#if this is incoherent keep it to yourself as I said it is midnight

[torterrachampion]

Chloé and Jeanne's relationship is everything to me actually.

Does Jeanne know? Does she know that when Chloé was in the deepest depths of despair the only thing she wanted was to see her again? Doesn't it make you feel insane!? And in a series like vnc Chloé wanted to die with Jeanne next to her or at Jeanne's hands!?

Even more, she ultimately decided not to make Jeanne carry the burden of her life when she saw how much pain it was causing her. But Jeanne carried the burden anyway! She's a tool for killing and she couldn't even take Chloé's life when she asked for it! Saving her was beyond Jeanne's imagination, but when given a second chance she at least wanted to be the one to kill her as she once wished.

The fact she failed the first time is in itself so foul. Jeanne's deathly afraid of someone else getting hurt because she disobeys orders but who did she have to care about but Chloé? Was there even anyone else left for her to fear losing at that time? There probably wasn't anything worse than Chloé dying.

She wanted to save Chloé so much! That latent desire is probably the only reason Jean-Jacques survived her. The second she receives the support she so badly needed Jeanne puts her all into saving her! Jeanne started the arc feeling like she made a mistake not killing her and ended it feeling like she made a mistake not trying to save her!

The fact that Jeanne reaching out to Chloé was given equal weight to Jean-Jacques means so much to me. Their relationships to her are very different but they were both just as necessary to save her. There is no hierarchy when it comes to how and why they love her. Jeanne and Jean-Jacques were both necessary to get Chloé to get through to her in the way she needed.

I can't be normal about them. They carried their affection for one another for over a century based on a short, almost insignificant period in each of their lives. The small kindnesses and company they offered one another was enough to form a basically unconditional bond between them.

Also absolutely insane that Jeanne ends the arc helping Chloé find the strength to keep living then immediately turns around and reaffirms Vanitas's promise to kill her. Truly a woman of all time.

Anyway, best female friendship in a mochijun manga.

[nicksbestie]

On The Phone - M. Sturniolo

Summary : the one where your boyfriend is in los angeles, you're in boston, and he misses you, so he calls you late at night.

Warnings : 16+ content. i am not responsible for the media you choose to consume online. sub!matt, dom!reader, praise kink, begging, slight edging + a little bit of overstimulation, this is entirely focused on matt!!

Word Count : 2361

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : matt gives sub vibes so badly idc argue with the wall... enjoy this little dumpster fire!!

You were in Boston, and your boyfriend was at his home in Los Angeles.

You didn’t like the long distance aspect of your relationship, but you understood that it was necessary due to your boyfriend’s career, and you supported him wholeheartedly. However, that didn’t mean that you didn’t miss Matt all the time, and it was clear that he missed you as well. With this being said, it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to be spending hours upon hours on your individual phones, texting back and forth. Nick texted you every so often, frustrated about how many clips of Matt texting he had been forced to edit out of the video, because he had been so distracted by you the entire time. You found it funny, but hated that it caused extra work for Nick, so you tried to give Matt his personal space when he was filming, despite him not quite wanting you to do so. 

Tonight was one of those nights. They were out filming, and it was past midnight, so you knew Matt wouldn’t be home for a good little while. You missed him, as you hadn’t talked as much that day, but you were an independent woman, and you could handle yourself for a few hours until you got to talk to him again. So, since you were a little bored so late at night, you decided to experiment with new makeup looks, dress up a little bit, just for some fun for yourself. So you got out of bed, playing some music off of your phone as you turned on your bathroom overhead light, singing along as you style your hair around your face. You loved to dress up, even if it was for no reason, because it always made you feel good, feel pretty, or depending on what you were wearing, hot. You had a thin, white, sheer dress that you’d never worn, something that would never be worn outside of the house, because it was solely for Matt’s eyes. 

You slipped it on, being careful not to mess up your hair, choosing to put it on before you did your makeup, so that there was less risk of it being damaged, as that was much more difficult to fix than your hair. Smiling into the mirror, you began your makeup, changing your music to a new playlist. By the time that you were finished, it was past one in the morning, but you felt wide awake. You were enjoying yourself, and time was flying by, so you were confident that Matt would be back from filming any minute. You knew you looked beautiful, and you didn’t deny the fact that you were taking a ton of photos, some that might end up going on your Close Friends story, but most of them were solely to send to Matt. You had your boyfriend on Life360, so you saw when he got home, and when you got that notification, you sent a couple of the more revealing photos, complete with them being covered in the iMessage invisible ink feature, just in case his brothers were around. 

Matt responded incredibly quickly, a fast stream of partly incoherent messages. You smiled at them, loving how reactive he was to just a few simple photos. Your boyfriend was completely whipped, and you absolutely adored it. You simply sent back a smile and a heart, changing the subject to how filming had gone that early morning. You knew it was likely that he was worked up, and you knew that if you changed the subject, he wouldn’t argue with you, but you didn’t doubt that he was flustered behind the screen. You kept the conversation steered away from anything to do with how you looked or how he felt for the next hour, keeping him talking about YouTube, how every other part of yours and his day had been, knowing that there was a high possibility he was desperate for the subject to be changed. You didn’t send him all of the suggestive photos that you had taken, keeping some of them kept in your favorites for later, whenever they were needed. 

After a certain point, you broke, causing Matt’s phone to ring with an incoming FaceTime call. He answered almost immediately, his eyes widening, smiling as he saw your face. He didn’t think the photos had done you justice, and he made sure to tell you just how beautiful you looked. You smiled, striking up another casual conversation, taking in the fact that he was in his room, half sitting up against his headboard, and very obviously missing a shirt. You couldn’t deny that the messiness of his hair only added to his attractiveness, making you continue speaking to him as you simultaneously sent him another picture. You could hear his phone vibrate twice as the message went through, and you saw his screen light change as he opened his messages, his mouth dropping slightly open as he took in the photo. You could hear his breath slightly hitch, and you simply smiled as you asked him if he had even heard your original question, laughing inside at his flustered attempt to respond, his cheeks flushing red. 

Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, you tapping through social media, uploading some of the pictures with more coverage to your close friends, and one of just your face to your public story. Matt was the first one to view both of those, liking them both and sending red hearts in your direct messages. Sitting in silence, each of you doing your own thing, you noticed after about fifteen minutes that Matt had gone on mute. His camera was still on, showing only his face, so you didn’t think much of it, until another five or so minutes, when you saw his head tip back. When he straightened it back up, you could see the flush on his cheeks had grown stronger, and you could see his phone's reflection in his eyes. It looked quite similar to the picture you had sent him earlier, and you smiled to yourself as you realized what he was up to. He must have forgotten his camera was on. You unmute yourself, not saying anything, simply watching your boyfriend as his eyes fluttered shut for a split second.

“You like those photos more than I expected you to.”

His eyes snapped open, shock racing through his features as he realized that he had still been in frame. His blushed darkened impossibly, staring at you with his mouth slightly dropped open like a fish out of water, failing to come up with words.

“What? You’re going to get off to my pictures and not even have the decency to show me?” 

He continued to falter for words, and when he shifted positions, a small whimper leaving his mouth, you smiled sweetly at him, your faux innocent look a stark contrast to his current situation. 

“You haven’t even stopped touching yourself. You get caught getting off to someone you’re on the phone with, and you’re too much of a slut to stop doing it when they call you out? God, baby, you’re more desperate than I thought.” 

He didn’t respond with any words, just a low moan leaving his lips as his hand clearly continued to move. The shift of his arm in the edge of the camera frame told you the degradation was doing wonders for him, and you smiled to yourself at just how easy it was to have him melting for you. 

“Move the camera, baby. If you’re gonna get off to me, I want to see it.” 

He let out a small whine, immediately doing as asked, a short gasp leaving his lips when he was rewarded with a “good boy.” Matt had a massive praise kink, something you had discovered the first time you had ever done anything with him. You’d spoken a simple “doing so good for me” and he’d practically cum on the spot, humiliation filling his cheeks. Since then, you’d made sure to reward him with consistent praise, loving the way he reacted to it. 

“Go on, baby, tell me what you’re thinking about.” 

At your words, Matt’s hand was moving quicker than it had been, his head now swirling with not just the photo of you, but the full image of you on his live call, your voice encouraging his actions. You laughed to yourself as he struggled to string together a full sentence, his head very clearly overwhelmed with his current situation. 

“Answer me, or you’ll stop what you’re doing.” 

The gentle, but serious, threat of you telling him to stop, and him having to go the rest of the night with no release, was enough for him to finally spit out some words, for the first time in what felt like ages, but had really only been a couple of minutes.

“Thinkin’ about you…” 

He trailed off, his words slightly slurred from pleasure as he ran his thumb over his slit, tightening his grip as his hand moved back down. 

“Yeah? Wishing it was my hand instead of yours?” 

He didn’t hesitate to answer this time, choking out a response almost immediately.

“Yes, fuck. Yes.” 

Matt was easily overwhelmed, and often had a short trigger, so when his noises were getting higher in pitch, you knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Seeing his eyes trained on you and raking over the sheer dress you had on, you dropped it off of your shoulders with a smile, and his reaction was exactly what you expected. His hand sped up impossibly, more frequent moans leaving his lips. He turned his head into the pillow, letting out muffled whimpers with his eyes closed into it so as to not disturb anyone else in the house. 

His hips started to push up into his hand, his chest rising and falling more sharply as his breathing picked up speed, and his moaning turned into a steady stream of little whimpers.

“Are you close, baby?” 

You knew the answer, you just wanted to make him agree, knowing it would add on to his slight humiliation. As he choked out a “Uh huh”, his head too floaty with pleasure to form anything else, you smiled at his fucked out state. He was so easy to break down, and he always looked so pretty when he was like this. You spoke praises to him, a few harsh words mixed in between, loving the way his moans choked off at your words, until all he was letting out was a long string of begs. It was a constant stream of “please, please, please, I need-” before you cut him off.

“Relax, baby. You can wait a little bit longer.” 

He reacted to your words with a cut off gasp and his flushed face frantically shaking his head, as if to tell you no, he couldn’t. You didn’t respond, simply watching his movements, noting the way he slowed down a little, steering himself away from the edge but still keeping his pleasure heightened, and you loved just how good he was for you. You weren’t there, he could technically ignore you and get himself off if he so pleased, but even though he desperately wanted to, he waited for your permission, always, because you both knew it felt more rewarding for him when he had it. 

His phone was leaned up against something further down the bed, and you could see when his free hand moved to grab it, his hand shaky as he brought the camera closer to his face before turning the viewpoint around. His thighs were shaking, and his hand was speeding up again, and you knew he wasn’t going to last. He’d been incredibly good for you, so when the pleas began to fall from his lips, you made sure to quickly answer them, not wanting to make him wait much longer.

“Go on, baby, but put your phone back where it was. I want to see how pretty you look when you cum.” 

His face was easily your favorite thing to look at. His eyes screwed tightly shut, his jaw dropping in a long, low moan, his free hand fisting his sheets as his entire head tipped back, putting his neck on display. But you couldn’t deny the insane attractiveness of the way his hips lifted off of the bed, the arch in his back, and the way his thighs trembled. His breathing turned into short gasps as he came, incoherent babbles of half formed words escaping as he rode out his high, listening to your encouraging words of how beautiful he looked, but one of the gasps was one of shock and not pleasure when your last sentence reached his ears.

“Don’t stop until I tell you to, baby.” 

Matt adored being overstimulated, the balance of pleasure and pain making him cry but desperately beg for more. You didn’t plan on pushing him through more than one orgasm tonight, but he was definitely going to finish riding out this wave as long as he could, and you were enjoying listening to his moans turn into whines, his whimpers turning more sob-like. You didn’t tell him to stop until he was nearly crying, the pleasure bordering on the pain that came before pushing through to another orgasm, and his chest was heaving as he removed his hand from himself.

“Did perfect for me, honey.”

He gave you a tired smile, chest still rising and falling harshly as he came down from the effects of his pleasure, his mind seemingly in a state of natural high. You showered him with praise as he laid there for a moment, before softly instructing him to clean himself up. Your gentle push was enough to get him moving, wiping himself off and washing his hands before pulling on clean boxers and pajama pants, crawling back into bed.

“I wish you were here.”

You smiled at his words.

“I wish I was too. I’ll be there soon, don’t worry.” 

And you’d be sure to bring the sheer dress you’d worn tonight.

taglist : @blahbel668 @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0

@sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae @strnilo

@dazsha19 @patscorner @hailee22sstuff @tworosesblackthorn @h3arts4harry @getosuckers @knhxa @scoobydoosnack

@tapesmatts @st7rnioioss @st7rnioiossblog @jamiesturniolo @sofie-1 @muwapsturniolo @graysturns @certifiednatelover

@bitchydragonparadise @haunted-headset-alt @skyslondon @matthewsturniolosgirlfriend101 @alivzstuff @satvisfavetoodles @zivall @elliesturniolo1 @sturnsxplr-25 @marvellover1984 @joemamaaa42069 @mattslolita

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!!

[potlattice]

Get My Shit Together

Rafe Cameron x Reader

It was positive.

You sighed and handed it over. It was the fifth test you'd taken, but he wanted to see for himself. Rafe wanted to watch as it changed, just to be sure it was true.

And when it was confirmed you were pregnant, he snapped it in half.

"Fuck."

You nodded solemnly in agreement.

You'd had more time to process the heavy news and allowed him a few minutes to himself as he cradled his head in his hands, the broken pregnancy test laying in pieces at his feet.

