)

"You make me so upset sometimes, I feel like I could lose my mind." (Selena Gomez)

"Fighting every instinct while you hold your pride." (Charlotte Lawrence)

"I should've seen it coming...Every time we say goodbye, I say hello again." (5SOS)

"Can't help the way I keep ignoring every omen...Heaven knows I should let go." (5SOS)

"Close my eyes and see your face...I could stay right here for days." (Sadie Jean)

"You won’t give your heart a chance to break, standing in the shallows safe." (Hollyn)

"But your lips hang heavy underneath me, and I promised myself I wouldn't let you complete me." (Halsey)

"There's so much of you that I ignore, 'cause every time you hold me, I feel warm." (Hollyn)

"Picturin' you happy...Somewhere lookin' at me...Wonder if it ever works...Waitin' on the universe." (Sadie Jean).

"These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real...There's just too much that time cannot erase." (Evanescence)

"When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears...When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears". (Evanescence)

"Cause you'll be safe in these arms of mine...Just call my name on the edge of the night and I'll run to you...Even if it's gonna break me." (Lea Michele)

[angelyuji]

I really love your Yandere!Cecil stuff and its kind of my favorite rn! But was was wondering if you could do something soft-ish Yandere?? I gues??? I don't know what I'm talking about. Like ___ has Superpowers and Cecil and them got together after he was made the Director of the GDA. ___ Has been a hero so long that they're tired, exhausted even, and then they talk to Cecil about it. Cecil would be surprisingly okay with the idea of hiding them away so they could have a break. Cecil knows they can take care of themselves but can't help but panic and obsess over them. Cameras watching the house and town (not everyone's a spy cause she knows a lot of the agents from working with them for so long) as well as a secret tracker implanted in them after a really big kidnapping accident as a hero (came in handy?) But like a soft but dark yandere Cecil.

I'm sorry if this really long and detailed but if you give it the time to think it over, thank you so much! 🙇

hello my silly!! long and detailed is what i like best :) pause...

i honestly see cecil is a pretty soft yandere unless he's panicky and you're getting on his nerves. (or just not listening/understanding him)

i see what you're cooking tho so lemme see if i can expand on that. also fun fact: im supposed to be studying rn... but... i cant get cecil out of my head so...

cw // yandere, kidnapping (not cecil initiated), nonconsenual body modification, nothing too coo-coo in the fic (just... implications of coo-coo if u read into it), kinda voyeurism

crazy yan!cecil headcanons at the end so cw // manipulation, emotional/financial abuse, abuse of power, gaslighting (kinda... from me lmao)

"i need to get out, cecil." you were tired. it was exhausting, this job. everything has fallen onto your shoulders with the guardians gone, omni-man a murderer, and now a viltrum takeover on the horizon. you were drained, physically and mentally. "i know, you need me, but invincible and atom eve and all the others are adults now. so..." you look to him and cecil stares at you, his face unreadable. "please... say something."

"(y/n)... if this is what you want, i'll do it for you." cecil sighs.

"really?" your bottom lip quivers as you hold back your relieved tears. cecil smiles slightly, reaching out to cup your face. you lean into his warmth.

"honey, i'd do anything for you."

you wash the dishes, mind wandering to your lover. cecil had come over as if knowing you had missed him. you feel his lips touch your neck as he wraps his arms your waist, "we can finish the dishes tomorrow, how about you come to bed..." his lips trace down your neck to pepper your shoulder.

you giggle at the feeling, "i'd rather get it down now, so we can sleep in tomorrow." he sighs, giving in quickly. cecil rubs your arms, massaging your biceps as you finish up. you turn in place, throwing your arms around his neck, "now, let's go have some fun."

cecil couldn't think straight, you had been missing for 4 days now. every hero was searching for you, but he couldn't do anything. all he could do was wait for the assholes to reach back out with their demands. all he could do was sit around and wait. "what the hell kind of partner am i, donald." he rubs his scar, his reminder.

"sir, we're going to find them." donald's voice is calm, but nothing could settle cecil's heart until he could see you again... alive. hours pass before the first demand comes in.

his heart burns as he sees your face, you were beaten and bloody, almost unrecognizable. "play the video." cecil's voice was thick, holding back his anger and fear. donald tries to say something, but cecil could barely contain his rage, "play the fucking video, donald."

the first second was silent before the screams started, cecil couldn't breathe, the agony and pain in your beautiful voice. you were sobbing as they started to beat you once more. "we're going to keep fucking up your pretty little hero's face until we get what we want. 10 million, a jet, and some nice...." someone whispers, "yeah! some nice machine guns too, add those in. you guys get 2 hours or we kill this bitch." someone whispers again, but the sound of a train passing covers it up. "oh yeah, bring it to-" cecil can't listen, his brain focused on you. his love, his world, you were mouthing something. the video ends with another warning.

