#if you don’t like it that’s fine just leave it at that

[moondirti]

soap goes to the gym in nothing but a muscle tank and a pair of old, worn shorts. it’s the same articles of clothing every time, too. like he has nothing better to wear than the ratty combo, and nothing better to do than taunt you with just how exposed it leaves him.

maybe a case could be made for the shirt. the armholes have gotten stretched with time, you see, and he says that’s good for mobility — even if it does give you an eyeful of side-pec the second he raises his arms. which is fine, you suppose. there’s nothing new about a thick chest carpeted in coarse, curly hair. or about muscled lines that cut down to a man’s armpits, his biceps the size of your head, or the vulgar breadth of his neck when he tenses on the pulley machine. even if it does leave you a little bit dizzy. it certainly isn’t the worst thing in the world.

definitely not the worst thing about his whole getup.

because the shorts are loose too. made of a sweat-wicking material and fitted for aerobic sports. you don’t think he knows that, and if he did, you don’t think he’d care. he prefers the airflow, or so he says. likes the way it keeps him cool while he works up a sweat. you’d be inclined to let it pass, if it weren’t for the fact that he forgoes boxers, too.

and it’s no secret. it must be thick, you think, fat and heavy if it makes such a prominent silhouette even while soft. you catch flashes of it through his leg holes sometimes. from a few feet away, on a water break while he straddles and lays back down on a bench. dark and folded against a burly thigh, trapped between fabric and muscle like it’s straining to escape. or when he’s on the leg press, and deigns to tuck it up behind his loose waistband to get it out of the way; you’ll get a glimpse of the flushed tip of it, always glistening, like he’s perpetually primed for something. perhaps it’s the endorphins that get him so worked up. he fits the mould of one of those freaks.

still. it’s… harder to ignore.

and when you’d once waited to get home before taking your showers, his terrible propensity for exhibitionism almost always ends up with you in the gym’s communal ones, working up a new kind of sweat. cold water beating down your back, hair matted to your forehead, hand shamefully tucked between your legs. biting your lip hard enough to taste blood. you never draw it out, and always cum in a guilty finish, like the world might catch on to your gross, voyeuristic habit.

it’s on one of those days that you walk out of the shower to find johnny — grinning, sweaty, waiting — and realise that it wasn’t the world you should’ve been worried about listening in, but him.

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Kiss Tax | LN4

💋 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N doesn't like Lando's stubble.

💋 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

💋 word count ━━━━━━━ 2.2k

💋 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

Based on this request.

Lando’s lips brushed against Y/N’s, his hands cradling her face like she was something delicate, something precious. She leaned into him, her fingers sliding into his curls, tugging him closer, needing more. But then—the scrape of stubble rubbed raw against her skin. She winced, yanking her head back with a sharp inhale.

“What?” Lando froze mid-kiss, his hands still framing her face, his eyes searching hers.

“Your stupid stubble,” she hissed, rubbing the tender spot on her chin. “It’s like kissing a cheese grater. I told you I can’t stand it.”

His brows arched, a slow, defiant smirk spreading across his face. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” She shot him a glare, crossing her arms. “It’s horrible. I’m not kissing you again until you shave it off.”

Lando tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “Really? You’re going to deny yourself this”—he leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth, his voice dropping to that low, husky tone that made her stomach tighten—”because of a little stubble?”

She turned her face away, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened. “Yes. Because it’s not a *little* stubble. It’s like barbed wire.”

“Barbed wire.” He laughed, leaning back on the couch, his arms spread wide. “Dramatic much?”

“I’m serious, Lando.” Her voice was firm, but the way her lips twitched betrayed her. “I’m not putting up with it. It’s uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable.” He repeated the word slowly, as if savoring it. His eyes narrowed playfully. “So, what you’re saying is, you’re a bit of a princess when it comes to this stuff.”

“A princess?” Her voice rose, her jaw dropping. “Excuse me? I’m not the one walking around with a face like a cactus.”

“Cactus.” He laughed again, shaking his head. “First barbed wire, now cactus. What’s next? Sandpaper? A rusty knife?”

“Don’t tempt me,” she shot back, but the corners of her mouth were curving now, despite herself.

Lando leaned forward again, his face inches from hers, his smirk turning devilish. “You know, I think you secretly like it. I think you just like giving me a hard time.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes, pushing at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “I don’t secretly like anything about it. It’s scratchy, it’s irritating, and I’m not letting you near me again until you fix it.”

“Fix it, huh?” His voice dropped, a low rumble that sent a shiver racing down her spine. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer. “What if I fix it right now? What if I make it all better for you?”

She tried to hold onto her annoyance, but the look in his eyes—teasing, warm, and just a little bit dangerous—was making it impossible. “Fine,” she said, her voice softer now. “Go on, then. Fix it.”

He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of her nose before standing up. “Stay there,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Don’t move.”

“Where are you going?” she called after him, though she already knew the answer.

“To fix the cactus,” he threw over his shoulder, disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of water running and the faint buzz of his razor filled the quiet apartment.

Y/N leaned back on the couch, shaking her head, but the smile tugging at her lips was impossible to ignore. Lando always knew how to turn things around, how to make even their little quarrels feel like foreplay. And no matter how much she fought it, she loved him for it.

When he returned, his face clean-shaven and smooth, Lando’s gaze locked on hers with an intensity that made the air between them crackle. He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischief. "Better?" he asked, his voice a low purr, edging closer until his presence filled her space.

Her fingers reached up, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver up her arm. "Much," she admitted, her voice soft but laced with the slight teasing lilt he loved. The corners of her mouth curved, but before she could say more, his lips were on hers, hard and insistent, and the world narrowed to the feel of him.

Lando kissed her like he was memorizing her, mapping her lips with his tongue, his breath mingling with hers in a rhythm that was all theirs. His hands framed her face, and he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer when she thought it wasn’t possible. He loved kissing her—loved the way her lips softened under his, the way she gasped into his mouth, the way her fingers curled into his shoulders as though she couldn’t get enough of him. Each kiss felt like a revelation, something new yet familiar, like coming home after a storm.

For Y/N, kissing Lando was like diving into the ocean and forgetting how to surface. His lips were soft yet demanding, a contradiction that left her dizzy. Each time their lips met, it was like the first time—raw, electric, and achingly sweet. Fire sparked low in her belly as he nipped at her bottom lip, drawing a sound from her that he swallowed hungrily. She loved the weight of him, the pressure of his body pressing her into the couch, making her feel thoroughly claimed and utterly wanted.

Her breath hitched as one of his hands slid into her hair, tugging gently to expose her neck. The scrape of his tongue against her pulse point made her stomach clench. She slid her fingers into his curls, and he groaned when her nails dragged across his scalp. Kissing him felt like surrender, like defeat, but it wasn’t that. It was something more, something she hadn’t learned how to name yet.

Lando pulled back, barely an inch, and smirked at how breathless she was. His thumb brushed over her swollen lower lip, and he watched raptly as she exhaled sharply. "You’re beautiful like this," he said, his voice rough. He loved seeing her unravel for him, loved knowing he was the one who could make her forget everything but his touch.

"Flatterer," she teased, her voice raspy but still laced with that playful edge. Her cheeks flushed as she tried to stem the warmth radiating from her chest.