The both of you had met at a party a few months ago through mutual friends. You didn't hit it off right away, in fact you argued most the night.

But after he pulled out a bag full of pills, you'd stuck to his side like glue.

And you rarely separated since.

However, Rafe was on the verge of getting kicked out due to a growing drug problem, and you were over the party scene at college by now. In fact, the two of you were anticipating going your separate ways very soon.

You were both just waiting for something to give.

And then you missed a period.

And everything suddenly became undeniable and permanent.

Two words you hated.

"So, uh, you're not gonna like..., keep it, are you?"

You shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know yet."

"W-what do you mean you don't know?" He scoffed, standing to his feet hurriedly. He began pacing the room. "I can't be a dad! I don't know what to do with a baby. Do you?"

You looked away from him. "No...I guess not."

He wiped a hand over his face and huffed. "Right. So that settles it."

"-But that doesn't mean I know what I want to do yet." You reasoned.

"For fuck sake!" Rafe cursed and kicked your dresser.

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

"I'm about to get kicked out. My grades are shit, my attendance is fucked and I don't care to fix that." He told you honestly. "So do what you want, but I won't be here."

You watched silently as he took his jacket off the hook and left without a second glance back.

5 HOURS LATER

You put your phone down as an insistent knocking at the door sounded. It was nearly midnight and you hadn't moved from the bed since Rafe left.

You'd simply tucked yourself under the covers, ignored the broken test on the floor and scrolled through your phone aimlessly. It was hard to want to do anything.

Shuffling to the door, you sighed at the sorry sight that greeted you through the peep hole.

You unlocked the door and stepped back as Rafe wasted no time falling through. He was a little unsteady on his feet and you allowed him to grasp your shoulders for support.

He carried the scent of beer and cigarettes into your dorm and you led him to your bed.

He was mumbling incoherent words and you handed him a bottle of water but he pushed it away.

"You hate me-"

"No I don't." You shook your head with a frown and sat beside him but he sniffed and nodded nonetheless.

"Yeah, yeah, you do. Everyone does." He shrugged his shoulders and sniffed again.

You thought it was because of the coke, but you realised he had tears in his eyes. And they weren't red from weed. He'd been crying.

"I'm not on anything." He admitted as he noticed you scanning his face. "Just a few beers."

You knew it was more than a few, but you were surprised he wasn't on any drugs.

"S'not like you." You admitted lightheartedly, not knowing what else to say.

In the short time you'd known him, either he'd be on drugs, both of you would, or you'd be having sex. Sometimes after taking drugs together.

With that thought, you felt disheartened. You wouldn't make good parents. What was love without stability or affection?

Things you and Rafe lacked.

"I'm gonna get better." He said quietly and you lifted your head at the declaration. "I-I'm gonna get my shit together." He put his hand on his chest earnestly.

"For both of you."

Your chest tightened and you felt yourself drawn to him. You lay your head on his arm, accepting the heat from his body and he immediately moved to lay that arm around you, pulling your closer.

He'd always gladly accepted any intimacy between you, even though you were always more hesitant to give and receive it.

But right now, you basked in the comfort it provided.

You didn't know what you were going to do.

You just knew you were glad you were here with Rafe. For all his faults, he was there for you.

It meant everything to you.

...i have no idea what i'm doing

[crow97street]

─── ⋆⋅it’s not just nostalgia, is it?⋅⋆ ───

part 1

synopsis ✦‧₊˚ chan discovers age regression and he finds comfort in indulging in light agere, also deals with not being ashamed/embarrassed about it^ - ^

warning/tags ✦‧₊˚ light age regression (not in this part), caring skz members, overworking, self-deprecating thoughts, also silly skz doing silly things

notes ✦‧₊˚ haiii!! this is my very first fic:) it will probably suck cos my only experience is a klance fic on wattpad 3 years ago… but anywho! i got sick of the only fics i enjoyed being member ship fics </3 so i made my own!! this fic is solely focused on chan’s agere journey with platonic relationships with the kids :) no i do NOT hope chan struggles with any of this i just find comfort in somebody i love being the same as me! OH AND THIS WILL BE MULTIPLE PARTS!! okay enough yapping i hope you enjoy!

word count ✦‧₊˚ 1,464

song rec for this ;)

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

The familiar sounds of his ringtone woke Chan up with a grunt. He made some unintelligible noises before groggily opening his eyes to check the time. 2:31 it read.

“Shit.”

Chan cursed as he quickly swiped his fingers across the screen accepting the call.

“Channie-hyung?” Chan assumed it was Felix by the unique deep timbre in the voice, realizing he didn’t bother checking the contact.

“Mhm ‘lix?” Chan sleepily replied.

“Hyung? Where are you? You said you’d be home by midnight.” There was a worrying undertone to Felix’s voice that made Chan cringe.

“Sorry lixie, I fell asleep at the studio. I’m packing up now, I’ll be home in fifteen.” Chan answered as he began powering off his monitor and packing his laptop.

“It’s alright hyung, get home safe.” Chan heard Felix sigh near the end of his sentence.

“Course lix, see you soon.” Chan couldn’t keep the tiny smile from growing on his face at his dongsaengs concern. He hung the phone up and finished packing his things. Chan stood there staring off into the distance. Unable to shake the deep emptiness he’s felt lately. It feels wrong. Why is he lonely? He has so many friends and his members are always around. Why does he feel empty? He’s happy, he’s made it. Chan sighs once more trying, and failing, to pull himself together as he swings the door open.

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

Chan heard as incoherent whispers died down at his arrival. He turned the corner to be met with, expectedly, Felix’s face. Unexpectedly, Changbins.

“Hyung! Your home.” Felix kept his voice soft spoken as he approached, Chan assumed to not wake the other kids sleeping.

“Hi lixie.” Chan warmly smiled at Felix before accepting his embrace with a content sigh. There was a cough leading Chan’s attention to the other person in the room.

“Hey Changbin, what are you doin’ up? Normally you're out by like, ten.” Chan laughs to hopefully ease the suffocating tension in the room. It didn’t work.

“Felix told me you keep coming home late.” Changbin clears his throat as he speaks , clearly trying not to come off too aggressive. Too bad Chan knows him better than himself.

“Oh, yeah uh sorry I fell asleep again.” Chan awkwardly replies with nervous eyes. Felix and Changbin share a discontent glance and Felix sighs before he speaks up again.

“H-Hyung we don't want to sound overbearing or anything but, you’ve been staying late kind of a lot lately and we uhm” a pause. “We just want to make sure you're sleeping enough and taking care of yourself.” Felix rambles on with nervous gestures and fidgets that make Chan’s heart squeeze with guilt. Why does he keep doing this to them? Just because he felt a little lonely? Chan was wracked with deep guilt and frustration towards himself.

“Yeah channie-hyung, everyone’s sorta noticed but lixie made us realize it was a bit more.. Concerning than originally.” Changbin sighed out with guilt in his gaze. No, that wasn’t right, Changbin shouldn’t feel guilt. Chan should.

Wait, ‘everyone’? Fuck chan really did it this time. He broke his gaze and shook his head lightly to clear his thoughts.

“I’m really sorry guys, I didn’t mean for this to become a recurring thing, I just got so focused on work and making sure we kept up with our schedule.” Chan confessed avoiding the twin pair of worrying eyes.

“It’s alright hyung, but try not to let it happen again yea? We aren’t mad or anything, we just want to make sure you're okay.” Felix gave him a tiny smile. Changbin nodded in agreement.

“Yeah of course, let’s get you to bed though sorry I kept you both up.” Chan returned the small smile before walking further inside, moving their shoulders along with him. He received two small nods before he led them into their respective rooms.

Walking into his own room he let out another deep sigh. How many is that by now by the way? Before turning to his bathroom to brush his teeth.

Chan let his thoughts run as he auto-piloted his night routine. How could he let it get bad enough the kids realized? Gosh he can’t believe he’d worried them so much, he needs to get over whatever this weird feeling is so he can be there for everyone, he's the leader for god’s sake, shouldn’t he know better?

“Fuck.” Chan muttered as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looks terrible, no wonder they all noticed. Chan shook his head and returned to his bedroom flopping onto his bed and pulling out his phone. He’ll scroll on twitter for a bit before he sleeps.

Chan mindlessly scrolls, a few posts making him chuckle lightly, STAY’s were funny. He paused as he saw a post talking about the nostalgia of childhood cartoons. Chan felt himself smile imagining little Chris watching spongebob and adventure time in his living room. Chan felt a yearning grow in his chest. He wishes he could just be a kid again. Harmlessly watching cartoons and chugging down pineapple juice boxes, gosh he wishes. Chan feels his eyes tug, letting sleep consume him as thoughts of legos and car toys fill his mind.

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

Chan’s eyes flutter open to a loud thud. He swiftly picks up his phone to read the time displayed, 11:21. Shit way later than he wanted. He begrudgingly dragged himself into a sitting position on his bed sighing. Fuck hes not 10 years old and watching cartoons is he. Why is that still on his mind? Whatever, no time to dwell. He took a deep breath before standing and making his way to figure out what the thud was.

Chan walked out of the hallway to, well, quite the sight.

Jeongin and Hyunjin were playfully arguing and pushing each other over some rpg game on the screen. Felix and Jisung were frantically running around the kitchen with - what Chan assumes is - pancake batter smeared and splattered in various areas. Timers and blenders are going off along with the pancake mess too.

Finally, Chan drags his eyes to Changbin and Seungmin lying on the carpet going through bags of old clothes. Wait where is-

“Leeknow?” Chan asks aloud, scanning his eyes across the room once more to be sure he didn’t miss him among the chaotic scenery. All eyes snap to him immediately causing him to tense.

“Bathroom!” He hears a distant voice call out in monotone from down the hall. Ah, there he is. Chan gives the kids an apprehensive nod before backing up and spinning on his heel down the hall.

“Soooo why are you in the bathroom and not joining the- well, i don’t know what it is exactly. I don’t think ‘hangout’ quite captures whatever is happening in there.” Chan drags his eyes around the bathroom as he speaks, finally landing them on the other boy.

Leeknow pauses brushing his teeth to give Chan a long glance before spitting out his toothpaste.

“I escaped.” He stated blandly. Fair enough. Chan cleared his throat to speak again before he was interrupted by a yell from the not-hangout in the living room.

“Channie hyung!! We need help!” Chan couldn’t decipher whose voice it was, it might have been multiple? Nonetheless he sped down the hallway to see what the dilemma was.

“What’s going on?” Chan asked as he reached the kitchen. Although it seems he doesn't quite need a verbal reply. Felix is trying to stop the electric mixer from spinning as it tosses even more pancake batter around the room. Chan’s eyes widen and he rushes over to look for a solution.

“We just wanted some pancakes..” He sees Jisung cry with a pout out of his peripheral vision. Chan sighs - fondly but he won’t admit that - before quickly running to pull the plug out of the outlet, stopping the mixer.

He gets multiple odd blinks before Jisung speaks.

“Why didn’t we think of that?” He asks dumbfounded as he shares a glance with the other boy in the kitchen.

“Thank you channie-hyung you’ve saved our lives!!” Jisung dramatically exhales as he drapes himself along Chan. Chan rolls his eyes and pats Jisung’s head.

“Yahhh, look at the mess you two have made.” Chan sighs as he scans the kitchen. The two boys' expressions grow sheepish as they nervously chuckle.

“Well get to cleaning!” Chan yells out as the two scramble to get rags and towels. Chan chuckles and helps them all begin to clean. The whole situation just reminds Chan of the time he caused a huge mess cleaning pancakes with his mom when he was young. Chan pauses his motion of swiping the towel. Huh, there it is again.

[wooshofficial]

hello what are ur thoughts on the new hbomberguy video

OKOK SO I watched it from the hours of midnight to 4am, so I was kinda incoherent when posting that BUT I still do have thoughts.

Mainly I want to pummel James Somerton into the ground for multiple reasons, most of which H put more succinctly than I ever could.

It’s just so fucking disheartening to see someone like James Somerton be so successful off the hard work of people who have dedicated their lives to the stuff he’s ripping off of when those original authors are barely getting paid. It’s very hard to be an academic and watch this video because I know that if I were to write something academic about the queerness in media and publish it, which I plan to do out of college, there’s a very real possibility of James or someone like him finding the work, yoinking it and not giving me the credit, when I won’t get a fucking cent from the publication or him.

I hate that he’s getting away with it too, basically pulling the “I’m gay so I can’t be bad” card. That’s a fucking step BACK from the equal rights that LGBTQ people have been fighting for. By pulling this excuse, he separates the “gays” from the “straights”, putting each group under one black and white label- the straights are evil people who just want to put us gays down. That is a nasty idea right there. Follow that train far enough and you find yourself spouting homophobic rhetoric. Equal rights and seeing the LGBTQ community as equal to others means seeing them as human at ALL angles, the good and the bad. Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t fuck up. Hell, I’m gay, and I’ve fucked up more times than I can count! It just makes me human, and it doesn’t make me less gay. James Somerton is touting himself as The Gay Person Who Knows Everything, which is blatantly untrue, discredits every queer person he’s ripped off of, and separates himself from the other LGBTQ people who make content as “better”- there’s that seed of homophobia again.