"they're giving us the location." cecil's eyes widen. before long, the GDA had sent your location to every hero they had. you were unconscious when you were brought in and cecil couldn't rest. what if this happened again? what would he do if the next time, you couldn't help them figure out where you were? what if the next time, you were brought back in a body bag?

"mr. stedman?" the doctor looked nervous, "i did what you asked, the tracker. are you sure they want-"

"where is it in them?"

"left bicep, they won't feel anything, they won't even know its there. but... are you sure they wanted-"

"are they awake yet?" cecil didn't have time for the doctor and her moral conundrum. she nods, stepping aside for cecil. cecil stops to lean in, "if i hear you breathe a word about this to anyone, especially them, you won't live to see another day. are we clear?" she nods, shaking.

"hey neighbor!" dave smiles at you as he waters the flowers in his front garden. you wave back, grabbing the mail. "your husband left already? i wanted to meet him." dave frowns, playfully.

"oh- he's not-" you pause, "yeah, he has another work trip, unfortunately. i'll invite you and janet for dinner when he comes back!" the two of you chat for a second before you go back inside. cecil smiles, hearing you call him your husband. donald clears his throat behind him.

"what." cecil sighs, moving his attention away from the cameras in your town.

"immortal and dupli-kate want to talk to you about their retirement."

"christ, donald... fine. give me a minute..." cecil sends you a quick text 'i miss you.' "you know (y/n)'s neighbor, dave... butler. is he one of ours?"

donald taps at his tablet, "no, sir, that's one of the civilians." cecil hums, satisfied. 'i miss you too, come home soon <3'

this is unrelated to your ask, but someone asked me what they think would happen if you tried to run after figuring everything out (in the case of civi!reader but ill touch on supe!reader too cuz i love u guys)

cecil has a tracker in you. and i mean that literally. it's pretty easy to make people do things if you're the leader of the GDA lol

if you run, cecil will know. he has cameras, not only in your house, but all over the town you're in. he has all of your financial activity monitored and also this man has/had (depending on what season we're talking here) the strongest superheroes in the world following his orders

there's no where you could go that he wouldn't find you especially if you're a regular person

you could try, if you cut the tracker out of you or smth, but like... why would u... he's not hurting you or hurting your family :( he's only watching your every move and isolating you from the real world so he could be the only one who gets to be with you :((( is that so bad???

i feel like if u did run, u couldn't go to your family for help

cecil would probably reach out to them first talking abt some "mental break" and he needs to get to u first before u do something crazy

and why wouldn't they believe the kind government man that you've only ever spoken kindly about

anywho i love cecil and i want him to impregnate me WOAHHH WHO SAID THAT

[chroniclesofskz]

31 days apart

"I can't believe you forgot the milk again!" Y/N yelled at the empty fridge, her voice echoing through the quiet apartment. It was one of those days where everything felt off, like the universe was conspiring to annoy her. She slammed the fridge door shut and tossed the empty cereal box into the trash, resigning herself to a sad breakfast of black coffee and dry toast.

Her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, and she checked the screen, hopeful for a text from Chan. But it was just another work email. She missed him more than she cared to admit. Their relationship had been a rollercoaster of passion and companionship, but this was the first time he'd been away for so long. Thirty-one days, to be exact. Thirty-one days since she'd felt the warmth of his body next to hers, the gentle touch of his hand, or the way he'd make her toes curl with his magical mouth.

"Maybe I should get a dog," she mused aloud. "At least it'd be around to keep me company."

As the day dragged on, Y/N found herself counting down the hours until she could call Chan. They had a standing "good night" call, but tonight she needed more. The ache in her chest was palpable, and she couldn't ignore the wetness pooling between her legs. She decided to break protocol and dial his number a few hours early.

The phone rang once, twice, and she was about to hang up when she heard a sleepy, "Hello?"

"Baba, did I wake you?" she asked, her voice thick with need.

There was a pause, and then a groan. "No, baby, I was just… lost in thought."

Y/N felt a thrill run through her body at the sound of his voice. "What were you thinking about?"