"Confident," he corrected with a low chuckle, leaning in to kiss her once more before nipping at her ear. "Always confident when it comes to you."

Before she could respond, Lando was on his knees in front of her, his hands sliding under her thighs to pull her closer to the edge of the couch. Her oversized t-shirt rode up slightly, revealing the curve of her waist, and she shivered as his fingers hooked into the lace of her underwear.

“Lando—” she started, her voice already breathless as he tugged the fabric down her legs, letting it fall to the floor. Her cheeks flushed, but his eyes—dark and hungry—held hers, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

“Trust me,” he whispered, his voice low and gravelly, his lips brushing the inside of her thigh. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver racing through her, and when he leaned in closer, her legs instinctively parted, giving him the access he sought.

Lando’s gaze flicked up to hers, his lips curving into a smirk. “So perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with reverence. “God, I could spend hours here.” He dipped his head, his tongue dragging a slow, deliberate line up her slit, and she gasped, her hands flying to his hair.

He chuckled against her, the vibration sending a jolt straight to her core. “Tastes so fucking good,” he rasped, his tongue swirling around her clit with a rhythm that made her hips jerk. “You always react so beautifully for me.”

Her head fell back, a moan escaping her lips as his tongue worked its magic, lapping at her in long, slow strokes before flicking over her sensitive bud with precision. “Lando, oh my god,” she panted, her fingers tightening in his curls. “That feels—that’s so...”

“I know,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to tease her with his breath. “But don’t stop talking. Tell me how good it feels.”

She bit her lip, her hips lifting instinctively as he dipped his tongue inside her, the sensation sending sparks shooting through her. “Please, don’t stop,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “It’s—it’s so good, Lando. I can’t...”

He hummed against her, the sound vibrating through her very core, and she gasped when he slipped a finger inside her, curling it just right. “You’re so wet,” he growled, his lips brushing her clit as he spoke. “Always so responsive for me. It drives me fucking crazy.”

His finger began to move, thrusting in and out in a steady rhythm as his tongue continued its relentless assault on her clit. The dual sensation was overwhelming, and she could feel herself hovering on the edge, only for him to slow down, his teasing smirk evident even without her looking at him.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “I want to make you feel every second of this.”

She whimpered, her nails grazing his scalp. “Please, Lando, I need—”

“Need what?” he interrupted, his voice thick with mischief. “Tell me.”

She barely managed to form coherent words as he added a second finger, stretching her perfectly, his tongue circling her clit with maddening precision. “I need to come,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “Please, baby, let me—”

“Good girl,” he whispered, and that was all it took. His lips closed around her clit, sucking hard, and she came with a cry, her body shuddering violently as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Lando didn’t let up, working her through it until she was whimpering, her body limp and trembling.

When he finally pulled back, his chin glistening, he looked up at her with a smirk that made her heart skip a beat. “So,” he said, his voice rough with desire. “Did I clean my face completely?”

She laughed breathlessly, her fingers tracing his jawline. “Yes,” she replied, her voice soft and sated. “You did.”

Lando’s lips lingered on the inside of her thigh, his breath warm against her sensitive skin, igniting another spark despite her already trembling body. He crawled up her body, slow and deliberate, his movements smooth, like a predator savoring his prey. When his face hovered just above hers, their breath mingling, he smirked—that cocky, heart-stopping smirk that always had her knees buckling.

“Good,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction, before his lips crashed onto hers in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue tangled with hers, claiming her mouth with the same intensity he’d claimed her body mere moments ago. She moaned softly into him, her hands sliding up to grip his shoulders, holding onto him as if he were the only anchor in the world.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing ragged, he gazed down at her with an intensity that made her heart pound. “Still mad about the stubble?” he teased, his thumb brushing her cheek.

She chuckled, the sound low and sated. “I think you’ve more than made up for it,” she murmured, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his back.

“Good,” he said again, his lips curving into a satisfied grin. He pressed another kiss to her lips, this one softer, slower, lingering long enough to make her sigh. Then he shifted, pulling her closer until their bodies were wrapped around each other like they were meant to be and somehow always ended up, a tangle of limbs warmth. And everything else melted away.

He reached for the throw blanket draped over the back of the couch, and gently wrapped it around them. Her head rested on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling her into a contented daze. For a while, they simply lay there, the silence between them thick with unspoken promises and lingering desire. And then, softly, Y/N broke the quiet.

“You know,” she started, her voice playful but with a hint of vulnerability, “you’ve made it really hard for me to stay mad at you.”

Lando chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter rumbling through her. “Good,” he said again, his fingers idly tracing shapes on her arm. “That was the plan.”

She tilted her head to look up at him, her gaze searching as she asked, “But what about me? Aren’t I supposed to be the one who keeps you in check?”

His smirk returned full force, teasing and irresistible. “Oh, I think you keep me plenty in check,” he replied, leaning in to kiss her temple. “But maybe, just maybe, even Lando Norris isn’t as in control as he’d like to believe.”

She laughed lightly, punching him softly on the chest. “Careful,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “That admission might hurt your ego.”

“For you,” he replied instantly, his voice softening as he cupped her cheek with his free hand, “it’s worth the risk.”

Y/n’s breath caught, her smile softening as she gazed at him. “You’re such a romantic,” she murmured, something in the way she said it both light and serious—warning, acceptance, warmth all rolled into one.

He grinned, pressing another affectionate kiss to her hair. “Only for you,” he whispered. “Only ever for you.”

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Headcanon that bludhaven hates heroes with a flaming passion bc theyre just cops in tights but love Nightwing and therefore vehemently deny his hero status to anyone and everyone.

Like there is no official Nightwing merch bc he’s a criminal he’s committing a crime okay vigilante justice is in fact not legal and he’s not TECHNICALLY on the justice league and he’s NOT TECHNICALLY the leader of the titans anymore. But there are about 400 different Etsy stores that make hoodies, crop tops, joggers, sweats, sunglasses, bracelets, t shirts with nightwings logo or some art of him on them.

Like they love this guy and will get into beef with any Gotham national who tries to claim Nightwing is THEIR hero.

1) hes not a hero he’s a criminal fuck you

2) you have a hero and just bc he’s shit at his job and needs our guy (who is NOT a hero) to help him sometimes doesn’t MEAN SHIT

people are walking around with tiny v shaped blue tattoos or embroidered on clothing but again NOT A HERO BLUDHAVEN DOESNT DO HEROS

There are coffee shops with bad nightwing pun names nightbird, beanwing, nightwinging it and so on

Every third piece of graffiti is this man’s logo

Every sandwich place or fast food chain has a ‘secret menu item’ that’s not actually secret bc everyone orders it and it’s just one of their normal items dyed blue (sodas, desserts, burger buns, condiments so on) some places will sell wings fried in blue panko bread crumbs and call them them ‘nightwings’ ofc these are ALL off the menu you can’t see these items and if you try to order them out of the city you get weird looks.

Superman goes on tv and says Nightwing is one of his favorite hero’s and bludhaven riots. wtf nightwing is your favorite hero you fuckin poser

1) nightwing isn’t a hero he’s a criminal so back off

2) he’s ours you and your frou frou fancy city that hasn’t been nuked by a sentient pile of radiation can fuck RIGHT off

Naturally the only person in bludhaven who is unaware of this is Dick Grayson bc tbh this man is too busy to give a fuck about what his city thinks of him. They trust him to get shit done. Good that’s all he needs okay he has 22 reports he needs to log he’s busy.