AND HE KEEPS DOING THIS! He’s biphobic and misogynistic! He routinely attacks “straight white women”—who could very well be bisexual, but because they’re women they MUST be straight according to Somerton logic—and discredits the work of bisexual authors (mainly bisexual women) who talk about the struggles of the LGBTQ community because “they like the opposite sex so they wouldn’t get it”. He dips himself into transphobia in order to give his biphobia and misogyny some weight, misgendering ND Stevenson (who has been on record about his struggle with coming out and gender identity) and Rebecca Sugar (who has done the same) on multiple occasions. And it’s really fucking disgusting. It really fucking is. When he copies off of work that mentions the words “trans” or “transgender”, he covers those words with generalizations, which takes the transgender community out of the queer experience. So on TOP of being misogynistic and biphobic, he’s ramming headfirst into transphobia too. Which holy fucking shit.

I just. H said not to send hate to James or his team or anyone else talked about in the video on his behalf. I agree and I don’t want to do that. But I sure hope this video is enough to make James Somerton stop being the utter fucking academic supervillain he is. He thinks he can get away with it because YouTube doesn’t count as academia, but there is so much goddamn evidence against him at this point he can’t possibly get off Scot free anymore. I hope YouTube staff sees that video and takes his channel down. I hope Nick, his co-writer that he threw under the bus, gets compensated and a better job. I hope every author and filmmaker Somerton ripped off makes enough money from the video to pay for rent. This can’t keep happening. It just can’t.

[to-the-stars8]

Learning to Love Slowly

Jason Todd x Reader All Chapters AO3 Warning; MDNI 18+

38- Thick Thigh King and Leather Jackets

Nearly teetering on the edge of absolute euphoria, Jason kept you grounded with the kisses he placed on your lips and by squeezing your hips to keep your attention. Your arms were slung around his shoulders as you moved up and down along his thigh. 

Jason had been just stopping by for a quick visit since he hadn’t talked to you all day. It wasn’t much, according to him, but it was the least he could do. You appreciated it all the same, even if was nearly midnight.

You liked the way Jason looked in his vigilante gear, from the way the brown leather jacket he wore fit nearly perfectly over his broad shoulders to the straps on his thighs making them look absolutely delectable. Then, there was the way he sat back on your couch as if he absolutely knew he looked good to you. 

What gave it all away that it was part of the Red Hood persona was when he stuttered when you straddle his thigh. 

It was supposed to be only a tease, but he looked at you with those damn pretty green eyes that just said fuck me. His hands anchored you down on his thigh, and you couldn’t help but reply with a little, venturous thrust. Your legs were already shaking from pleasure.

“Jason,” You said, breathlessly. “Can I…”

“Please—please,” He groaned, giving the soft flesh a squeeze. “Fucking do it.”

Sighing, you rolled your hips again, so glad you only wore the big t-shirt to bed so there wasn’t much between your pussy and his thigh. Smiling to yourself, you decided at the last minute to give Jason a little show for all his hard work. You stripped the shirt you were wearing, now only in some pink panties, you wore to bed. Jason’s reaction was hard to detect at first, but his hands squeezed you tighter. With how hard he was holding on to you knew he’d leave bruises. 

You pressed your chest to him as you continued to thrust against him, lips parting to let out a sweet moan. Using one hand behind you for support and the other to grip Jason’s curls, you leaned back a bit so he could look down as you moved. Jason was shamelessly staring down at your pussy gliding up and down his thigh. When you decided that he had stared just the right amount, you brought your hand around to his cheek to make him look at you, so you could see the pleasure on his face. 

This is just what you wanted. The way Jason’s cheeks were flushed and he looked absolutely at your mercy. Just the way you liked. His hands now pulled and pushed you against him, and you could practically feel yourself dripping off his thigh. This was way better than the nights you spent with a pillow shoved between your legs as you played out the fantasy of riding Jason’s thighs. 

“You look so pretty, Jay,” You said breathlessly. “You’re making me feel so good.”

Jason leaned his head right under your chin mumbling something incoherently as you moved your hand from his knee to stroke the bulge in his pants. He flexed his thigh at the same time you thrust at just the right angle that nearly sent you tumbling into an orgasm. 

“Fuck,” You said desperately, now moving your hips faster. Jason pulled you closer to him, now letting both of your arms draped around his shoulders as you desperately chased after your orgasm. 

Shit, all your nerves were on fire. 

Jason smiled against your neck as you loudly said his name, hands gripping the leather jacket he had on even tighter. You were so close, but you just needed something to push you off that edge. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Jason groaned. “Please, sweetheart, come for me.”

You whined and turned your head. Jason met you with a sloppy kiss that left your mind blank. Your nails dug into his jacket as your orgasm finally washed over you. It hit you suddenly, like a tidal wave, leaving your body to shudder against Jason’s. He held you tight like you were gonna disappeared if he let go, and let you ride out your orgasm until you went limp in his arms. 

“You okay,” He asked, reaching up to stroke your hair. 

You nodded, kissing him one more time before moving off his lap to catch your breath There was a wet spot on the grey of his pants that both of you seemed to notice at the time. He reached toward you, moving loose strands of hair out of your face. 

“I loved that,” He said, moving his hand over the wet spot. “I think we should move to…”

Before he could finish there was a ring on his phone with Bruce’s picture popping up. He groaned, hung up then attempted to continue what he was saying. The words couldn’t even leave his mouth before the phone was ringing again. The two of you exchanged a look. 

Smiling, you nodded down at the phone. “Your father wants to speak to you, Jason.”

He groaned, already picking up the phone. “Don’t say it like that—Hello?”

You giggled, reaching over to caress the obvious tent in his pants. His breath hitched and he stumbled over a few words, which only encouraged you. You grabbed at his clothed cock, running your hand over it, only stopping when his hand caught your wrist. His eyes looked like they were begging you to stop just for a moment, that he only needed to get through this conversation so he could focus on you entirely. You pulled away, letting him finish the talk with Bruce. 

There was a long sigh, and you were suddenly reminded that Jason was still Red Hood. Once the call ended he looked at you apologetically. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Bruce…he needs me. I would stay—You know I would—”

“I know, honeybee,” You pushed his cheek to your lips. “Hurry and go so you can get back faster.”

“See me out?” He asked with a grin, eyes glancing down at your bare chest.

He walked backwards toward the window with your hands in his, saying the sweetest things to you. “I think after seeing you come like that, I don’t want to be away for long.”

“Don’t take too long, then, and I’ll ride your thigh again when you come back,” You said, then added. “Let me rephrase when you come back in one piece.”

 Jason climbed out of the open window, taking a moment to make sure no wandering eyes were around to see you, then pecked you one last time on the lips. 

“That’s asking for a bit much, but I think I can do it.”

You winked at him as he started to climb away. “Too much for my Red Hood? For my thick thigh king? Nonsense.”

Jason was grinning under his mask. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

[ale-x002]

a small midnight reminder

I felt you last night

through the sheets and comforter

And the quilt on top for good measure

You were curled up into yourself

arms tucked behind your knees

to pull your legs ever closer

I was lying on my back

with my head turned to the left

in an effort to keep my earbud in

You sounded like you were dreaming

mumbling something incoherent

But I heard one thing clearly:

"You're delusional," you said

and what could I say to that?

Nothing, that's what

And then you went quiet for a while

and you drew your legs even closer

as you started biting through your lip

When you left you kissed me

and I tasted metal for a moment

until you sank back into the mattress

And tears started pooling on my pillow

as I wondered if you'd ever come back

to see me, and if you'd really be there

But I knew you wouldn't

at least not that night

The batteries had died.

[sublieu]

Soft Upper/lower Moons headcanons

AN: Any art/gif found in my post that does not have my name does not belong to me! If you wish for it to be removed I will remove it

Muzan Kibutsuji

-This man has lived for a thousand years and never in his eternal life would he believe he was in love. Until you came around to mess up his feelings.

-As soon as he's home the first thing he wants is your hugs. He has to work 24/7 and having some form of affection always made him feel somewhat human

-He likes being the small spoon for once. He loves to lay on your chest when he's home as he doesn't know when he'll be back.

-He's introduced you to both lower and upper moons as well, although you don't get to join his meetings as he doesn't want to 'taint' you from his punishments.

-You best believe he's going to spoil you, he doesn't care if you said no he will spoil you (and you better like it)

-He will eventually turn you into a demon as he doesn't want you to die like his many previous wives

Kokushibo

-He will turn into a puddle of incoherent words if you praise him. He's never been praised before so this will take him by surprise.

-He loves to play with your hands, you're so tiny in comparison to him and that makes you all the more cuter in his eyes.

-He does not trust leaving you alone with other demons if you are a human (aside from muzan), espcially with douma.

-He will carry stuff that belongs to you, it could be a ribbon or your earrings, he will keep that shit.

-Although he doesn't like to bring you in public spaces, (Mainly from the fact that you are a human and demons) he will carry you out to festivals for you to enjoy yourself.

-Eventually he will ask you if you wanted to become a demon that way you both could live happily and if you say yes, his spoiling will amplify to the max.

Douma

-Douma was a lost cause when he first met you, you looked so innocent in comparison to the cruel world and he knew he had to keep you as his claimed trophy

-He purposefully leaves his shirts out in the open for you to wear them cause you looked so cute whenever you wore his shirts. They were much bigger than you.

-He knows fully well that if he carried you into a meeting they will kill you so he kept you at his place for now.

-If he notices any small behavioural changes in his servants after your appearance he will kill them. He doesn't like when they say such rude and disgusting remarks about you and he doesn't want you to be insecure about your selfworth.

Akaza

-Akaza was a philogynist, everyone knew that, he was well behaved whenever he was around women and was always a lady pleaser.

-So when you two started dating that amplified up to 50 percent. He would always check in on you, making sure you were well fed, listening to your rants and keeping you busy if you were bored with your normal stuff

-He also likes to craft little stuff for you, it could be a little wooden toy he recently made or even carry you gifts like flowers, or even a stuffed animal he obviously didn't stole.

-He loves it when you give him surprise hugs, it always made him feel somewhat content.

Kaigaku

Srry if I made him too ooc I've never read the manga

-Even though he does have a cruel nature he has a soft spot for you the most, You were his s/o and he loved you dearly

-He likes to carry you out into the forest for star-gazing or mess with people that went into the woods past midnight.

-Don't be surprised if your small stuff like jewellery or hairpins suddenly turn up missing, He likes to keep stuff that remind you of him

-He is rough around the edges in romance but you can't blame him, he's never felt any form of love from his human life.

©𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲𝐛𝐮𝐯_ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏; 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[thebadgerclan]

Unknown

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x reader

Requested by Purple Heart Anon

Summary: Your daughter is sick, and the cause is unknown...

As soon as the missive had arrived, Aleksander was running.  Running to his horse, running home to you, to your daughter, Stella.  Stella is ill, it had read.  They don’t know what’s wrong.  Please come home.  No signature was needed, your husband recognized your hand, shaky as the words were.  He was in Ryevost, easily two day’s travel from the Little Palace, but he rode hard, not stopping once.  Thunder was exhausted, he could tell, but still, he rode on.

It was well past midnight when he arrived, yet a groom was waiting at the gates.  “Moi soverennyi,” she greeted.  “My wife,” Aleksander said.  “Where is my wife?”  “Your chambers, I believe.”  He didn’t hesitate taking off in a sprint into the Palace.  Guards and Grisha alike sprung out of his way as he passed, not bothering to ask what was the matter; they already knew.  As soon as Aleksander rounded the corner, he heard you, and his heart shattered.

“Where is my husband?” you cried, anguish in your voice.  “I want my husband!”  “We sent the missive, moya sovernnyi, that is all we can do now.”  “I want my husband, I want my little girl to be alright!  How do you not know what is wrong with her?”  You were shouting now, presumably at a Healer.  “You’re a Healer, for Saints’ sake, isn’t this what you do?”  Aleksander continued his sprint, only stopping when he was in the doorway.  You were hysterical: your hair frizzy, your eyes bloodshot and red, your shoulders heaving with exertion.

“Aleksander!” you cried, running to him.  “Y/N,” he said, staggering as you threw yourself into his arms.  “I came as soon as I heard, I–”  Your wail of torment stopped him, and your husband tightened his hold on you.  “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, my love.  I’m here now, I’m right here.”  Aleksander turned his face to the Healer, whose hands were folded behind his back.  “Report,” he said, voice clipped, so unlike how he’d spoken to you.

“Moi soverennyi, approximately 15 hours ago, Stella complained of a stomach ache.  20 minutes later, she began vomiting, unable to keep anything down.  Shortly thereafter, she became weak, fatigued, incoherent, and dizzy.  Initial examinations yielded no results, so we elected to observe her.  However, Stella fell unconscious at 2 bells this afternoon, and has not awakened.  We have tried, but we cannot find what is causing this illness.”

Aleksander felt like he could be ill himself.  Grisha don’t get sick, he thought.  So what the hell was happening to his daughter?  “Can I see her?”  The Healer nodded, and Aleksander, keeping his arms around you, entered his daughter’s bedchamber.  The room was lit by a few candles, and Stella lay in her bed, covers tucked to her chin.  She was ghostly pale, still as a stone, and your husband released you to kneel at her side.  “Oh, my darling,” he whispered, brushing a strand of her hair from her face.  “Please be alright, my love.”  His heart was already in pieces from your anguish, but seeing his little girl so ill made it break all over again.

He stood, turning to face you.  Your cries had gone silent, but the second Stella’s door was closed behind you, you snapped.  “Why is my baby sick?” you shrieked.  “Fix her!  Find out what’s wrong and make her better!”  You began hyperventilating, and Aleksander took you in his arms, holding you tight around the chest.  “Breathe, my love, you must breathe,” he soothed, but you were far too aggravated to listen.