He took a deep breath, and she could almost feel him smiling through the phone. "You know what, Y/N. Your sweet little voice is all I need."

The conversation grew more intimate as they talked, the distance between them shrinking with every shared secret and whispered confession. Y/N's hand slid under her shirt, her nipples pebbling at the thought of his rough hands on her skin.

"I miss feeling you inside me," she murmured, the heat growing in her core.

There was a rustling of fabric, and then a click. "Keep talking, baby," he breathed, and she knew he was touching himself, thinking about her too.

Y/N leaned back against the kitchen counter, her hand moving down to her jeans. She unzipped them and slid her fingers under the fabric, stroking the slickness that had gathered there. "I miss the way your fans scream for you," she teased, her voice dropping to a whisper. "They all want a piece of you, but only I get to hear you sing to me, only I get to feel you deep inside."

"Mm," he groaned. "You know I'd rather be back home, fucking you in every way possible than being on this stage."

"I know," she assured him, her eyes closing as she pictured him up there, under the hot lights, singing his heart out. But she also knew that his career was his life, his passion. He was the lead singer of a wildly popular K-pop group, and this tour was his dream come true. She'd always been supportive of his ambitions, even if it meant being apart.

"Tell me more," he urged, his voice growing more strained. "What do you miss about me?"

The words spilled out of her, a mix of love and lust. "I miss your smile when you wake up in the morning, the way you smell after a show, like sweat and cologne and something uniquely you. I miss the way your cock feels, thick and hard, filling me up."

The line grew quiet for a moment, and she could hear his ragged breathing. Then, his voice was in her ear, low and urgent. "Tell me, Y/N, tell me how much you want it."

"So much," she whimpered, her hand moving faster. "I need you so badly."

He groaned, and she knew he was getting closer. "Keep going, baby," he encouraged, his voice tight with restraint. "I'm right there with you."

And just like that, they were connected again, despite the thousands of miles that separated them. The sound of his voice, the thought of his body, was enough to push her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her, making her tremble and cry out his name.

"I'm coming," he grunted, his voice a mix of pleasure and pain. "I love you, Y/N."

They both panted into the phone, the intimate moment hanging in the air like a secret shared in a crowded room. After a few moments, she giggled, feeling a little silly for being so dramatic. "I love you too, Baba. Now go get some sleep. You've got another big show tomorrow."

"I will," he promised, his voice already dropping into a sleepy drawl. "But first, tell me again how much you miss me."

"I miss you so much it hurts," she confessed.

He sighed, content. "That's all I need to hear. Good night, baby. I'll see you in your dreams."

Y/N hung up the phone, a smile playing on her lips. Despite the distance, she felt closer to him than ever. And she knew, deep down, that their love could weather any storm. Even if it meant going thirty-one days without milk.

[hatsbuckets]

Hozier spiral. Please ignore me. (wait no don't) Listening to Hozier and thinking about the 141 boys. I might write something more formal later.

Fuuukkkkkk

Foreigner's God? ffuuukkkkk just ghost but also like sdjgahsdlfjaslkd

Would That I? so ghoap coded.

Take Me to Church? Can't forget this classic. Yeah. You get this one (all of them. it's all of them. Obvi Ghoap. YEs it's GazPrice. IT's GOT SO MUCH FOR SOAPGAZ. But also GhostPrice lowkey???)

Sunlight? oops you're thinking about Gaz and Soap being so lovely and bright. (especially from Price's pov?)

Talk? Ghoap Ghoap Ghoap. "I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around" ??? Asgdhsadjf "I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice" ???? fuukkkkkk "All the things I would do / So I try to talk refined for fear that you find out / How I'm imaginin' you" asldjflakjdsflkj

All Things End??? ALL THINGS END???? All of them. All of themmmmm... I- they know they can die. Expect that they'll die on mission because you have to. and- aasdf

Sing? Look I know but see: GazPrice (or poly141 with Gaz) "Remember when you'd sing before we moved to it? / and we'd scuff up our shoes / Honey, the groove of it / Was whatever you choose / I want to be your lover" asdfjsdjjgh and and "you put your emptiness to melody / Your awful heart to song / you don't have to sing it right" Idk but it's therreeee.

Jackie and Wilson? I mean I see it for Ghoap. Soap just "Blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild / laughing away through my feeble disguise" ???? "She's gonna save me, call me "baby" / run her hands through my hair / She'll know me crazy, soothe me daily / better yet, she wouldn't care." ahhhhhh

Movement? I mean look I see it. I know it's not his most popular song but "and when you move, I'm moved / You are a call to motion" Like Ghost following Soap like idk trust ???? "When you move / I could never define all that you are to me" Just aaahh trust.