Tim Drake professional nightwing fanboy however is fucking furious about this because.

A) dick was a GOTHAM hero FIRST and bludhaven can suck it

B) fuck you nightwing isn’t just a a hero he’s THE HERO and the BEST hero and don’t be rude bc you have a complex

C) all of the cool nightwing merch only ships around bludhaven so has to get it ordered there and it’s just a hassle and he’d pay double he swears just let him get it delivered to where he is please Everytime he stops by bludhaven he leaves with 10 new pieces of nightwing merch and bc he has so much. Damian doesn’t think he notices when some of his doubles mysteriously go missing. He does.

D) since they are anti hero they are firmly unhelpful whenever he or Steph show up bc a case has lead them to the city

The one plus side was watching Jason Todd having a mental breakdown bc apparently in bludhaven redhood counts as a hero and is therefore hated.

“Yous worked with the bat yous a hero thems the rules”

“I KILL PEOPLE”

“Yeah so do cops and people always call them heroes”

“Okay but I kill people to protect the general public I put down scum”

“Cops say they do that too”

“I- okay you know what I’m a hero fine okay. Why isn’t nightwing a hero”

“Vigilante justice is a crime”

“I’m documentably worse than a vigilante”

“But you have worked with the bat”

“For money yeah”

“See you even get paid, face it you’re a hero which means you suck”

“You realize Nightwing has worked with the bat right like way more than I have”

“Listen that ain’t his fault okay, the bats incompetent and so are the rest to you idiots. He’s a nice guy and a good neighbor don’t mean he’s a hero”

“I- what the fuck is in this cities water”

“I don’t fuckin know but it’s prolly better than whatever gothams got in its harbor”

“I- yeah you’re probably right”

[crushpunky]

actress!reader helps drew rehearse a scene

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based off this ask <3

“‘Their lips touch hesitantly, they pull away, then they continue intensely. It looks as if the two are trying to eat each other’?” Drew reads, an exasperated expression on his face from the opposite end of the couch. He had been reading through the scene he was supposed to begin rehearsal for next week. When he auditioned for Queer, he knew that it was going to be something intense, like Luca’s other projects and unlike anything else he had worked on. Sure, he’d done explicit scenes in the past, but nothing quite as intimate or personal as the ones Luca had written for Queer.

“So like biting or…?” Y/n quirked a brow, looking up from her book as she listened to Drew’s occasional comments on the script.

“I think it’s more of a like… consumption thing, y’know? Like wanting to have the person wholly, I think.” Drew nodded, adjusting his glasses as he looked over the words again. Y/n nodded, biting her bottom lip as she watched Drew, her book now long gone on the coffee table in front of them.

“‘The two hit back and forth, almost a dance of push and pull. It’s messy and intense, but beautiful and clean’. How are you supposed to act messily and cleanly? With fuckin’ Daniel Craig, let alone?” Drew sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tossed the script down. 

“I think it’s like the act itself is messy and intense, but it’s also a beautiful and almost perfectly clean and serene moment of realization.” Y/n propped her elbow up on the back of the couch, her other hand coming to rest on one of Drew’s legs that stretched across the couch. She soothed her hand along the skin of his calf, watching as he looked off into space as he thought, running the scene through his head. With a sigh, he ran a hand down his face before slinking down into the couch.

“I get it, I just… it’s gonna feel strange showing that level of intensity with someone else...” Drew chewed at his bottom lip before his eyes fell back on y/n, who had a sort of smirk on her face. 

“I think you’ll do just fine, Drew.” Y/n tried to stifle a laugh. Drew shook his head, a light chuckle leaving his lips as he sat up, his arms reaching out around y/n and pulling her to sit against his chest.

“With someone else that isn’t my girlfriend.” Drew clarified, running a hand along her side as she looked at him.

“Well, what would you usually do? Let’s start there.” Y/n sat up, across from Drew, their legs entwined as they looked at each other.

“Well, it says they touch hesitantly so—” Drew pressed his lips quickly to hers before pulling away slightly, his eyes looking down at her lips before flicking up to meet her own gaze.

“Then…” Drew mutters, a hand coming up to rest on her neck as he hesitantly leaned in before opening his lips wide… too wide. He pressed his lips to her face, his mouth open as he nearly took a bite out of her nose which caused her to sputter a laugh into his mouth. He pulled away quickly, his eyes wide as he looked at her with a slight cough.

“What are you doing?!” Y/n laughed, wiping a bit of slobber off her mouth.

“I don’t know! I panicked! I– It said ‘like the two are trying to eat each other’ so I just went for it and—” Drew groaned. How was he supposed to do this? Let alone with a highly regarded actor and director? Why was he having such a hard time kissing his fucking girlfriend? He was usually a professional at that.

“You’re overthinking it, baby.” Y/n said, taking one of his hands. “Just… relax. It says it’s a dance. Just feel it.”

Drew nodded, running a hand through his hair quickly before straightening back up again. He took a deep breath as he brushed his lips across y/n’s lightly before pulling away. He only pulled far enough away to look at her through his thick lashes, his breath fanning across her lips before he cupped her jaw with one hand. He pulled her lips to his in a searing kiss as his other hand wrapped around her torso, pulling her flush to his chest.

The two of them continued, pushing back and forth as the kiss grew more intense and sloppy. Y/n’s hands rested on the back of Drew’s neck, her fingers burrowing in his hair as he opened his mouth widely, practically consuming each movement of her lips. Drew squeezed his eyes tightly as he continued, focusing on the moment and each and every movement the two of them made in their intricately beautiful dance. With a sudden gasp, the two of them finally pulled away from each other, gazes low, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed.

“I think you’ve got it.” Y/n whispered breathily before the two of them broke out in laughs and wide smiles. Drew pressed a quick kiss to the top of y/n’s head before falling back down on the couch, both of their chests heaving as they came down from the high of the intense moment.

“Yeah, me too.” Drew sighed.

[luvyeni]

DRUNK LOVERS GAME 𝕼. ( 박원빈 )

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 박원빈 x fem!reader )   ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. sexual tension, drinking, language, unprotected sex, strangers to lovers word count. 3.6k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

synopsis … playing a sex drinking game with … even though this is the first time yall met.

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ based on a card game i saw on tiktok shop 😭

‘We’re hosting a sleepover , tonight and since you’ll be here you have to participate’ should’ve been a red flag , why as college students would you have a sleepover?

correction; sleepover meant your roommate’s were inviting their boyfriends over to spend the night and they had a friend who was single and your roommates had the bright idea of setting you two up for the night. “come on , he’s super cute.” isa stood in your doorway. “don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“yes , but i also have eyes and i can see that wonbin is super cute.” she flopped down on your bed. “and you’re hot too , and you’re both single.” she said. “you two are a perfect match.” you turned around in your chair to face her. “im not having sex with him just so you can have sex with yours without feeling bad that i have to hear how loud you are being.” you turned to your other roommate chloe who was now standing in your doorway. “you either.”