“Let go of me!  I want my baby!  Sasha, they’re not helping our baby!”  “Y/N, I know, but you must breathe, you have to calm down.”  You thrashed in his arms, screaming incoherently.  “Do you have a calming draught?” your husband asked the Healer, who nodded.  “No, no, no!  Aleksander, do not, don’t you dare!  I need to be here, I need to–Stella!”  Reason had left you, making way for hysterics, and Aleksander knew he needed to intervene.  For your own good, your own health, needed to be calmed down.

The Healer uncorked a vial, which he handed to Aleksander.  It was a struggle, but he managed to tip the liquid down your throat.  It took effect instantly, your struggling reducing to soft sobs and whimpers.  “Aleksander,” you cried.  “Aleksander, Sasha, please.”  What you were asking for, you didn’t know, but your husband nodded.  “I know, my love.  You’ve been so brave, but I’m here now.  You need to rest.”  “No,” you replied, your words slurring as the draught took full effect.  “Don’t wanna.  I need to be here.  With Stella.”  “You have been.  Let me take over, so when our little girl wakes up, she’ll have her Mama at her side.”

Aleksander swept you into a bridal carry, lying you on your bed.  “I am going to speak with the Healer, but I promise, I will be here when you wake up.”  You nodded, a tear sliding down your cheek.  “Promise?”  “I promise.”  He stayed at your side until you were asleep before returning to the sitting room, where the Healer still stood.  “I need you to be honest with me,” your husband said.  “Will Stella live?”  The Healer pursed his lips.  “I truly cannot say.  This is unlike anything I’ve seen.  Medically, she is fine, but something else is amiss.”

Aleksander opened the door to Stella’s room, once more kneeling at her side.  He took your daughter’s hand in his, kissing it softly.  He knelt there for a few minutes before something struck him.  Whenever Aleksander touched Stella, he felt her power brushing against his, called by his amplification.  But now, there was nothing.  Aleksander staggered to his feet, stumbling to the door.  “Send for my mother,” he said, and the Healer nodded, running from the room.

Baghra was nowhere near pleased to be pulled from her bed at 4 bells in the morning, but when she found it concerned her granddaughter, her disdain faded. “I can’t feel her power,” Aleksander informed her.  “When I touch her, normally I can feel it.  But there’s nothing there.”  His mother nodded, crouching at the little girl’s bedside.  She took her hand in hers, closing her eyes in concentration.

“Oh, it’s there, alright,” she informed.  “Weak, very, very weak, but there.”  “Is that what’s causing this?” the Healer asked.  “It’s a block.  When was the last time she Summoned?”  Aleksander thought, trying to recall the last time Stella had called the wind to her command.  “Saints, I don’t know.”  Bagrha nodded, tsking as she did.  “That’s it, then.  A block this severe is rare, but she’ll be just fine, provided we take care of this now.”  “What do we do?” Aleksander asked, kneeling at his mother’s side.  

“Normally, I’d work with her to break the block herself, but seeing as she’s unconscious, we’ll have to do it for her.  And to do that.. Well let’s just say it won’t be pleasant.”  Aleksander frowned.  “What do you mean by that, Mother?”  “We have to pull the power out of her, and it won’t want to come willingly.  Stella might be in a fair amount of pain.”  “Is there another way?” your husband asked, wanting to spare your daughter any discomfort.  “Do you wish to lose your child, boy?  No, this is the only way, and I have to be the one to do it.”

“Why?”  Baghra huffed.  “You couldn’t feel her power, and I felt a scrap of it.  That, and I’ve done this before.”  “Did the children live?”  “Of course they lived!  Cried to their mothers for a few days, but they lived.”  Aleksander breathed deeply, thankful he’d sedated you, thankful you wouldn’t have to witness whatever was about to happen.  “Very well,” he said, and his mother nodded, taking Stella’s hands in hers.  “I suggest you stand back.”  “Not a chance.”

The woman felt for her granddaughter’s power, and when she found it, she pulled on it, hard.  The block was deep, and sweat soon broke out on her brow.  For several, unbearably long minutes, nothing happened, then, a breeze began to flutter around the room, despite the windows being firmly shut.  “Mother, is it-”  “Hush,” Baghra snapped.  The breeze grew into a wind, the wind into a gale, and the gale into a hurricane.  Wind whipped around the room, sending furniture flying, Stella’s toys blown into a corner.  The very walls shook, the window panes rattling.

Just when Aleksander thought the Little Palace might collapse, the storm ceased, and his mother slumped back.  Everything was still for a moment, and then Stella stirred.  “Papa?” she croaked, and Aleksander released a sob.  “Oh, my little love!”  He stood and ran to her, having been blown across the room during the storm.  “You’re awake!”  He clutched Stella to him, holding her tightly to his chest.  “I’m tired, Papa.”  “I know, sweet one, I know.”

“What in the name of the Saint’s is– STELLA!”  You were standing in the doorway, wearing an expression of utter elation.  “Mama!”  You flew to your daughter, snatching her from your husband’s arms, holding her greedily to you.  “Oh, thank the Saints!  My love, you’re alright!”  Baghra was easing herself to her feet, a small, almost invisible smile on her face.  “Lucky she’s not an Inferni,” she said before leaving.  “Mama, what’s happening?  Why is everyone so upset?”

You let out a sob, but this was a happy sob, one of relief.  “We’re not upset, malyshka.  We’re happy.  Happy you’re alright.”  Stella hadn’t a clue what you were talking about, but her mother was happy, so that was alright.  “Mama, I’m tired.  Can I go to sleep?”  “Of course you can, little one.  But…is it alright if Mama sleeps in your room tonight?”  Stella cocked her head, but nodded.  “Yeah,” she said softly, and Aleksander kissed your temple.  “I guess we're having a sleepover.”

Stella soon drifted off to sleep, holding her stuffed firebird to her chest, but you remained awake, lying on a blanket on the floor, your husband’s arms around you.  “What was it?” you asked.  “What had her so sick?”  “A block,” he replied.  “It was a power block.  Mother was able to break it, thank the Saints.  If she hadn’t…”  Aleksander didn’t need to finish that sentence, and you didn’t want to hear it. 

 “Our little girl is fine, Y/N,” he said, smoothing your hair and kissing you sweetly.  “Stella is just fine.”  You nodded, looking over your husband’s shoulder to look at her: sleeping soundly, her shoulders rising and falling with her breaths.  “She’s fine,” you repeated, mostly to convince yourself.  The day had struck such fear into your heart that when you managed to fall asleep, you didn’t dream.  When you woke, it was to Stella, poking your cheek, sweetly asking if she could have waffles.

[kodzukyan]

better with you (until it kills me)

notes: it's always missing baji hours here </3 fluff, angst; alternative ending: always, always you

summary: four times you think you are in love with baji keisuke, and the one time you tell him.

wc: 3.7k

You're reasonably sure the only reason he chooses you to pair up with for the Japanese literature project is that you sit next to him, but it surprises you all the same. You don't think you have much of a presence in class, but you don't think you can say the same about your new partner, Baji Keisuke.

His slicked-back ponytail and thick frames make his presence seem like a poindexter, but there's something about his bruised knuckles and his fierce aura that makes him feel ferocious. You've noticed him hang out with the school delinquent on multiple occasions. You also think you've seen him laugh wildly as he beats up some of the local thugs who crowded around the said delinquent he's friends with.

He isn't who you expect him to be at first glance, and that intrigues you more than you like to admit. You're too nervous to openly ask, so you settle for stealing glances at him from the corner of your eyes.

So, when he really decides on you and submits the partner form, you don't know what to think.

In the time that you two are partners, you've discovered a couple of things about him. First, his handwriting and kanji absolutely suck. Despite that, he writes a letter addressed to someone named Kazutora every week without fail. As if that isn't endearing enough, it gets even more so when he pouts at the complex characters that he often gets wrong and the inevitable smile that breaks out whenever you show him how to write them correctly.

("Oh, thanks! I would probably fail my kanji tests without you and Chifuyu. Kazutora probably can't even understand what I'm saying," he laughs rambunctiously.)

Second, he's genuinely an unexpectedly good partner in terms of being punctual about meeting up. However, despite being on time, there is little progress on the project. Your work times often end up in discussions about random life topics rather than the project itself.

(“Do you like cats?” he asks out of the blue one day, head on the table and books already forgotten.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” you humor him because you’re also tired of researching Japanese literature.

“Wanna see my cats? They’re all strays,” he sits up suddenly, eyes lit and smile bright.

You nod, and he proceeds to take out his phone to show you pictures of his cats. You note his lock-screen is a picture of all his cats, and his camera roll is just full of his friends and mom, motorcycles, and the said cats. With shining eyes full of excitement, he tells you their names and their personalities in detail.

"Do you think cats recognize their names but choose to ignore us whenever we call them?" he resumes the conversation after he finishes showing you his gallery. He leans back as he balances his pencil on top of his pursed lips.

"Maybe. Depends on the cat? Maybe they just hate you?" you mimic his pose. You suppose thirty minutes of work is enough progress for the day.

"Ouch," he grimaces as if it shatters him directly in the heart.)

Third, sometimes he comes with his hair down and without his glances, with stains on his clothes that he claims are ketchup, despite it not smelling like that at all.

("Uh, hey, sorry I'm late today," he offers sheepishly as he runs a hand through his unbound hair.

"Oh, it's okay," you finally say after you take in his shaggy appearance. You try not to think about how handsome he is despite the bruises forming on his face. "Are you… okay?"

"All good! The ketchup bottle just randomly exploded," he laughs nervously and awkwardly. "Anyways!! The project!!"

You stare at him dubiously but nod anyway. "Okay, if you say so…")

Fourth, he has an extremely charming smile, especially when his fangs are in full display. To some, it may look fierce and menacing; to you, it looks cute, especially when his eyes are always brimming with life and his laugh is full of vitality.

More often than not you catch yourself staring at him because he's just so intriguing.

You try to ignore your racing heart when your stolen glances become shared ones, and he flashes you a grin softer than the smiles you've seen.

-----

“Uh, hi.” You say shyly as you enter through Baji’s window. It’s not frequently you seek out Baji at his own home, especially through the window he keeps open almost exclusively for stray cats to seek shelter.

“What the fuck?” Baji drops the stray cat he's cuddling as you give a slight wave, causing the cat to meow loudly at the sudden change in demeanor.

“Sorry to drop by unannounced. I, uh, just wanted some company.”

You feel vanishingly small as you awkwardly laugh and piece together some words that make sense. Home is supposed to be full of warmth, but your home is more of a house with people than a home with love. It’s a truth you’ve long accepted, but some days, it feels a little extra cold.

Therefore, you run, and somehow you end up here, in the comforts of Baji’s room.

Maybe you are currently a stray cat, feeling a little more lost than found. Maybe you find that he’s the sort of comfort that warms you a little when your heart feels heavy. Maybe you are just a little bit in like with him, and he is the first person you want to see whenever you’re feeling down.

The room is silent aside from the soft paps of cats moving around and the periodic meow. Then, he pats the spot next to him, and you make your way there. As soon as you sit down, he hands you a cat.

“Here, hold her. She’s nice,” he comments as he places the calico cat he dropped earlier in your lap, petting her as she adjusts to her new position on you.

She narrows her eyes and softly purrs in your lap as Baji pets her, and this makes you feel more in the moment than in your head like you’ve been. Your initial baffle turns into a smile as she purrs louder when you pet her, and just like that, you feel a little more found than lost.

You lean on his shoulder as you continue petting the calico cat in your lap. You keep your eyes on her as she climbs onto his lap and nuzzles him in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks and your drumming heart from your proximity.

“Thanks for giving me a home when I don’t want to be in my own,” you tell him softly, airly, almost as if you’re letting him in on a secret.

He stops playing with the cats for a moment and pauses. Feeling his intense stare, you peek through your lashes up at him. His broad grin and sharp canines are in full display, and his smile looks a little more boyish than wild. He tousles your hair as he laughs aloud boisterously before he props his head on top of yours.

“You’ll always have a home here.”

-----

It all started when a group of thugs looked at you inappropriately and made some comments that made you uncomfortable. You grip the ends of his sleeve just a little harder and press yourself behind him, trying to make yourself impossibly small. Baji, seeing your small form and downcast eyes, removes your hand from his sleeve and places it in his hand. Knowing Baji and him knowing you and your every mood, he does not stand for it. He simply flashes you a reassuring grin before he squeezes your hand and runs straight at them.

He throws the first punch, and you could just stand there in shock as he pummels through them and beats them up. He has cuts and bruises everywhere, and you’re certain he’s taken on a few nasty hits on his ribs. Though you’re equally confident that these thugs are absolutely 100% in worse shape than he is.

“Oh my god,” you sob frantically as Baji wobbles back to you, ferocious smile on his face softens as he sees you. He pats your head when he notes your teary eyes. You’re not even sure when you start crying, but the tears just don’t seem to stop. “Are you okay? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you -”

He clutches your tear-stained face in his hands, “Look at me.”

Your eyes meet his, but you can barely see him over your tears as you continue your incoherent rambling.

“Hey,” he tries once more, voice more frantic as he struggles to find words. He finally just squishes your cheeks and yells, “Do you think I care about anything else but you right now?”

Your eyes widen, and the tears forming fall freely onto his hands. Oh, oh, oh, you think to yourself as your beating heart rapidly thumps at an exponential speed, maybe he’s also falling. When you meet his steady gray eyes, the shocking realization that maybe you’re not the only one dumb and possibly in love stops your tears.

He sighs in relief when your tears gradually stop, and as if all the tiredness accumulated in his body hit him all at once, he falls down onto the ground.