Dinner and Diatribes?? The HEEEAAATTT of Ghoap. but also GhostPrice. I don't make the rules.

SHRIKE litterally Ghoap from the staaaarrrtttt "I couldn't utter my love when it counted / Ah, but now I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now / I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted / Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now" "All of that goodness is goin' with you now" crying screaming throwing up

FROM EDEN. FROM EDEN. FROM EDEN. all of them. them. them. them. them. Babe there's something tragic about them. All of them. asdjfhsjdhjsgkjdf. "Idealism sits in prison"? Ghost. "Chivalry fell on his sword" ? sorry but Price. "Innocence died screaming" ? Soap. Gaz. Both. Literally and metaphorically. "Babe / There's something wretched about this / Something so precious about this / where to begin ... Babe there's something broken about this / But I might be hoping about this / Oh, what a sin" Aaasdhfjskdfh also also "To the strand, a picnic planned for you and me / A ROPE IN HAND, FOR YOUR OTHER MAN / TO HANG FROM A TREE" MY GOOOOODDDDD screaming

Cherry Wine??? I can't forget her. I'm sorry, like I know this song is a lot, and I think it is them, all of them with any of them. Especially if you make it like the crazy, gruff (low-key toxic) them, like. I'm- I'm not even going to break this one down. PLEASE JUST GO LISTEN TO IT. Here look: "The way she shows me I'm hers and she's mine / Open hand or closed fist would be fine / The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine" "her fight and fury is fiery, oh, but she loves" "... I'm all but washed / In the tide of her breathing / and it's worth it / it's divine" okay bye.

Someone New? It's my favorite Hozier song. It's so all of them. I'm not gonna lie, in their own way. Just "You knew who I was with every step that I ran to you" like asdhfsoduhgsd. the song just feels like Soap, because he's going around, but he wants that solid man. And ack- dying.

Projecting my favorite little guys on Hozier. I have so many more thoughts.

This man I stg never misses.

Crying in a coffee shop? Couldn't be me.

Anyway byyyyeeeeeee

[havocandcchaos]

You know what scene in Act Two I'm really excited for?

Elphaba gives Glinda back the cloak.

Because, ok, at the end of defying gravity, we have that beautiful moment between the girls where Glinda decides not to go with Elphaba. The girls are staring at each other, and Glinda says, "You're trembling." then she goes and gets the cloak to wrap around Elphie.

Yes, right, we're following, ok. Genuinely one of the sweetest but also most heartbreaking moments in the film. Like, not a dry eye in the house kind of moment.

Now reverse it.

thanks to this lovely tease at the beginning of part 1 (also sidebar, this is the moment I started crying the first time I watched it bc I immediately knew who it was and lost it and all my friends - who had never seen the show and had no idea what happened - looked at me like I was crazy) we know Glinda ends up with the cloak.

so this so my take on how she gets it

The girls just finished singing For Good. They can hear the witch hunters approaching. They're out of time.

Glinda's trembling.

She's about to watch her best friend die, and they both know it. And there's nothing either of them can do about it. This is the end. A single tear rolls down Glinda's face, reminiscent of Elphie and the Ozdust. And just like Glinda did that night, Elphaba reaches up and wipes it away.

Hand still cradling Glinda's face, eyes full of tears, she whispers, "You're trembling"

Both girls share a sad smile at the memory, and then Elphaba unties her cloak and wraps it around Glinda.

Or better yet, she leads Glinda to the closet, pulls it out to make more room for the girl to hide, and wraps it around her there. Either way, Elphaba wraps it around Glinda just like the younger girl did for her 5 years earlier.

It's a mirror image of that moment. They're once again saying goodbye at the top of a tower. They don't know if they'll ever see each other again. It doesn't matter if they will because either way, this is the end. Either way, they're out of time.

Elphaba finishes tying the knot, and for a moment, the world is still. It's just the two of them, the way it used to be on nights that turned to mornings, sharing secrets and stories in the shared dorm neither of them ever returned to. For a moment, they're ok.

They both move at the same time, pulling each other in for one last, almost painful hug. Then Elphaba pulls away and cups Glinda's face once more.

"Hold out if you can," she murmurs and then kisses her. "Hold out my sweet." Elphaba kisses her for the first and the last time and then pulls away.