“we never said you had to have sex with him.” isa said. “just don’t be a bitch to him, be nice and make him feel welcomed.” both of your roommates now sitting on your bed. “does he even know he’s about to be set up?” they looked at each other. “well sorta , seunghan felt bad leaving him alone in the apartment , so we told them to invite him over and we’ll introduce him to someone.” chloe said. “you being that someone.”

you sighed , you really didn’t want to do this; but where were you gonna go? it’s 10:30 and all your friends are gonna be occupied so you can’t go drink. “fuck it , fine i’ll entertain the guy my friends and their boyfriends sold me to for the night.” you said standing up. “okay now go get changed.” you stared at them. “and why would i do that?” you looked down at the fresh pajamas you just put on. “these are clean i swear.”

“yn you’re wearing minion pajama pants and a shirt 7 sizes too big for you , who’s shirt is that?” isa said. “it’s my dads , i think.” you said. “it has holes and stains on it.” chloe scrunched up her nose up in disgust. “you said i didn’t have to seduce him.” you stood hand on your hip. “yeah you also don’t have to run him away purposely ; take the damn thing off and change into a shirt little appealing and with less stains and holes.” your grumbled , going into your closet. “im keeping the pants on.” you turned around showing them the tank top. “appealing enough?”

“perfect that tank makes your boobs look nice and plump.” you rolled your eyes; taking your shirt off throwing it to the floor. “my comfy shirt replaced by this tank all in the sake of a boy i’ve never met.” you put the shirt on. “good.” they both gave you a thumbs up. “the pants are terrible , but he won’t be paying much attention to those especially when your boobs are literally all perked up like that.”

you helped set up the the food and blankets up for the movie. “these blankets here; yeah throw them away in the morning i want nothing to do with them after you all use them during the movie.” you shook disgusted. “don’t think like that yn.” isa said. “yeah , we’re all adults we’ll just get up and go into the room.” they both smirked while you looked mortified. “im gonna throw up.” you said; just as someone knocked on the door. “oh yn go get that ; isa is still doing that over there, and i have to go to bedroom to get some more things.”

you got up from the chair; going over to the door, opening it , the three boys standing in front of you; you’ve met sungchan and seunghan in passing , but you’ve never fully hung out with them. “hi.” seunghan said. “yn right?” you nodded. “yeah , they don’t have another roommate that i'm aware of so that would be me.” the one behind them chuckled. “come in, they're finished setting up.” you said , stepping to the side to let them in. “hannie!” you watched isa stop what she was doing to run over and hug the boy, chloe coming out to greet sungchan. “what’s that?” you pointed to the bag in her hands. “oh nothing , just something for later.” she said ominously. “oh that’s frightening.”

wonbin was fine with staying home; he really was, but his roommates had other ideas. “it’s just for one night.” sungchan said. “and yn is a nice girl.” seunghan said. “you just said you’ve only said hi and bye to her.” he said. “yeah and she was nice each and every time.” the younger boy said. “they don’t want her to feel left out in her own apartment , and it’s not like you have anything to do.”

and that’s how wonbin found himself in your apartment; staring at a girl in minion pajamas. “nice pajamas.” you looked down , back at him. “thank you.” both your friends forget about the both of you. “im yn.” you held your hand out. “you can shake it , i don’t bite.” he smiled , taking your hand shaking it. “see , unharmed , come on.” you said guiding him to the living room. “sorry my friends pushed me on you.” you said , chloe slapped your shoulder. “yn don’t say it like that , be nice.” she said , wonbin laughed; you were funny he had to admit, blunt but funny. “that was being nice , it wasn’t an attack on him.” you shot back. “she’s not always this bad.” she said. “she’s 10 times worst.” isa said sitting on seunghans lap. “trust once she’s had a drink she’ll soften up.”

“well let’s hope she does.” he said, staring at you as you walked; you were cute, talking to yourself in the kitchen as you prepared the drinks for everyone. “go help her.” sungchan said , he nodded , sitting his bag down following you into the kitchen. “do you need help?” you turned around to face the boy. “sure , you can be useful.” you handed him the bottles of soju , you held the cups , walking back into the living room. “thank you yn.” seunghan said , you nodded , sitting on the floor to give them space on the couch; wonbin sat down next to you.

the six of you sat around the table; eating food, drinking and joking around together. it was all fun , and wonbin wasn’t bad at all either. he was super nice and sweet , he poured your drinks , and got you food. he ever laughed at your horrible jokes when your friends didn’t. “he’s a better friend than you two are and i’ve known him for 3 hours.” you said, your friends rolling their eyes. “he even complimented my minion pants.” wonbin laughed next to you, you really did soften up once you had a drink. “he’s my new friend you two can go.”

“yeah? wonbin you agree with this?” seunghan said , his arm around isa. “of course.” wonbin responded , his knee bumping against yours, you both hadn’t even realized how close you’ve become. “so you both wouldn’t mind coupling up for the night to play a game?” chloe said. you both turned to each other. “are they trying to trick us?” you asked. “what game.” wonbin said , taking a sip of his drink. “it’s a drinking game.”

isa pulled the box of cards from the bag you saw earlier, you stared suspiciously at the box as she sat them on the table. “drunk lovers drinking game?” you read the box. “are you serious?” you scoffed. “why do you buy such nonsense?” your friend smiled. “late online shopping with a bottle of soju , now we have this.” she said. “let’s play.” everyone agreed , wonbin turned to you. “you wanna play.” he asked , you shrugged. “what’s the worst that could happen?”

“lick your partner below the waist or drink twice.” your eyes widened as you watched sungchan lift up isa’s shirt , licking right below her waists. “what the hell is this game.” you snatched the box off the table , reading it off. “what does it say?” wonbin said. “there’s two decks of cards , the pink ones are more tame and the black ones are….” you trailed off. “dirty.”

how the hell were you and wonbin gonna play this game? “chloe it’s your turn.” your friend picked up a pink card. “share your thoughts on an open relationship or drink once.” she read , sungchan sat up. “don’t you dare pick that drink up. “what !? i wasn’t.” she said. “don’t you two start fighting.” isa said. “go on.” sungchan said. “obviously i hate it , if you ever think of asking to go open it up , the cops will only find your ear.” she said turning to her boyfriend. “and what do you think about them?” she said , wonbin watched you look at the couple on the couple who clearly were in love with amusement , he then looked at the card game — which one was he supposed to pick , the pink one was based on relationship questions; he hardly knew you , as sweet and attractive you were , he’d only known you for 3 hours.

and he couldn’t pick up the black one; once again he knew you and what if he gets a super dirty one. “okay yn , you go.” you looked around the table; the pink ones were the obvious safe choice. “just chose the pink one.” wonbin said; you picked the card up , reading off it. “maintain intimate eye contact with your partner, first one of you to laugh had to take a drink.” you read , okay it’s not so bad. “oh yn is laughing first forsure.” isa said.

you and wonbin faced each other; you could already feel your face heating up, wonbin was extremely attractive and his eyes were naturally sensual and intimate. “i don’t know wonbin looks like he’s gonna break first , his hands look a little shaky.” it felt like forever before you just couldn’t take it anymore , you let out a shaky awkward laugh , looking away. “told you.” isa said , wonbin smirked , watching you take a shot , fanning your hot face. “yn you need a minute?” chloe smirked , you gave her the finger. “wonbin your turn.”

he went to reach for a pink card , when sungchan put his hand in front of it. “come on switch it up man , they already did two pinks.” he moved his hand over to the black deck , praying he didn’t get something drastic. “read it.” seunghan said; he turned the card around to red , his face turn it red. “what does it say?” you asked , he showed you the card , your eyes widened. “we can’t do that.”