You try to catch him as best as you can, and with the combined effort of mostly himself and partially you, he breaks his fall. He lays sprawled out on the ground. After you check for wounds and find none too serious, you sit with your knees tucked under you by where he lays and moves his head onto your lap.

All around you are the battered bodies of the thugs you’ve encountered, but all you can see at the moment is him and his gray eyes that disappear into crescent moons as he flashes you a grin. He’s too tired to move, but he raises a fist up into the air in victory anyway.

“I got you.”

-----

"Wanna go on a ride?" he texts you.

It’s almost midnight when he texts you, and it’s probably way past when you should stay up. But your heart flutters at the thought of adventure, at the thought of him, so you quickly respond, “Okay, but be quiet! Don't wake my parents up again, stinky!!!”

You can already imagine his sheepish smile when he sends you a "that was once!!! my bad" back.

After sending him a quick ":p", you silently put on some clothes more fitting to go out than your pajamas. The sound of his motorcycle announces his greater-than-life presence long before his text does. Grabbing two scrunchies, you sneak out your window.

He only greets you with a goofy smile and a wave, hair free-flowing in the wind. Under the moonlight, his gray eyes twinkle with vigor and youth. It knocks the air out of your lungs as you glance at him because he's beautiful, ethereal, and alive. He smiles smugly when he catches your stare, but he holds his hand out for you to take.

"Hi," you whisper under the twinkling stars as you put your hand in his.

"Hey," he whispers back as he curls his fingers around your hand before adjusting to interlace your fingers together.

The quietness and intimacy of this moment drown out the world - the sound of cars driving by, of cicadas flying, of the world standing still. The only thing keeping you from floating is his hand and the sound of your heartbeat.

"I got you a hair tie." You offer softly with an equally soft smile, eyes pointing to the scrunchies on your wrist.

"I got you a hoodie," he responds as he nods to his motorcycle. "Because I knew your dumb ass would, once again, forget to dress for the winds."

"I'm dressed decently enough. You, though… please tie your hair… It hurts like hell when it whips in my face," you laugh lightly.

He rolls his eyes. "That's also what you said last time before you ended up stealing my hoodie, and I ended up being cold!" he complains, but there's a certain fondness in his voice.

You only stick your tongue out childishly at him. You would rather bite your tongue than admit that you are always slightly underdressed for the occasion so he would keep giving you his hoodies.

He tugs your interlaced hand and pulls you closer, and as you stand so close to him, you think close isn't quite close enough. The two of you linger in that position for longer than what should be appropriate for friends, but you think you have been tiptoeing around that line for a while now. Your heart races, and you're sure your erratic heart is beating fast enough to generate heat to keep you warm against the cold winds.

He pulls away first, moving to grab his hoodie before he roughly puts it on you. He laughs when you complain about your ruffled hair, but as his hoodie and scent engulf you, you could only shyly smile. He takes a scrunchie despite complaining about how poofy it is. As he settles in his bike and you settle in behind him, arms tight around his waist, you think this is probably what holding the universe in your arms feels like.

He rives his bike loudly despite your warning, but you find that you could care less right now as he takes off. You are young and dumb, but the wind is running through your hair as the two of you are chasing the moon, and it makes you feel so alive. Neon lights and starlit skies blur together as he speeds through familiar roads, and the brisk winds drown out your loud laughter. It feels like you're feeling everything at once, but your head is so clear.

You think you can understand why he loves riding so much because the only thing that you can hear is your loud heartbeat, and the only thing that matters is you're living.

He finally stops at a local 24-hour diner. The moonlight shines through the window by your table. You are still feeling the wild wind in your hair, cold air on your face, and the warmth of Baji’s back on your arms. It's way past midnight now, and the yellow lights of the diner feel a little more homey than dingy. He’s munching on some fries, occasionally waving one in your face whenever he’s trying to make a point about something. As you watch the various expressions on his face, a smile makes its way to your face.

“Hey Keisuke,” you grab a fry and jab it at him in the middle of his sentence. He stops his mid-word as he stares at you, head tilting slightly and mouth still gaping. There is a particular word that you keep thinking of whenever you think of Baji, a feeling that lingers and fills your heart up. You know what it is. You think you know at least, and in moments like these when you’re just watching his goofy self munching on fries while boisterously laughing at something dumb, all you can think of is those four letters.

“You’re my best friend,” you whisper before you eat your fry. Best friend, you think, encompasses a lot of things and feelings as you stare at his childlike grin, heart fluttering and mind blanking because all you see is him. You hope he knows, hope he gets that best friend is a loose term because he is so much more.

When he meets your eyes and his gray eyes crinkle in mirth and laughter rolls off his lips, you think he does.

“I know,” he smugly nods before he drops another fry into his mouth. “I guess you’re pretty cool too.”

You stick your tongue out at him and feel a warmth in your heart that matches the pinks of his cheeks. Maybe it’s adrenaline still in your blood, maybe it’s the moment, but it makes you devious, brave even, as you lean over and chomp down on the fry he's holding.

He stares at you with his mouth wide open, looking absolutely flabbergasted and offended. “Hello? That was my last fry!”

“Sorry,” you giggle, not feeling all that sorry at all. You know he’s not truly that offended because he has that stupid grin on his face, because he’s always soft with you. A part of you does feel a little sorry when you see the small pout that arises on his face. “I’ll treat you to yakisoba later?”

He turns away from you, face still slightly sulky as he huffs silently.

“No? You don’t want yakisoba?” you ask. You still find it amusing that Baji Keisuke, the first division captain of the Toman Gang who would punch someone on the streets for no reason other than just because he feels like it, is pouting because you stole his last fry. If anyone from any rival gangs sees Baji Keisuke now, they probably wouldn’t believe this is the same person.

“Fine,” he huffs softly, “But don’t think one yakisoba is enough.”

“Then,” you begin, your heart pounding loudly in your chest as you work up the courage, “What about this?”

He turns to you in confusion, and before your courage runs out on you, you crash your lips onto his before you pull away.

“Repayment,” you mutter meekly, eyes avoiding his because you’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks from where he’s sitting.

“Hey,” he tugs on your hand under the table. When you finally look at him, he continues, “Just one isn’t enough.”

He kisses you again.

-----

Home is supposed to be the place you come from, but you think it's more like a place you find, pieced together from scattered bits of feelings, emotions, people along the way. Somewhere along the lines, home becomes less of a place and more of a person. Your home becomes the boy with the sharp canines and long hair that gets tangled by the stray cats he keeps, the "I love you" declared loudly with kisses and the longing looks in between, the comfortable warmth of his body next to yours as you chase sunsets and live in your own infinity. Your home is Baji Keisuke and the constant image of him in your mind and the infinite pieces of him in your heart.

Infinity, though, is awfully short, you think, as you see him lay surrounded by bouquets, eyes closed in eternal slumber. He's always looked good in white, but when his tan complexion is nearly as pale as the white roses surrounding him, you think white is an awful color on him. His eyes always shine with possibilities and promises, and while you've always joked that his sleeping face is cute because he always looks so innocent, adorable even, all you want now is to see him awake.

His heroism and love for his friends are always something that you love about him, but in turn, it feels so incredibly cruel to you now. For as short as he has been in your life, he becomes pieces embedded so deeply in it that it makes you whole. You cannot imagine a world where there is no Baij, where he isn’t there to punch a hooligan on the streets or feed stray cats at night or hold you when your world is crashing. You cannot imagine a life where he isn’t here to shine a bright light in your life without his laughter and goofy personality. Suddenly the world blurs around you, and you can't breathe as droplets of water hit your clenched hands on your lap.

You hold his hands. Cold, cold, cold, when they used to be warm enough to light a fire in you. There are so many things you want to tell him, say to him, but the speech you prepare in your head drowns in silence as your voice gives out on you. All the words in your head just come out as broken sobs. You feel the sympathetic and equally broken glance of his mom as she embraces you, but all you can think about is that he won’t open his eyes.

Baji Keisuke has always been bigger than life, you think, because he becomes a part of everything in your life. There are traces of him everywhere - him with his cats on your lock-screen, the random memes he sends you at night, the little notes he leaves you written in his ugly penmanship with love. When you think of these things, you feel like your heart is breaking all over again.

People tell you to be strong, and while you want to retort because how can you when he’s gone?, you find that you cannot say a word without crying. You’re tired of crying too because your eyes are already so, so raw, but it seems like all you can do is cry. When you think you've finally run out of tears and your tears finally stop, a new batch takes over even at the slightest things that remind you of him. You feel so pathetic because you can't do anything without water leaking from your eyes, and you hate yourself for being so weak.

You tune out the somber tone of his friends and the broken tone of his mom because you don't want to accept a reality where he isn't here. But luck is never on your side because he never opens his eyes again, and you never get to tell him how much you love him. All you get are flashbacks and memories of him and emptiness in your heart and soul. You tell yourself you have to be strong and smile and live for the both of you, but you can't. Not when he isn't here, not when he isn't with you anymore. Every time you think about that fact, your heart breaks again.

"Hey, stupid," your broken sobs ring loudly in the deafening silence, "I love you."

The words you’ve wanted to tell him for so long are finally in the open, but there is no answer.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine having to physically pick up Karl to get him to go to bed

Around midnight in the morning

Karl: *still working down in the factory*

You: *kicks open the door* it's midnight, stop working

Karl: five more minutes

You: no, you said that two hours ago. It's time for bed.

Karl: you don't need me to go to bed.

You: I know that, but you will work yourself to death if I let you. You gave me permission to enforce daily bed times, we talked about this, remember?

Karl: but

You: that's it *spins his chair around so he's facing you*

Karl: you wanna fight? *Squares up*

You: nope *moves his hands away, and picks him up and throws him over your shoulder*

Karl: *holding his hat and glasses on* what are you doing!

You: enforcing bed time, stinky.

Karl: (y/n)! ... Hey I'm not stinky?

You: yeah you are, you smell like metal, oil, and sweat. But that's to be expected, seeing as you cranked up the furnace and worked with scrap metal for seven hours, then proceeded to work in your hot office on whatever that thing was and you're covered in black grease. So you get to take a shower before bed.

Karl: *rolls his eyes* you gonna hold me down to make me sleep too?

You: *smacks his hand away from grabbing onto a door frame* of course not, I will however figure out how to lull you to sleep if you need me to.

Karl: *mumbles* I should've never let you convince me to put you in charge of my well being.

You: *starts walking up the stairs* like you'd do it if I wasn't here? You were doing the bare minimum to keep yourself alive before I showed up.

Karl: *grumbles incoherently*

You: it's not that bad, you get home, you hop in the shower, which has running hot water now, then you get to go to bed with someone that cares about you.

Karl: it doesn't sound so bad when you say it, but it still doesn't feel like it.

You: it's because you still would rather be working and because I'm making you go to bed.

Karl: speaking of which how are you carrying me like this? I have loads of metal cybernetics in me, and I'm taller than you to start with.

You: I did a lot of weight lifting and you aren't that heavy. Do you need me to still carry you? Or are you going to willingly go to bed?

Karl: I wanna work, you can't do this everything night you'll get tired by the end of the week.

Two weeks later

You: hey Stinky *picks him up to bring him back to the house for bed*

Karl: damn it

[missinghan]

cold sun ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : soulmate au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 2,6k.

❖ warning : slight swearing

❖ summary : in a world where one will lose something if their soulmate doesn’t reciprocate their words of love once they turn sixteen, jisung is willing to take the risk so you won’t have to bear the burden.

❖ note : i just realized how i always tend to write for jisung when i'm down :')) anywho this piece is a little different than what i usually come up with but i hope y'all enjoy it ♡

It’s the first day of the week.

“Hey, Y/N. I like you!”

And Han Jisung is really annoying.

Those words come out so easily. It's casual in a way that makes you bury your red nose deeper into the soft fabric of your scarf, which makes your footsteps quicken unknowingly as his voice chases after you loudly. Either way, this isn’t the first time Jisung has said so. In fact, it’s become a habit for him to remind you every other day.

There’s no particular reason why. Or at least that’s what you think.

It’s the end of the week. Jisung decides to hang himself upside down on your bed while you’re stressing over a presentation. “Hey, Y/N.” A cold winter breeze comes rushing against the perplexing glass of your window, shaking the frame violently before all motions come to silence.

Until, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he creeps up from behind you and chirps into your ear.

“What?” you let out a groan of displease when tempting warmth embraces you whole, prompting you to drop your attention and looking over your shoulder.

Jisung pouts, “You didn’t answer me.”

“It’s because you’re annoying,” you sigh.

“Answer me when I call your name,” he pulls you in a fraction tighter, careful enough not to hurt you but firm to not let you slip away at the same time, and cradles your neck warmly, “So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“Alright, stupid.”

The all too familiar gummy smile returns instantly. “Hey, Y/N?”

And you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes, Jisung?”

“I like you,” he giggles into the hug, “I like you a lot.”

Han Jisung really is annoying.

He’s annoying because he talks too much. He’s annoying because of how he always asks for your notes after a gaming night with Felix just to nap in class. He’s annoying because he’d drop you in a heartbeat for a single slice of cheesecake from Jeongin’s mom’s bakery. He’s annoying because of how well he can get along with everyone.

Chatty, down-to-earth, easy-going with a lovable smile—attractive, very attractive.

It’s the week after that. “What...happened?”

“He lost his voice,” Jeongin sighs, looking like he genuinely wants to facepalm himself against concrete while walking with an incoherent Jisung to school; expressive hands with his mouth agape and all.

You tilt your head, “...for real?”

“For real.”