There are tears streaming down both girl's faces. Elphaba gives Glinda one last smile and winks, then she pulls the curtain closed.

The shot turns back to Glinda fingers pressed against her lips, and silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

The screaming starts, and we know the rest of the story.

Anyway, please, I'm begging, I NEED this.

Jon M Chu, I will pay you all the money I have, which is admittedly not a lot as I am a broke college student, but it's yours if you just give me this one thing.

I can see it so clearly in my mind, and I need it to exist on screen as well.

Anywho, ask me about the other scenes I wanna see in Wicked Part 2 because they set up SOOOO MANY good parallel options, and I want all of them.

Also, I spend too much of my free time thinking about this show.

[thedevilsoftruth]

idk no need to write this unless you want but i was just thinking about buckys first time having sex after catws, maybe when he’s in bucharest or on the run? i just wonder if he would have muscle memory or it would be awkward and tentative, i’d imagine it probably makes him nervous to be with someone after so long

Hi! Good morning and thank you for your ask, anon. 💜

Sheesh, this ones gonna be a heavy hitter.

I can agree with you, and this is something I've actually tried to pick up with writing in the past. I will admit, 2 of the four fics I tired writing/did write turned out a little dead dovey, but I'll just lay this one down on you normally.... Kind of.

When you would first meet Bucky, I think he would have a very, very, very heavy Russian accent. You wouldn't be able to understand him, and he wouldn't be able to understand you.

Imagine his shock when you greet him in English, and he greets you back in English. Now imagine that sort of muscle memory when he's in bed with you for the first time.

To be honest, it's a lot more triggering for him than you would think. A lot more triggering.

You might think that most of the winter solider's work would be done around just killing and killing, but it could get so much darker than. When the 90's and 2000's came along, so did a lot of really heavy music and iconic bands we all know now. Hydra's secret to the winter solider was to make him appeal to people, women and men, who might have had darker tastes. Because that was exactly what was in style, that was exactly what people wanted, and that sort of darker edge was what the solider represented.

( It was kind of symbolic too, because alt/goth/punk/metal/rock fashion and music was built upon rebelling against the social norm and the government. These subcultures were built on pointing out the fascism and the hypocrisy of the government. Hydra putting the winter soldier in outfits that might appeal to those subcultures is ironic because they are the fascist's and he is trying to rebel against them. )

Think about it. They keep him on a motorcycle. They make him wear leather. He has a metal arm with a red star on the shoulder. He wears eye makeup including eyeliner. His hair is dark and long. He wears below knee combat boots. He wears fingerless gloves.

This emits danger. Danger and fear.

Why do I bring this up? Because I think that hydra would purposefully keep the winter soldier attractive with a dark edge specifically so that he could sleep his way around people to gain access to information.

What I'm saying is; Bucky is slowly regaining his memories, and those memories come back around to the weird sexual things he'd do as the winter soldier. Maybe hydra even put in a little programing that was explicit to sexual behaviors?

And if he's having sex with you, while still being considered the winter solider, I think it could go two ways; either he doesn't want control at all because he's afraid of what will happen to you, or, he will refuse to give up his control over you. Because dominance and power could be spiritually healing for him in a way, considering his programing was built purely on him submitting to who ever could activate him.

Maybe, he even speaks a bit of Russian while he's at it.

Now onto the last part of your ask, he would absolutely be nervous to be with someone after so long. It's always raining in his mind, and he can never escape the screams or faces of the hundreds of people he killed in his past. He knows how dangerous he is. He knows he can hurt you. The smallest trigger could send him down a spiral, could cause him to even get violent.

So he's reluctant.

He doesn't even know if he wants to do it with you until he can get hydra/the winter soldier out of his mind.

But the way you cradle his face in your small hands and kiss him tells him that maybe he's a little paranoid. But he has every reason and right to be paranoid, and that is something you remind him. But you also remind him that he is safe around you and that you will never lash out at him or hurt him. Even if he hurts you.

He doesn't like his bed, he doesn't deserve one.

So maybe he sits on a chair with you on his lap? On the table? On the floor against a wall? And he lets you get the pleasure you need from him. He's surprised how good it feels; pleasure is something be doesn't deserve either.

He's not very talkative. He can't speak English well. But you whisper to him how pretty he is, and you praise him for how good he is to you. And it makes him feel safe. It makes him feel loved. Even if he does not deserve that love.

Well done, solider.