“what does it say?” chloe asked , everyone looking interested in the answer. “recreate your partners favorite sex position.” wonbin said. “well.” isa said. “yn what’s your favorite position.” your eyes widened at the sudden invasion of your privacy. “we-well.” you scratched the back of your neck. although he was just as floored as you , he still was curious. “it’s missionary , but that’s not the point we can’t — lay back.” wonbin said , everyone turning to him. “huh?”

“yeah huh?” sungchan said; it might’ve been the alcohol talking , or maybe it was you being all flustered; but he just said fuck it. “i said lay back.” he repeated. “bu-but —if you don’t you have to take five shots of soju.” isa threw at you , the group on the couch oohing in a dramatic way. “what , the card says two.” you shot back. “my game , my rules.” you were gonna kill her. “go on.” chloe said. “you can do it.”

you couldn’t; you really couldn’t — but you did , you laid back on the floor. wonbins hands came up to your calf’s , pushing your legs apart , slotting himself in between; his hands on both sides of your head, he was now hovering above you; his gold chain dangling in front of your face. “how long do we have to do this.” wonbin asked. “the card says a minute.” he looked down at you ; taking in your face, your eyes were shut tight , hands in little fists. you could feel his lower half pressed against yours meanwhile he was thinking about ever unappealing thing he could think of so he wouldn’t get hard. you finally opened your eyes , and he prayed the time would finally come before you could feel him. “okay , times up.”

the two of you quickly unattached yourselves from each other. “wow both of you are extremely flustered right now.” chloe laughed. “shut up , just go.” you said , unable to look at anyone; especially the boy next to you who was the exact same way.

the rest of the game was not easy; in fact it seems like the game got even worse; the cards got even raunchy, even the pink ones seemed too much for you. “okay yn that’s the last card and it’s yours.” sungchan said , and it was a black one. you turned to wonbin who was already missing a shirt due to his last card pick , now that you weren’t complaining too much about , but you could already see his skin beet red; the godforsaken gold chain laying on his bare chest. “hey yn stop staring and go.” isa teased , making them laugh. “shut up.” you picked the card up. “give your partner a hickey.”

wonbin felt like he was going through the wringer already with this game; and this , your lips on his neck — how the hell was he gonna get through the night with a fucking hard on? the soju was gone so you couldn’t drink. “it’s the last card , let go out with a bang before we watch movies.” chloe said , wiggling her eyebrows. “o-okay.” you turned to wonbin. “how the hell do i do this?” you said to yourself. “just , come here.” he pulled you into his lap. “oh look how fast they’re moving.” seunghan said tipsy from the alcohol. “shut up.” wonbin said. “you’ve given a hickey before?”

“of course.” you said , just not to a boy you met five hours ago , and especially not a boy this attractive. “move your head to the side.” he felt your lips on his neck and he swore he almost let out a moan; and both your friends were cheering you both on. he clenched his fist to keep himself from letting out a noise as you sucked on his neck. after like 2 minutes of you sucking on his neck you finally pulled away, a red blotch appearing on his skin , you quickly climbed off the boy. “okay , game over.” you said. “let’s watch the movie.”

you grabbed all the empty bottles; running into the kitchen to throw them in the trash. wonbin grabbed the extra trash following behind you to leave the couples to clean up the card game. “you okay?” he said , you nodded , not turning around. “i-im fine.” you stuttered out , you finally turned around. “put your shirt back on.” you said. “why are you flustered still.” he smirked. “no , it’s cold.” you said , running past him back into the living room, he laughed to himself throwing the trash out, making his way back into the living room.

“you’ll thank us later for this.” isa said. “will i? how will this benefit me?” you said. “look at wonbins eyes and tell me he doesn’t want to fuck you , that’s how it will.” you two broke up your little circle , making your way back to the floor. “here.” he sat down next to you , handing you a blanket. “you said it’s cold.” he said. “i said you’re cold.” you mumbled to yourself. “yeah , i am.” he said, moving closer to you , putting the blanket over both of you. “but now im not.” he smiled , just as the lights went out.

you could feel the warmth of his body against yours as you watched the movie , you could barely keep your eyes on the tv instead your attention was on wonbin. you felt a pillow to the back of the bed which made both of you turn around; isa and seunghan making their escape. “where the hell did chloe go?” you said. “oh they left like 30 minutes ago; you two were too busy watching the movie.” seunghan said. “more like watch each other.” isa said. “good night.” you waved them off , standing up. “where are you going?” wonbin spoke up. “im going to my room.” you said. “no stay.” he said , grabbing your wrist. “the movie isn’t over.”

you sat back down on the floor next to him; looking forward at the tv ; but you could tell he wasn’t looking at the movie — he was looking at you. “i know you can feel me staring at you.” he whispered. “i-i can.” you said. “why-why though?” you finally turned to him. “why are you looking at me?”

“because i think you’re pretty.” he confessed; your heart skipped a beat. “thank you; you’re not to bad yourself.” you tried to sound confident , that was until he leaned in , his face close to yours; his eyes traveling down to your lips. “because i think you want to kiss me right now.” he said , you gulped nervously. “i want to kiss you.” he said. “so bad.” he whispered , his lips practically ghosting over yours. “so fucking mnph.” you closed the short gap between you two; you didn’t know what came over you; maybe it was the alcohol or the game , but you couldn’t hold back anymore. “shit.” he pulled away with a chuckle. “that was a real desperate kiss.” he teased. “almost like you’ve been waiting for it.”

“get up.” he said , moving to the couch. “come here.” he beckoned you over. “take these off.” he said. “you take them off.” you gathered all the confidence you could to say that; he smirked , sitting up from his manspreading position. “okay.” he pulled you closer towards his face , planting a kiss on your waist. he slowly undid the tie on your pants; he stared up at you as he pulled your pants down your legs. “such cute pants , but you’re wearing these slutty panties underneath.” he said , you bit your to contain a moan as he teasingly pulled back the elastic of your panties , letting it snap against your skin. “such pretty noises.” he pulled your panties down. “and an even prettier pussy.”

he pulled you down; you straddled his waist. “you showed me your favorite position right?.” his thumb on your clit , rubbing figure eights. “wo-wonbin.” you moaned , but he shh’d you. “we gotta be quiet,” he said. “can you be quiet?” you nodded. “good , now let me show you mine.” he held your waist , and he stood up lightly to pull his pants down just enough to free his cock. “fuck it’s so hard.” he groaned , his tip was red. “been feeling this way since i felt your little pussy throbbing for me earlier,” he said. “is that what you wanted?” he cock pressing against your hole. “for me to feel how desprare your pretty cunt was for her to be filled up.”

he guided you down on his cock; your cunt gripping him like a vice. “oh fuck.” he leaned back against the couch , head thrown back. “that’s it -fuck- work my cock.” you began to move your hips , grinding your hips back and forth. “won-wonbin fuck.” you grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself. you weren’t planning on going this far with him but here you were , both of you struggling to keep quiet as his cock dragged along your walls. “fuck baby , we gotta speed this up.” he groaned , his hair stuck to his forehead. “shit , let me take over.”

he grabbed your waist , bouncing you on his cock. “oh my god.” you gasped , your head falling in between his neck where you left the hickey. “mhm , fuck leave some more.” he moaned as you suck on his neck. “fuck , your little cunt feels so good.” the slapping noises drowning out the movie. “keep doing that.” you moaned against his skin , you felt so good bouncing on his dick. “fuck , wanna feel you cum around me.” he said. “you gonna cum for me?” he brought his fingers where you two were connected , rubbing circles. “m’gonna cum.”