After a few seconds of eyeing Jisung struggling with converting what’s in his head, you exhale deeply and quickly rummage through your backpack, “Just stop, you look ridiculous.” And he does just that, zipping his mouth metaphorically and giving you those typical puppy eyes. “Here, use this.”

His eyes light up like stars when you rip off a page from one of your notebooks and offer it to him along with a pen. Truth is, you’re expecting something as predictable as ‘I like you’ or ‘It’s alright it’s just the worst cold I’ve ever caught’. But then, what’s displayed on the piece of paper right now only baffles you.

Park is going to murder you if he sees some uglyass tear in your Ochem notes :)

A forced grin splits your lips open. “Not if I murdered you first and then the entire school and then myself.”

The first genuine smile blossoms on his lips when you give him a mini-sized notepad and pencil the day after—his sixteenth birthday.

And Jisung decides this is it.

It happens when the sun hasn’t even come out yet and the irritating blue light from his phone reads 5:32 AM.

It happens when he sees your reclined figure leaning back against his mattress, his pupils tracing your delicate features. Perplexed emotions fill his eyes to the brim, fulfillment bursting within his chest when you stare right back at him with such purity. So pure that it seems you can do no harm to him and neither can he.

“Hey stupid,” you murmur quietly, shoving a notepad and pencil against his chest, “Happy birthday.”

Jisung gives you a bright smile, opens his mouth, and snaps it close mere moments later. Sixteenth birthday. Early in the morning. Tired grins. The fondness of being so disgustingly in love.

He can’t help but lean in and caves into the taste his soul has longed for as long as he can remember.

Two weeks have passed since Jisung has lost his voice.

Nothing has differed if you’re being completely honest. Han Jisung is still annoying. His lack of ability to speak doesn’t appear to be a problem to him at all. He loves chatting with people even though he’s more of a listener now. But with the small notepad you gave him a few days ago, being socially active is the norm for him even now.

Thanks to his rather short-period experiences of observing people’s expressions and how their features contort in certain ways when they’re feeling certain emotions, Jisung catches onto your mood more quickly during bad days to help you release your inner turmoil by scribbling down something stupid on the notepad. It’s kinda nice like this, you’d think to yourself sometimes.

Other times, you’re more scared that you might have forgotten what his voice sounds like.

“No wonder you got a fucking cold. Stop taking midnight showers already.”

You wave Jisung over when he closes the wooden door to your bedroom, droplets dripping from his hair as he scratches his stomach tiredly. His hair is a mess when he lazily crawls onto your bed, the cushion beside you dips slightly.

His index finger pointing at his post-shower head and a shit-eating grin are all you need to snatch the white towel around his neck.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you mumble while rubbing the cotton fabric into his hair, “But you’re awfully upbeat for someone who’s lost their voice. Can’t you at least pretend to be sad about it?”

A noise of protest escapes his throat like second nature as your eyes carefully read the quick movements of his mouth. “And can you not be so mean to someone who’s lost their voice?”

A faint smirk creeps its way up to your lips. “Still like me now?”

Jisung thinks hard for a few moments before jumping out of bed to snatch his notepad from your studying area. Of course, I like you. I like you a lot. Your heartbeat momentarily spikes at his scrawny handwriting. Just when your gaze is averted away to cool the blush on your cheeks, he tugs at your sleeve again and points at a different mess of scribbles. You’re more gentle when I’m like this. And you’d always find me if I ever got into trouble. What’s there for me to be sad about?

“Annoying little shit,” you swallow your pride and let him settle his head against your chest.

His presence melts into yours during the hardest hours of the twenty-four, heartbeats on heartbeats and warmth on warmth. Your one regret is that you’re unable to register his tears that night, only the incoherent, breathless hiccups almost as to desperately call out your name.

It’s been a month since Jisung’s lost his voice. And the night when he kisses you for the second time, his notepad is long forgotten next to your pillow.

I-can’t-talk. Give-me-a-break.

Jeongin. Cheesecake. Please? Pretty please?

I’ll fucking kick you.

Wait, there’s homework?!

...so you’re telling me LMAO isn’t how French people laugh?

“This is what you’ve been doing during breaks huh…” you mumble under your breath while lazily flipping through the papers. The occasional ‘I like you’-s do pop up every two pages or so, which is more than enough to make you smile like an idiot. But that is until a peculiar paragraph yanks your attention by its neck and tosses it against a brick wall.

Mom, promise me you’re not going to cry.

He made auntie cry?!

I lost my voice for real now but it wasn’t supposed to be like that at first. I just wanted to mess with Y/N and freak her out for a day.

I’m seriously going to punch him.

She was a lot softer toward me after that, you know. I know it’s extremely selfish of me but I just can’t help being so happy. I’m sorry, mom. I really am.

Han Jisung you fucking idiot.

I was going to surprise her on my birthday by saying ‘good morning’ out loud but nothing came out. My voice was gone.

Guilt, anger, remorse take over you. You knew nothing of this. You never once questioned for a logical reason behind the loss of his voice and kept moving onward as if it’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t suspect it as a kind of prank, either. But you still care, all this time! You have been doing everything in your power as a way for both you and Jisung to treasure himself even if he can’t speak anymore.

I went to a check-up last week. Nothing came up. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

However, without fail, the obnoxious part of you will keep wandering back to the concept of soulmates that has been engraved so deeply into the society you’re living in. It makes no sense to you that Jisung lost his voice for no reason right before his sixteenth birthday. This explains it all now.

It’s going to be okay, mom. Because I have Y/N. I know she would come running toward my side over and over again even if she can’t hear me anymore. I really don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.

Jisung knew the penalty for being the first to exchange any words of love yet he still did it. And you were too busy overlooking that stupid pride of yours to say those three words back.

It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to forget what I used to sound like. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

Jisung fixes the strap of his backpack, looking up at his mom after slipping into his sneakers. She ruffles his bed head and hands him a small white box with Jeongin’s bakery’s signature logo on it.

He tilts his head in faint confusion, peering at the box of pastry in his arms.

“Give it to Y/N on the bus, okay? Her parents aren’t home right now. You know how she would always skip breakfast when they’re out of town.”

His eyes light up instantly in realization and Jisung nods, preparing to bid her farewell. Just then, his front door comes flying open. It can’t be a mere acquaintance because there are very few people other than his parents and himself who know of the spare key hidden under the welcome mat.

As Jisung turns around, he’s keenly aware of your teary eyes already trained on him. Which in hindsight, makes no sense. As a result, panic rises within the hollowness of his chest, his lips falling agape but no coherent words come out.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” his mom flinches, slightly caught off guard, “Is everything okay?”

A scowl stretches over your contorted features as you shut the door loudly. “What the hell is this?” you question, shoving the familiar notepad into his chest. “A prank? A prank?! Do you think that this is funny?”

Jisung’s frantic eyes move to read the paper and every single color on his face drains tremendously. He easily recognizes the peculiar paragraph by how much lighter the ink is compared to the rest of the messy lines because his pen was running low and his hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Your voice.

His eyes avert back to look at you. His brows furrow timidly and shaky breaths burst from his lips almost like a desperate cry for help. There’s too much he wants to say, too many things to explain, and too many questions running through his head that he can’t process what to do next. He might just overwhelm both you and himself.

I need to hear it again.

And you might not stay by his side this time.

“Okay, don’t answer me then, I guess,” you chuckle lowly, dipping your head and turning around.

Jisung grabs at your sleeve instinctively and drops the pastry box, his gaze empty and all too knowing. Sorrow glazes over his starry eyes when it starts becoming hard to breathe properly. The outlines of his lips are moving non-stop yet nothing comes following after that.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you rasp out and tug at his hand. Then it hits you. He’s like this because of you. Jisung lost his voice because of you.

His mom cuts into the conversation, “Y/N, you don’t understand!”

“I’m sorry, auntie,” you smile sadly and take off running into the streets.

You, in the midst of your self-loathing and guilt, allow your feet to go wherever they want as your vision spirals into a blur. A single droplet threatens to fall when a forceful hand yanks you back to reality.

It takes Jisung a moment to regain his regular breathing pace. And when he finally gets it, all he can do is call out to you with the same inaudible sounds and the same desperation in his eyes. It seems as though he’s fully aware that the prank was the stupidest, most irrational thing he’s ever done. But there’s more to the ocean within his eyes than just remorse.

“I already told you,” you clench your jaw and slap his hand away, “I don’t fucking know what you’re saying!”

A deep sigh. “Why am I mad? Of course, I’d be mad! It’s because of me that you lost your voice! It’s because I like you, too! Yet I never said it back… You lost your voice because of me! Don't you get it? Why can't you just hate me for the sake of it?!”

You miss his voice. You miss it a lot.

You want to hear it again. You want to hear him call you by your name. You want to stay up late and talk about anything to the ends of the Earth and back with him. You want him to be the obnoxious, chatty Han Jisung you've always known.

You miss how annoyingly loud he is.

“Y-Y...Y/N…!”

Jisung collapses onto his knees, a hand on concrete while the other is on his neck. His chest rises and falls unevenly, muffled noises of discomfort echoing deep down from his throat. Despite that, what you heard just now, is his voice.

“Answer me when I call your name. So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“I promised you, didn’t I,” you spread your arms and smile warmly, “That I’d always answer when you call my name. As long as I can still hear you, I will come running toward you over and over again. Doesn’t matter what it takes, doesn’t matter where you are.”

Jisung lifts his head and tears come rolling down on his cheeks. His throat feels swollen when he stutters with difficulties, trying to convey what’s in his head, “Y-Y/N, don’t- don’t go! Please don’t leave me...!”

“Come here,” you close your eyes with the widest grin on your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Only when Jisung grows closer and throws his arms around you, sobbing into your uniform do you convince yourself that all of this isn’t a hallucination. The hug is a lot stronger than what you’d expect. First of all, you nearly fell over from the impact and your arms are pinned so tightly to your sides that you feel like your ribs are going to snap.

Everything is so overwhelming that all you can say is, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hair and loosens his arms a bit so you can loop your hands to the nape of his neck and hair.

“You’re so annoying, Han Jisung.”

He purses his lips, sniffling, “You tried to make me snap on purpose. Meanie.”

You quirk a playful brow, “Still like me now?”

“Yeah,” Jisung smiles, “A lot.”

Because he knows that he has you. Until every last star in the galaxy explodes as a supernova, Jisung has you.

[sneezefiction]

midnight murmurs

Iwaizumi x Reader - Scenario

a/n: Iwaizumi rattles off some late-night thoughts to you while you’re “sleeping.” little does he know your eyes may not be open, but your ears are still catching quite a few of his one-sided conversations.

warnings: some language

wc: 1.5k

dedicated to: @star-puff, because your Iwaizumi fluff had me riding a high for like 2 whole days & we all need him in our lives

---

Incoherent whispering. Soft, short rambles. Maybe he was sleep-talking?

At least that’s what you thought when you first heard Iwaizumi’s voice over the gentle hum of the ceiling fan and against the muted song of the cicadas buzzing outside of the bedroom window.

But as the nights passed, you began to hone in on the contents of Iwaizumi’s mumbling.

His words were… pointed. Holding an air of quiet confidence and trickling ever so gently into your ear like a lullaby. Sometimes it had to do with his day. Other times it was about how cute you’d looked that morning, still fast asleep while he was getting dressed for work.

But whatever the topic is, you’ve grown used to the conversations that he’s been having with the back of your head.

And here you are again. Lying stiff as a twig by Iwaizumi’s side and listening intently to his voice.

“I wish you’d heard what Shittykawa did today…” He rasps softly.

“...Even though he’s all the way in Argentina, literally surrounded by beaches and resorts, he still hardly takes a day off. That dumbass sprained his ankle and kept practicing for another hour.” Iwaizumi sighed, his thumb barely skimming the surface of your forearm.

If you’d actually been asleep (like he’d thought you were), you’re sure you wouldn’t have felt the brush of his fingertips. It was too delicate. Too careful.

Honestly, you’re just glad he still holds you this tenderly. Especially late at night when you’d least expect his affection. After all, you’ve not had a chance to cuddle with him in a while.

Iwaizumi had been getting home later every single day for the past few weeks and for good reason. He felt obligated to stay with Japan’s national team into the darker hours of the night as the Olympic games approached. And you admire his dedication. You’re so proud of him for chasing after his passions and it would never dawn on you to undermine his career by holding your relationship with him over his head.

But this usually meant that, by the time he cracked the bedroom door open, you two would only have a few moments to share some words and a quick kiss before tucking under the covers. You, of course, missed his voice. And he longed to hear yours.

However, as you closed your tired eyes, Iwaizumi’s would remain wide open, body and mind relentlessly processing through another intense day. You’ve never said a word to him about his shifting and deep sighs, worried that he might feel guilty for keeping you awake with him. Yet still, you feel Iwaizumi’s exhaustion in the way his weary arm drapes around your waist. There’s a tautness, a sort of tension, there.

So you do your best to remain completely still in his hold, hoping that your outward calm would bring him some inward peace. That your steady breath might lull him into a state of rest. That you could be the anchor to his rocking boat, like he’d always been for you when your life got windy and overwhelming. But even with your best, silent efforts, he stayed alert and somewhat unsteady.

That’s when the whispery words would start… and you soon came to the realization that he was talking to you.

You hear the rustle of his hair as he runs a firm hand through it. A small smile adorns your lips as he continues his line of thought, Iwaizumi’s breath wafting across the back of your neck.

“Y/n, he’s such an idiot and he won’t listen to me anymore… maybe I’ll get you to text him tomorrow. You’re so good for him and… maybe a little nicer than I am.” Iwaizumi admits.

There’s a pause and you wonder if that’s it. If that’s the end of his dialogue for the night… but there’s more this time.

“And, God y/n, I missed you today.”

The confession shakes you. Your chest tightens as you try to take it all in.

You’re pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hear that.

Those words were reserved for the most... intimate of moments. For trembling tears or reunions after long distances or maybe hot, heavy kisses after a frustrating day. But, as a general rule, you hardly ever heard those tender remarks out of the blue. After all, Iwaizumi is a man of actions and not so much a lover of words.

So this is new, to say the least. You’re dumbstruck. Your heart is beating far faster than it should be - especially since you’ve been dating him for over a year now.

However, it wasn’t just the words that stunned you. His tone was different too. Where there usually would be, there wasn’t an ounce of embarrassment in Iwaizumi’s voice. It wasn’t rushed; not bashful or heated like some of his past devotions and confessions had seemed.

Tonight’s Iwaizumi is perfectly sincere. No, not just sincere. Fond. 

Fond and maybe a tad wistful. Vocal inflection isn’t exactly Iwa’s forte, at least not when it came to sweet words in passing. So this is a historical moment in your book.

Thus, you let your cheeks burn a little longer and shut your eyes a little tighter in order to hear his next words.

“And I miss your voice.” He adds, tone dropping into what seems like… longing.

Iwaizumi pulls you a little closer into his bare chest, the rise and fall breath now pushing up against your own back. He’s really pushing it now.

It feels wrong listening into a conversation when the words are meant for you, but at the same time they aren’t. Who wouldn’t be conflicted? He had clearly trusted that your closed eyes and barely moving figure meant you were deeply asleep. That you couldn’t possibly hear a word he was saying.

I mean you had to say something, right?

So you inhale quietly, preparing to insert yourself into the one-sided discussion.

“...I wish you’d said something sooner, Iwa.”

You almost startle yourself with your own voice, the once soft atmosphere of the moonlit room, turning frigid.

Iwaizumi’s whole body goes stiff, arms frozen in place. He holds his breath and the gentle tickling of air on your neck pauses with it.

You shift your head to look back at him, his eyes already peering into your own. He was red. Beet red. Enough so that you could see it in the dim light of the room. You could practically feel the heat radiating off of his neck and arms, embarrassment flooding through every inch of his body.

“How… how long have you been listening to me?” Iwaizumi whispers, voice wavering almost as though he doesn’t want to hear your answer.

You blink.

Should you only tell him about tonight?

Or would it be better to let him know that he hasn’t had a single midnight conversation this week that you hadn’t listened in on?

You opt for honesty, knowing that he would probably be able to tell if you were lying anyways.

“Everything from this past… week?” You say shyly, slinking away from him, but one of Iwaizumi’s strong arms holds you in place.

His head falls back to his pillow and the other arm covers his eyes. As many times as he’d slipped up in front of you, he’d really done it this time. You must think he’s so strange. Why was he always doing stuff like this? Of course you would hear him.

I should’ve just kept my damn mouth shut, Iwaizumi thinks, his body still being flamed by an internal furnace from all the other embarrassing things he now remembers rattling off to you in your ‘sleeping’ state.

“But I liked listening to you.” You cut in quickly, sensing his discomfort and attempting to smooth it over with gentle words.

“And we… don’t get to talk much lately. So I- I just didn’t want to say anything because… I like the sound of your voice. You’re actually very soothing, Iwa.” You’re still sleepy, so the words come out choppily... but considering the circumstances, it wasn’t the worst recovery.

If it weren’t for the blushing male in front of you, you would probably feel just as flustered by the whole situation. But somehow, you kept your cool, too focused on calming Iwaizumi down in his flushed state.

“...Y/n?”

“Yes?” You breathe out.

“Just… just come here already.” He takes his hand away from his burning face and turns toward you.

You’re immediately pulled snug against him, your front meeting his chest, legs twining around his toned ones. Iwaizumi has a hand behind your neck tucking you into the crook of his neck as he hides his face from you, chin resting softly atop your head.

“I’ll call Oikawa tomorrow.” You joke, breaking the tension.

“It’s shittykawa.” He corrects. “And please forget about everything I said.” His tone dropping, turning sour.

A humored sigh leaves your lips.

He feels your mouth smiling faintly against his collar bone, which only sends him further into this embarrassed affection for you.

You were really something.

Never making him feel bad for running late hours. Letting him crawl into bed with you way past midnight when you could easily demand more time from him. Listening to his rambles, some more crass than others, consciously without judgement.

He’d found a treasure in you. A golden, shimmering treasure that didn’t need light to be seen. You shone even under the pale, underwhelming moonlight that peered through the window blinds.

So Iwaizumi finds himself pressing a few soft kisses onto your forehead. You plant a couple lingering ones on his neck in return and he squeezes you even closer into him.

And just as the two of you begin to drift off, you decide to top the night off with a cherry of sorts.

“Iwa?”

“Yes, y/n?” His voice at a whisper, once again.

“I’ve missed you too.”

---

Do Not Repost

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @miss-rin, @shou-kunn, @senkuwu-chan, @super-noya, @stcrryskies, @holaaaf, @sugacookiies, @vintgicals, @moonlightaangel, @kit-tea, @theworldupthere, @sugasugawarau, @randomesk-yuku, @ideshine, @macaronnv, @anseoo, @aprettyfruit, @bbakougo, @bloom-uwu, @spikertrash, @iguessimastannow

(comment, dm, or send an ask to be added to my general tag list - blogs in bold could not be tagged)

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Cheater Cheater | Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Requested by anon // Summary: You think Elijah is cheating on you. 

A/N: hope you enjoy! thank you for requesting xx 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

You tried not to let it bother you, but Elijah had been secretive the last week or so. He was taking phone calls to other rooms, where he usually answers them there next to you. Any time you entered a room, and he was on the phone, he’d end the call. When you asked who it was, he’d say no one. He was coming home late after being gone all day and when you asked him where he’d been, he would tell you he was with Klaus or Rebekah. However, what he didn’t know was you’d spoke to them after and asked what they were up to, they would say the complete opposite, not mentioning seeing Elijah at all. As the days went on the more suspicious you got. Was he cheating on you? Who was the mysterious person on the phone and who was he really seeing those late nights?

Elijah wasn’t telling you a thing and you took it upon yourself to follow him one day. You followed him to a café outside of town and when he arrived, he’d walked straight to a woman sitting at one of the tables and hugged her. Maybe she was an old friend? That’s what you’d hoped but your mind didn’t go that route and you thought the worst; he was cheating on you.

You left that café in tears and full of anger. How could he do this to you? He told you he loved you and you thought of Elijah as a noble and honest man. He’d never give you any reason to doubt him, but now you didn’t know what to believe.

You didn’t go home that night and when Elijah returned home, he was taken back by your absence. He found his sister sitting by the fire with a magazine in her hand, “Rebekah, where’s y/n?”

Rebekah shrugged, “I don’t keep up with her. She’s a grown woman who can go where she pleases.”

“It’s after midnight though. She isn’t one to stay out late at night.”

“Oh, Elijah I’m sure she’s perfectly fine. Have you tried calling her?”

“Yes.” He mutters, “But it went straight to voicemail.”

“Maybe she lost track of time?” Rebekah suggests, but Elijah knows your schedule. You weren’t one for late nights out. You loved your sleep and was usually in bed by this hour.

“I think I’ll go into town and find her. It worries me she isn’t home at this hour.” He left the house and drove straight to town to check your usual hang out places. The ones that were open of course.

He found your car at a small dive bar, “What the hell is she doing at a bar?” He mutters to himself as he exits his vehicle and heads inside.

“excuse me bartender!” You tapped your hand on the counter with a smile, “Another one please!” You were drunk and slurring your words.

The bartender raises an eyebrow at you, “You sure you want another little lady?”

You pouted and pulled a $100 out of your purse, curtesy of being with an original vampire that was rich, “Pour me another damn drink.”

Elijah stalked toward you and put his hand on the $100 bill before the bartender could grab it, “I think she’s quite finished. Thank you.”

“Hey!” You smile at the sight of Elijah, “Did you have fun with your new girlfriend?!” You point to Elijah as you look at the bartender, “This is my cheating boyfriend.” You slur.

“What in bloody name are you talking about? New girlfriend?”

“I followed you today and saw you with your new girlfriend.” You swayed in the chair, “She’s very pretty. Much prettier than me!” You sing song, “I mean you were being soooo secretive.”

Elijah massages his forehead with his fingers with a groan, “She’s not who you think she is..”

“Then who the hell is she? Hmm?” You use all of your energy to slip off the stool, stumbling in the process.

Elijah quickly steadied you, “You’re drunk and I’m not discussing this with you.”

You let out a squeal of surprise as Elijah throws you over his shoulder, “I wasn’t done drinking!”

“Oh yes you are.” He mutters carrying you out of the bar over his shoulder. He ignored the looks people gave him and walked you straight to his car. You muttered incoherent things and by the time he made it to his car you’d passed out over his shoulder.

~

You woke up with a throbbing head and was grateful for the aspirin and glass of water on the bedside table. You wracked your brain trying to remember what happened last night. Bar, drinks.. Elijah. Elijah brought you home.

As if he could read your mind he’d walked in fully dressed in his suit, “I want to show you something, so get showered and dressed.”

You didn’t argue and did what he said, “Where are you taking me?” You ask as the two of you walk to his car. Elijah opens the door for you, “You’ll see.”

~

He drives for a little bit before arriving at a gated driveway, “Where the heck are we?” He pushes a button on the gate and it opens, “What I’ve been working on these passed few months.” He drives down the long driveway lined with trees. It finally clears and there at the end of the driveway is a large historic home. There were ladders and equipment around the home and you figured it was in the process of being remodeled or restored. However, it looked almost complete.

Elijah parked the car in front of the house, “I haven’t been cheating on you.” He motions to the house, “I was hoping to surprise you when it was finished... but it seems I will just have to show you now.”

You follow him out of the car and up the front steps and you take in the scenery around you, “Elijah this place is beautiful...”

“I’m glad you like it...” He puts his hands on your shoulders and kisses the back of your head, “Welcome home, y/n.”

“What?” You turn around in his arms.

He chuckles at your expression, “This is our home. I’ve been working on restoring it and well that’s why I’ve been so secretive. I wanted to wait and surprise you when it was finished.”

You felt tears prick your eyes, “oh Elijah... I’m so sorry that I assumed...”

He shakes his head, “I gave you every impression that I was cheating and I’m sorry for that. The woman you saw yesterday was the interior decorator and we were putting together the finishing touches.” He steps away and unlocks the door, “So, would you like to see the inside?”

All my works tag list: @blossomreed​ , @mggstyles  , @simonsbluee​ , @thewolf-and-thesheep​ , @obxrafejjwhore​ , @abbiesthings​ , @itstaskeen​ , @reniescarlett​

The Vampire Diaries / The Originals tag list: @thefandomplace​ , @taylordrunkonwhiskey , @somewhatasoftbaddie , @toomuchtv95​ , @losers-club6​ , @daddydobrockk , @akshi8278​ , @idkhaylijah​ , @harpersmariano​ , @dpaccione​ , @hellotvshowtrash​ , @akshi8278​

[hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform]

Old Friends

Chapter Fifteen

Russell Adler x GN!Bell Reader

A Black Ops Cold War cop AU

Masterpost

Chapter 14

SHIPPINGNET Warehouse

Monday, April 26

11:50 pm

As you had suspected, it took you several days of back and forth over the messenger for the person (or people) on the other end to invite you somewhere.

In truth, the person who was headed to the meeting was Officer Trinh. You’d wanted to go yourself, but the chance you would be recognised would be far too high, given that this group had actively targeted you in the past.

You ended up on lookout, stationed in the same car as Adler, watching a doorway around the back of the building. You could hear through the earpieces the other officers checking in, confirming positions and giving status reports. You let Adler relay your reports, trying to relax in the steady silence between you.

As the time moved closer to midnight, when the meeting would occur, Hudson finally arrived on comms, patching the relevant people into the feed from the bugs hidden in Trinh’s collar. Now able to hear the continual feedback from her surroundings, currently the voices of officers moving around her in the final moments of prep, you found yourself becoming more anxious.

Russell reached over, taking your hand; a form of silent reassurance as you both waited.

You couldn’t resist thinking about after tonight, when you’d be able to relax again, knowing this case had been wrapped up. Your police training said otherwise, that it was dangerous to relax and assume a case was over until you were filing the paperwork, but this time you couldn’t help yourself.

Russell seemed to be in a similar mind to you, sighing as his thumb stroked over your palm. Despite that, he still found time to call you out.

“Stay focused, Bell.”

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised, meeting your own stare in his sunglasses, the edges of his mouth turned up in a smile as you laughed. After a moment, you pulled your hand free to pick up the binoculars, training them on the door to the warehouse.

“She’ll be fine.”

“I know.” You responded. After all, it was you who’d spent the afternoon working with Trinh, going through your messages to make sure you two would be working with the same character to avoid raising suspicion. “It’s still a huge risk.”

“A calculated risk. Besides, it’s not like we have any other options.”

“Why can’t you just say everything is going to be okay for once?”

“I’m not that kind of man, Bell.”

“I’m glad, I wouldn’t want you to be.”

He reached out, pulling your attention away from the door as he ran his finger down your cheek. “This time tomorrow the case’ll be closed.”

“I suppose.”

“You’ll stay around for the paperwork.”

“Course. They won’t let me skip out on that. ‘Sides, I’m not letting you go that easy, Russ.”