“cum for me.” he pressed his lips against yours to swallow up your moans as you came around him. “oh fuck.” he pulled away. “fuck im gonna cum.” he said in a hushed tone. “sh-shit.” he lifted you off of him , his load shooting from his thick cock , covering your thighs; your body fell against his chest as you came down from your highs. “hey.” he whispered. “we gotta clean up.” he said. “let’s go to my room.” you said , you wanted more. “you want more?” he smirked , you nodded.

“well then you’re gonna explain to them in the morning , cause i don’t care how much noise you make , i wanna hear how good im fucking you.”

“how did you have a better night than we did?” isa said the next morning. “you two were at for 2 fucking hours , our couch yn on the couch we sit there.” chloe shrieked. “you two couldn’t make it to the room , you were on the floor when we left.” isa said. “it just happened , don’t blame me.” you threw your hands up in defense your phone buzzing , wonbins name popping up you smiled. “look at you , who’s fault is it then if not yours?” you shrugged , picking up your phone to answer.

“soju and drunk lovers game.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

i don’t know why i can’t take my eyes off of you

for @steddielovemonth day one using You and Me by Lifehouse

rated t | 1186 words | no cw | tags: future fic, second chances, mutual pining, idiots in love, songwriter Eddie, teacher Steve

🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒

Steve’s walking down the frozen section of Melvald’s when time stops.

Not literally. The watch on his wrist is still ticking. The clock on the wall at the front of the store is still moving. People around him are still grabbing their groceries.

But Eddie Munson is standing in front of the ice cream section like he belongs there.

Eddie left Hawkins five years ago.

He kissed Steve on the lips, then the forehead, and left.

Steve’s thought about it, about him, every day since.

Eddie hasn’t noticed him yet. Maybe Steve should leave before he does. Last he’d heard, Eddie was working at a recording studio as a songwriter, halfway making his dreams come true.

He’s happy, or at least that’s what all the kids have said when he’s brought up. They don’t know about the kiss, at least Steve doesn’t think they do. He’s never told them.

It’s busy enough in the store that Steve’s pretty sure he can sneak away before Eddie sees him. He starts to back away, but immediately bumps into an old woman.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He’s asking, and she’s brushing him off and saying she’s fine. He feels terrible.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice is like music, always has been a melody made specifically for Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve says as the old woman walks away. “Hey.”

Steve forgets he’s in public as the world around him fades and all he sees, smells, wants, is Eddie.

“I didn’t know you were still in Hawkins,” Eddie says quietly, leaning forward on his toes. He’s got a new battle vest, though it looks well-worn. Steve wonders if he knows that his old vest is hanging in his closet, if he knows that Steve pulls it out every once in a while so he can put it on and feel a little less alone.

“Yeah. Never left.” It sounds worse than it is. Steve always said he’d leave when all the kids left, but once they did, he didn’t know where to go. It’s not like he could follow them around, couch-surfing across the country a month or two at a time, burdening them with his self-imposed loneliness.

“You look good,” Eddie says, changing the subject.

Leaving Hawkins was a touchy subject for Steve the last time he’d seen Eddie. It still is. Eddie must sense that.

“So do you,” Steve breathes out. He does. He looks healthy and happy, something Hawkins had completely drained from him before. “What are you doing back?”

“Just visiting Wayne. Usually he comes to see me, but he insisted he didn’t wanna deal with the ‘big city’ this time. And I’m the best nephew, so I said ‘sure, old man, I’ll go back to the town that hates my guts!’ And here I am trying to find my favorite ice cream at the store. They don’t have it,” Eddie shrugs. He rambles when he’s nervous, still. “He hasn’t mentioned seeing you around or anything, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we don’t cross paths much,” Steve laughs awkwardly. He can’t remember the last time he saw Wayne. Must’ve been around Christmas, when Steve was helping Joyce with her decorations while Hopper worked overtime and Wayne stopped by to drop off some lights. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Stubborn as hell. Won’t retire even though he could,” Eddie shakes his head. “Think he’s scared of being bored.”

“Or lonely.”

The words escape Steve before he can hold them back.

Eddie’s face softens, but it’s not full of pity. Everyone always gives Steve this look, like they know he’s putting on a brave face. Not Eddie.

“Wayne’s always been content alone. He’s got friends, and he calls me when he has something new to argue about,” Eddie leans in closer. “I don’t really worry about Wayne. Other people, sure.”

“Like who?” Steve swallows.

“You settle down yet?” Eddie asks in response.

Steve’s so shocked by the question, he doesn’t answer.

“I figured the kids were just being nice by not telling me if you did, but you’re not wearing a ring and you’re grocery shopping alone, so…” Eddie rambles again. Steve feels his heart flutter in his chest.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you dating someone?”

Steve shakes his head. “Haven’t really found anyone interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when does Steve Harrington want someone interesting?”

Since the most interesting person he knows kissed him and then left. Since everyone else is boring in comparison to you. Since he realized he was dumb to let you go.

“I guess what I thought I wanted is different now. Has been for a while,” Steve shrugs.

It’s strange how easily Steve becomes wrapped up in Eddie’s orbit, how quickly everything else didn’t matter the moment Eddie started talking to him. It’s just the two of them.

“Excuse me,” a man says to their left. Steve jumps back and apologizes for blocking where he needed to be. Eddie’s eyes never leave Steve.

When the man walks away, Steve clears his throat.

“How long are you in town?”

“How long will it take me to convince you to come back with me?”

Steve chokes on his next breath. “What? Come back with you? To…”

“New York or Chicago. I’m getting a promotion and they’ll let me pick where I wanna go. I’ve been leaning towards Chicago because more of the music I enjoy is making a mark there,” Eddie explains. “And there’s plenty of options for you there, too. Dustin said you just finished your teaching degree.”

“Dustin talks about me?”

“Only when unprovoked,” Eddie grins. “Have you been waiting for me?”

It’s blunt, but Eddie always has been. Steve can hide a lot of emotions from people; It’s been a survival tactic for most of his life.

He’s never been able to hide shit from Eddie.

“Not on purpose.”

Eddie looks at his basket of items. He was really only here for a few things, but he saw his favorite cookies were on sale and he couldn’t resist stocking up. He looks between the basket and Eddie’s eyes.

“You wanna come to mine for dinner?”

“Is dinner cookies?” Eddie laughs, poking at the package closest to the top.

“That’s dessert,” Steve laughs, too. He finds it easy. He never thought it could be this easy after the time that’s passed, the distance they had between them.

“First dessert.”

“What are we, hobbits?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops open. “Steve, please. Not in public.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you read it!” Eddie groans, but he’s smiling, so Steve’s not actually worried.