He smiled, looking back out at the doorway. “Me either.”

You focused back on the doorway, watching Trinh as she approached, knocking on the metal, the sound coming through with a half second delay on your earpieces. It opened, someone beckoning her inside.

“Anyone get a visual on them?”

The string of negative replies was interrupted by you as you listened to the voice who was greeting Trinh on the other side of the door.

“That’s Evan Jones.”

“Are you sure?” Hudson questioned.

“Either it’s him or someone who sounds very like him.” Adler replied, backing you up.

“Okay. All units, be ready to respond.”

You were, waiting through the long minutes of incoherent rambling, Trinh staying silent as she was talked at. She and Jones were walking across a large room at a slow pace, the faint echo of their footsteps audible through the earpiece, pausing as Jones spoke.

“We’re all here tonight. We will all ascend to the Meiset together. Our activities have been too widely noticed for us to linger here. They’ll keep us from our purpose.”

“I don’t like that.” Woods’ voice crackled over the comms.

“What are they planning to do?” Hudson countered.

“Nothing good.” Adler responded, checking his gun, looking back at the building.

Jones had led Trinh through into another room with several people in it, their voices overlapping as Trinh was introduced to them.

“Are these the voices we heard on the tapes?” Adler asked.

“Can’t tell.” You replied, brow furrowing as you tried to work out what was being said, until you heard Trinh drop the codeword.

Around the building, everyone leapt into action. Jumping out of cars, vans, running towards the entrances of the building, only half listening to your ear pieces as you and Adler ran towards the door Trinh had entered through; Mason, Woods and Lazar visible across the way as they swarmed with a group of officers towards the main building.

“Stop!” The powerful command coming through the ear pieces did halt you in your tracks for a moment as you glanced at each other.

“Who was that?” Lazar enquired on the loop, Adler reaching up to respond.

“Radio silence. They could be listening to us.”

You shook your head. “I doubt that. They’re probably just talking through the bug on Trinh.”

“Hold positions.” Hudson ordered over the comms, Mason and Woods ordering their officers to fan out to surround the main door; you standing ready to take the door, Adler covering you.

Everyone listened to the comms, silently waiting, only hearing muffled rustling, before the audio cleared, and a different voice could be heard over it.

“It seems we have a traitor in our midst, loyal ones. An officer of the law, if we’re not mistaken.”

“Shit.” You swore. Adler met your gaze, his lips pressing together.

You could hear Trinh struggling, growing more distant, leaving you to assume that the bugs had been removed from her person.

“All of you outside the building, listen to me. We are unarmed. We seek only our freedom. Freedom that is within our rights as humans. You must allow us this. Your officer will remain unharmed.”

“Can we trust this guy?”

“Doubt it.” Mason responded to Woods, a glance in their direction showing them signalling the officers around them.

“Proceed.” Hudson’s order came, and you followed it.

Adler opened the door outwards as you walked in, eyes sweeping across the large warehouse as he followed in behind you, the pair of you moving around the packing benches spread across the space towards the doors on the far wall.

Lazar and Sims emerged from the near corner of the building, joining you to walk across the space, the two men splitting off with a silent nod towards the smaller doors further up the wall.

You and Russell were still receiving the ramblings from the bugs on Trinh, each taking a place besides the doors as you waited.

“The Meiset sees those who would keep us from their embrace; we will consume their souls when the Meiset frees us!”

The few minutes that passed felt like hours, as you could only think for Trinh and her safety. The man’s ramblings grew more extreme as he realised he was getting nowhere by preaching to the officers.

Lazar and Sims joined you, confirming that the other doors were unoccupied offices, taking places behind you and Adler, who stood forward, waiting for the signal from Hudson.

“Go.” The single word from the man set a lot into motion.

Adler burst through the double doors into the shipping bay, closely followed by you, Lazar and Sims. The bay doors were being pushed open, Mason and Woods leading the officers to spill inside, shouts from both sides filling the air as the officers started issuing orders.

You glanced around the room. The company's supplies had been pushed against the walls, chairs arranged together in rows in front of a makeshift stage of workbenches. The people who had previously occupied them were standing up, crowding together at the base of the stage, twenty five, thirty in number. Trinh was among them, her arm held by Jones, who was looking between the officers and the man on the stage.

Dressed in black and red robes, he stood behind a podium, arms raised as he preached, presumably who had been speaking over the bugs, now reduced to unintelligible shrieking. The mural was painted behind him on the wall, and as you looked, you could see the stencil propped up against one side of the stage.

You approached, Jones releasing Trinh as the officers surrounded the group, Trinh hurriedly walking to your side, allowing you to escort her back past the line of officers to a safe distance.

“YOU!” Or, you would have, if not for the yell from behind you.

Trinh kept walking as you turned back, facing the man on the stage, who was pointing directly at you. Everyone in the crowd’s eyes snapped to you.

You turned to fully face them, confident in the rows of officers behind you, watching as the man climbed down from the stage, passing through the crowd to approach you.

“You’re dead. You were incinerated in the blest fires of the Meiset. How are you here?”

“Sir, stay where you are.” You held out a hand, indicating for him to stop walking towards you. He did so, eyes roaming around the room.

“If you’re here, they must have sent you back. They must have sent both of you back. Where is he?”

You could hear Hudson saying something on your earpiece, probably ordering you to stop engaging, but this was a risk you were going to take. Hudson be damned, you weren’t about to give in to what this man wanted. Given the chance, he’d probably spin it that being shot here would be good enough for his soul to transfer or whatever it was supposed to do.

“Here.” Adler stepped forward to stand next to you, his gun lowered to his side.

The man inhaled. “They sent both of you back to see me. Give me a message.” He looked at you expectantly.

“Stand down. No one needs to get hurt.” You glanced out of the corner of your eye at Adler, catching him doing the same.

The man continued to look expectantly at the pair of you, before shaking his head.

“No. It’s not a message. It’s a punishment. I’ve done wrong things and the Meiset has sent you back to haunt me to punish me. Are you here to kill me?”

“No.” You replied. “Just stand down.”

“I can’t!” He cried back. “I cannot surrender my will to anyone but the Meiset!”

“Exactly. The Meiset wants you to stand down.” He stared into your eyes, arms lowering from above his head.

“It demands that?”

“Yes.” Adler took a step forward.

The man nodded, turning to his group. “We follow the will of the Meiset. Let us surrender.”

They looked hesitant, mumbling between each other at the quick change in their leader’s demeanour, but followed his example, allowing themselves to be arrested as Russell lead the officers in, shouts filling the area again.

Russell swiftly stepped in to arrest him, the crowd following their leader’s example, allowing themselves to be arrested by various officers, shouts filling the area again. You moved amongst them, issuing orders alongside Russell as the crowd was led outside to the waiting squad cars, clearing the space of the officers to seal the building off until the morning.

Outside, you and Russell got split up in the chaos, passing through the crowd of officers until you found Trinh, standing nearby to Hudson, who was issuing orders over the phone.

“Are you okay?” You approached Trinh.

“That was a completely unnecessary risk.” Hudson cut in before Trinh could respond.

“It wasn’t unnecessary. Besides, it worked.”

“You haven’t changed, have you? Still taking your calculated risks.”

“Hasn’t failed me yet.”

“It will one day.”

You met Hudson’s glare as he walked away.

“I’m fine.” Trinh answered your question.

“You sure?”

“They were true to their word, I’m not hurt. This could’ve gone a lot worse.”

“Tell me about it.” You sighed out, hearing Adler calling you from across the yard. “You’ll be okay on your own?”

“Course. See you later, Sarge.”

You nodded, turning around to cross back to the warehouse door, standing next to Adler. The pair of you watched as the squad cars pulled out of the yard in a flashing blue string, disappearing into the streets.

“It’s over.” He sighed, glancing towards you.

“I suppose so.” You looked at him, glancing over your shoulder to the officers gathered throughout the warehouse. “I’m glad no one got hurt.”

“Yeah.” He agreed, unconsciously fixing his hair again.

“Relax. They won’t take our picture for the papers until tomorrow.”

“Speak for yourself.” You saw the smile on his lips for half a second.

“What are we doing now? What’d Hudson want us to do?”

“He wants a presence maintained until the crime techs can get out here, but they won’t be able to until morning. I’ve got to head back to the precinct to start processing everything, so you’ll have to oversee that. I’ll try and convince Hudson to put together a relief squad.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you, Russ.”

—————————————————————————————————

[punkcorekiddo]

At arms length

18+

Pairing: X-23!reader x Bucky

Warnings: Torture, Hydra flashbacks, alluding phrases to sexual assault.

You tossed and turned in your sleep, mumbling incoherently. The stress from your flashback pressed tears from your eyes and your brow furrowed. The nightmares were strong this week, they always were after a stressful mission. This last one had been particularly hard on you. A call from the intelligence team woke up Romanoff at midnight, someone had broken into the X-Mansion, your old home. Since most of the X-men were away on an emergency call, they had asked for help from the Avengers, requesting that you come with as you knew the layout of the mansion better than anyone. Romanoff had pulled you out of bed and flew the two of you on the quinjet as fast as she could. When the two of you had reached the mansion you recognized the perpetrators as members of the Brotherhood. They ran once they realized Black Widow and you were on the scene. Their intentions for breaking into the school were unknown, but they had been violent in doing so. The students had fought back, and most of them had been injured in the fight. One of the victims had been extremely hurt, you found her body outside, it had been thrown from a window upstairs, he limbs were mangled and she was fighting to breathe. The sight of her maimed body resurfaced memories of your time incarcerated by Hydra. It reminded you of the times they had played with your body and tortured you for hours on end, just to test your regenerative abilities.

The memories haunt you in your sleep tonight, as you dream you can feel the weight of a man on top of you, pinning your arms down with your knees, crushing through the bones in your elbows as he did so. His fist clashed repeatedly with your face, cracking a new bone with every hit.

"It is working!" He shrieked your attacker, a sick grin plastered on his face. "The enhanced serum you administered, doctor, she is healing fast than ever."

You jolted awake at the sound of someone opening your door, your claws launched from your hands and feet, and you screamed as you lunged at the figure standing in the doorframe. The figure leaped into your attack, grasping your wrists in his large hands and sweeping your feet out from under you, he held you firmly to the ground.

"Hey! Hey! (y/n) it's me, it's Bucky, you're okay, come back to me." Bucky said calmly as you writhed under his grasp.

You slowed your movement as you came to, realizing the familiar face was not a threat.

"I-I'm sorry!" You sobbed as your claws retracted back into your skeleton.

"It's okay. You didn't hurt me, alright?" Bucky whispered, "It was just a nightmare, you're safe now."

You noticed his face is only inches from yours, his hands have gone from pinning your wrists to holding them to his chest, and the close vicinity makes your heart skip a beat, a sign of weakness. You scoot back quickly until your back hits your bed.

"Bucky what the fuck is wrong with you?" You shout, your eyes betray you as tears fall from your cheeks, and you brush them away, "I could have killed you! Don't come into my room when I'm like this, I can't control myself. I'll hurt you."

"I was just trying to help, (y/n). I'm not scared of you, I know what it's like, to have to live with what Hydra did to you." Bucky said, he didn't show it but your harsh words had stung, although he understood what you were doing. He had been in your position not too long ago, scared and convinced he was a monster. He knew you thought you were protecting yourself by keeping him away.

"Don't pretend you know me, Bucky" you huffed indignantly, "you had a life before Hydra, ok? I am theirs! I was born there and grew up there!"

Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line, "you're right, I don't understand everything. I was there too though, ok? So just... I don't know. You're not alone, that's it."

"Get out of my room, please." You order quietly as you crawl back into your bed, guilt grasping at you for pushing him away. You turn over and wait for him to leave, he does after a second. You listen as his footsteps retreat back to the end of the hall to his living quarters.

Bucky sighs as he lays back down in his bed, thinking of you. It made him angry and sick to his stomach, the thought of what you had gone through at the hands of Hydra. He would find those bastards who were responsible for your pain one day, and he would set them on fire and let them die a horrible, painful death. Since you left the X-men and Natasha had recruited you to join the Avengers a year ago, he had felt a strong connection to you. The fact that both of you had suffered at the hands of Hydra meant that he wasn't alone. You had spent most of your first year with the Avengers holed up in your living quarters, Tony had been understanding of your reclusive habits and put you in a room that more so resembled a large studio apartment, equipped with a kitchen, a living room, and a small area with workout equipment. The only reason you ever needed to leave your room was to do laundry. Bucky had learned your routine, he knew that every Sunday at 1700 and every Thursday at 1900 you would be in the laundry room. He made sure he was always close, either doing his laundry alongside you or walking in the corridor at the same time as you. He yearned to know you, your pasts so connected, yet off by just a few years made him feel as though you two were meant to meet. Your looks had only heightened his curiosity about you, the way your hair framed your perfectly proportioned face made it impossible for him to look away from you. Every time your (y/e/c) eyes caught his gaze he felt a surge of infatuation. He couldn't take his eyes off your lips as you focused on your laundry, everything about you was so incredibly beautiful to him. He thought about holding your hands to his chest tonight, how you had trusted his touch enough to come back to reality for him. His face so close to yours made his heart skip. He had wanted to pull you in and feel you curl up against his chest, to feel safe enough with him to sleep there. Turning over in his bed, Bucky reached out to the vast emptiness next to him and fantasized about you laying there. He understood so well the pain you were feeling, he knew you felt as though to be safe you needed to push him away. He knew you needed space, but could not stop thinking about the day you would let him in.