“I’ve read a lot of things! I’ve been waiting for you, remember?”

An announcement starts in the store— someone’s car is blocking a delivery truck entrance— and they both take a step away from each other. They were much closer than they should be in the grocery store.

This is still Hawkins, and people already don’t like Eddie. Looking cozier than two dudes normally would might be dangerous for both of them.

“So. Dinner?” Steve asks again. It’s easier to remember there are other people around with some distance between them.

“Sure. Dinner.”

Time starts again.

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 5

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: Sex. Minors DNI. Also, barely proofread, sorry for any mistakes!

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 3.8k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: February 1, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Sorry it has taken me a while to get this part out. But I think you’ll like it. *fingers crossed* FULL TAGLIST TO FOLLOW. Sorry, I'm in a rush today. This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part 4.5 | Part Five | Masterlist

A fancy hotel takeout sits untouched on your kitchen counter, the smell of roasted garlic filling the small space. You glance at the clock—6:47 PM.

Yoongi promised to take you to dinner, but given the circumstances, a quiet night in felt more appropriate. Safer for him. After all, the media has been relentless since the Dispatch scandal dropped close to midnight like Cinderella’s kitten heel at the ball.

You’re kind of pissed, actually. Scratch that—you’re furious. Just when it felt like you finally had Yoongi—finally had the chance to explore whatever this was between you—this bullshit had to rear its ugly head. A photo of his kind of ex leaving his building was enough to set the internet on fire, and now it felt like the flames were creeping dangerously close to your life.

You’ve talked to him once today, and even that conversation was clipped. A text from him at 5 let you know he was about to leave HYBE and swing by his place first. “Be there by 7,” he’d said.

You stare at the pristine takeout containers, willing yourself not to spiral. You’re not that person anymore. You’re not the insecure girl who lets her emotions run wild over things she can’t control. You’ve done too much good work to let this unravel you.

“You’re fine. You’re fucking fine,” you mutter under your breath, pacing the kitchen.

Your phone vibrates on the counter. Namjoon. Always coming to your rescue at the right time.

“Hello?”

“You doin’ okay?” Namjoon asks, his voice calm but laced with concern.

“Define okay,” you quip, though your voice wavers slightly. “It’s been a lot.”

“I figured,” Namjoon says gently. “That’s why I’m calling. Just wanted to check in. Yoongi’s been swamped today, and I know how this stuff can mess with your head.”

You exhale slowly, grateful for the concern but also acutely aware of the simmering emotions just beneath the surface. “I’m trying, Joon. Really, I am. It’s just… exhausting. The waiting, the overthinking, the noise. I just want to know where I stand with him, you know?”

“He’ll tell you,” Namjoon assures you, his voice steady. “Just… don’t let the noise get to you.”

You swallow hard, his words striking a chord. “Thanks, Joon. Really.”

“Anytime,” he says warmly. “And hey, take it easy on him tonight, okay? He’s under a lot of pressure, but trust me, you’re his priority.”

“Will do, dad,” you tease, and for the first time all day, you feel a flicker of lightness.

“Bye.”

You set the phone down, Namjoon’s words lingering in your mind as you glance at the clock again. 

You think about Yoongi and the kind of pressure he must be feeling now. You can take care of him tonight. He deserves it.

You’re rearranging the pillows on the couch, trying not to glance at the clock again for the hundredth time. It’s not even about tidying the place anymore. It’s about occupying your hands, distracting yourself from the swirling mix of emotions in your chest.

Then, the doorbell rings.

7:01pm. 

You take a breath, smoothing your sweater. Calm. Casual. You’re fine.

You open the door.

And there he is. Yoongi stands in the dim light of the hallway, a dark jacket zipped up to his collarbone, a black mask shading his face, somehow directing the focus on the exhaustion in his eyes. But what caught your attention is his hair—slicked back with a little sprout of inky locks on top.

He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking bashful at the heat in your gaze.

Christ. He looks good. Criminally.

He steps in. “Hi,” he says softly, his voice carrying that calm rasp you’ve missed.

Your heart clenches. “Hi,” you reply, your tone quieter than intended. You clear your throat, stepping back to let him in. “Come in.”

He steps inside, pausing in the entryway as he glances around. 

You then notice the bouquet in his hand—gorgeous white roses and baby’s breath wrapped in brown paper. 

He hesitates, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes flick over your face. Something in your expression must’ve softened, because he quickly averts his gaze.

“I brought these,” he says, holding them out a little awkwardly.

Your chest tightens, a strange warmth spreading through you. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

When you reach out to take the bouquet, your fingers graze his, and the contact lingers for just a second too long. Impulsively, your free hand rises to cup his cheek. Maybe it’s too much for whatever the hell this is between you, but the moment feels too honest to stop yourself.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

Yoongi freezes under your touch, his dark eyes widening ever so slightly. Then, as if the tension in his shoulders breaks all at once, he leans into your palm, just a fraction, and the smallest, most heartbreaking smile tugs at his lips as his eyes flutter close.

“I am now.”

You head to the kitchen, busying yourself with a vase to give the flowers the best chance to survive. You do not have a green thumb, so you pray to the gods the beautiful arrangement does not wither overnight.

“Hungry?” you ask, not turning around. “I bought chicken, shrimp fried rice, and some random banchan.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Yoongi replies, his voice closer than you expect. You glance back to find him leaning against the counter, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You place the vase on the counter and fold your arms. “So,” you start, forcing lightness into your tone. “Survived the day?”

“Barely,” he admits, a tired smirk tugging at his lips. “Had to dodge more cameras than usual. Sat in meetings for a couple of hours. Si-hyuk personally called Sung Kyung’s agency. They assured me that they will investigate thoroughly. I couldn’t eat. I get home and there’s still press camping out. So yeah, shit day and I almost didn’t make it out alive.”

“That’s the longest response I’ve ever gotten from you.” You tease. “You really must be stressed out.”

Yoongi chuckles and for a moment, it feels like the tension that’s been hanging over you both all day melts away. 

You go around the counter and stand facing him where he’s sitting on your bar stool. He parts his legs and you immediately take that space, crowding him a bit more by placing your hands tentatively on his shoulder.

His eyes, warm like molten chocolate, meet yours. “How about you?”

You hesitate, suddenly feeling a little exposed. “I’m fine,” you say, though the tightness in your chest betrays you. “I mean, it’s not like this is new territory for you, right?”

“Doesn’t mean it’s easy,” Yoongi says quietly. “And I don’t like that you’re sort of affected by it.”

“I can handle it,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel, projecting strength since he looks a little broken right now.

Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line, like he’s not entirely convinced. 

“I kinda knew what I was getting into when I knocked in your studio yesterday,” you say softly. “And I’d do it again. For you.”

His eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across his face at your admission before it softens into something else. Something deeper. “For me?”

You nod, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Yeah. For you.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, like he’s trying to figure out what to say. Then he straightens up from his slouch, taking one of your hands from his shoulder, pressing his lips softly against your pulse point.

“Dinner first,” he says. 

“Then what?” you challenge.

Yoongi just grins, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

As you sip the last of your drink, you steel yourself to ask the question that’s been bugging you all day. “So,” you say finally, broaching the topic. “Sung Kyung.”

Yoongi pauses mid-bite, his eyes flicking to yours. He sets his chopsticks down carefully, leaning back in his chair. “What about her?”

You take a steadying breath, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “Namjoon told me you’re co-parenting. But I need to hear where you two… stand?”

Yoongi exhales slowly. “Yeah, we’re co-parenting. That’s it. I don’t have any intention of getting back together with her. At all.” His voice is calm but firm, leaving no room for doubt. “I want Haneul to know his biological mom, but she and I—we’re done. That’s been over.”

Relief washes over you, but before you can fully settle into it, you notice the shift in his expression. His jaw tightens, and his eyes dart briefly to the table before returning to yours.

“There’s something else,” he says quietly, the words heavy with hesitation.

Fuck. You don’t like the sound of it, but you ask anyway. “What is it?”

Yoongi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “A few weeks ago… she kissed me.”

Your stomach twists, and the room feels suddenly colder. “What?”

“I put a stop to it immediately,” he says quickly, his tone insistent. “I told her it couldn’t happen again, that if she wanted to keep seeing Han, she had to respect that boundary. And she has. She knows where we stand.”

You don’t respond right away, staring down at your plate as you try to process his words. 

Oh my god. This is so fucked up. You knew Sung Kyung’s reappearance wasn’t as harmless as it seemed, but hearing it confirmed still stings.

“I just thought…” you start, but the words trail off.

Yoongi’s voice is soft but steady. “You have every right to be upset.”

“Do I?” You think out loud. “We’re not…” You nod slowly, pushing your chair back. “I… need a minute.”

When you get to your bathroom, you release a long steadying breath. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, hands gripping the counter tightly. Fuck. You’re okay. This is–

A knock sounds at the door, startling you.

Yoongi’s voice is muffled as he says your name, but it’s gentle as can be. “Can I come in?”

You glance at the lock and realize, too late, that you forgot to turn it. The door creaks open, and there he is, standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and something softer.

He steps inside, closing the door behind him and his arms immediately slide around your waist. The warmth of his touch seeps into you, and you meet his gaze through the mirror.

“Hey,” he murmurs against your hair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You lean back against him, the tension in your shoulders easing but just slightly. “I just… I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“That’s fair,” he presses his lips to your temple. 

“But I need you to know–” presses another on your cheek.

“That I don’t want anyone else–” presses the last where your neck and shoulders meet. 

“Just you.”

Your heart clenches at the sincerity in his voice, and when your eyes meet again in the mirror, the tenderness there leaves you so breathless.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you turn in his arms, your hands sliding up to his face as you pull him down for a kiss. His fingers tighten on your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you flush against him.

You walk back to your bed, lips fused with his, your fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair. The urgency between you grows as you push him down onto the mattress, his back hitting the sheets with a quiet thud. You follow immediately, straddling him, your body molding against his as you capture his lips again. The kiss is deep, consuming, his hands gripping your waist like he’s anchoring himself to you.

You stay like that for a while, tongues teasing, breaths mingling, drunk in the taste of each other. Then, a sharp pull of his lower lip between your teeth has him groaning into your mouth.

You’re driven by lust, and something else. A possessive demon seems to be overriding your better judgment, thinking you’ve been timid with your feelings for long enough. No woman, not Sung Kyung, even if he is Han’s mom, can take what you and Yoongi have been building up to for so damn long.

“You’re in your head,” Yoongi says, nudging his nose against yours.

“Did she kiss you like this, huh?” The words leave you before you can stop them. Your lips return to his, sucking greedily, staking your claim.

Yoongi’s breath shudders as you pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “No, baby.” His voice is rough, lips pink and swollen.

Your fingers slide under his shirt, pushing the fabric up and over his head, tossing it aside before your hands explore the newly exposed skin. He’s warm, toned beneath your touch, and the way his muscles tense under your fingertips only spurs you further. You lean down, lips dragging along his jawline, open-mouthed kisses trailing down his throat. He tastes sweet, salty, and entirely intoxicating.

“Did you fuck anyone else when I left?” you mumble against his skin, your teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

His breath hitches, “No, shit. No.”

“Good boy.” You hum in satisfaction, your lips venturing lower, your tongue flicking against the hollow of his throat. He groans, head pressing back into the pillow.

“Baby, you’re making me lose my shit right now,” he grits out, his voice strained, desperate. His hands now get braver, sliding underneath your top to fondle your tits. 

Maybe you’re delirious. Maybe you’re too turned on to think straight. Or maybe—maybe this is exactly what you’ve wanted since the moment you saw him again.

Your hand drifts down, fingers tracing the outline of his hard length through his trousers, feeling the way he twitches under your palm. 

“You’re mine, okay?” you whisper, nipping at his bottom plush as your fingers give his dick a squeeze.

He exhales a shaky laugh, his lips curving under yours. “Yours.”

He lets you revel in your greed for a few moments, allowing you to do whatever you pleased as you lose yourself in the heat building between you.

He ruts up towards your hand, grunting slightly. Honestly, he’s so hard, it’d be a mercy to release him from the confines of his jeans. So you do, helping him unbutton, unzip, and undress, until his cock springs free and flops on his stomach.

What a pretty dick. Literally lickable—solid, girthy, veiny, a bead of white pooling at the slit. You take him in your mouth, tracing the tip with your tongue, the taste of pre-cum coating your throat. You let drool cascade down his length, slick fingers pumping his shaft while your mouth suctions his mushroom head.

His hand goes to the back of your neck, guiding you in a bit more. “Mmm… that’s it, baby.” 

Yoongi moans your name as you go faster. You feel him twitching inside your mouth. He’s so hard but you don’t want him to cum yet. You pop him off to lap at the base, before your tongue travels upward to trace the thick veins on the underside of his cock. 

Jaw slack, his eyes are dark, dark as he observes you while propped up on his elbows. “Come up,” he says when you reluctantly pull away. “Wanna eat you out.”

Your clothes are yanked off your body as you take his place on the cushions, not a single piece of fabric now separating your skin. He takes you by the hip and adjusts your position so he can get his face close to your mound. Before you can mentally prepare yourself, he shoves his hot tongue against your folds, locating your clit in 0.001 seconds and you know you’ll be careening off a cliff in no time.

“I—Yoongi, that’s… shit that’s nice.” You can’t help it. It does feel nice.

You reach for the little ponytail on his head, gripping it for dear life. He hums against your bud when you pull, the vibrations only driving you more insane.

“You taste so good baby,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?”

“I can eat you out for days, make you cum,” he vows, delirious just like you are. “Over and over… my favorite fuckin’ snack.” 

“Oh my god, Yoongi…”

He feasts, and feasts, and soon enough, you’re shuddering in ecstasy, hips bucking in the process, as he slurps all you give him. He wears your cum like a gloss as he comes up for air, a lazy but proud smile on his face.

You reach for the drawer on your nightstand and pull out a new, sealed, and unopened box of condoms shoving it on his chest. He holds it in one hand, nose scrunching as he suppresses a laugh.

“Someone prepared…”

You shrug as he plucks one and unwraps it quickly, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re too cute for me.”

“Shut uppp.”

He rolls the condom on his dick, propping one hand by the side of your face as he uses the other to rub his blunt tip against your entrance. Your pussy is drenched and he slips right in and bottoms out with a grunt against your ear. He’s thick and big against your walls.

A smack against your ass cheeks makes you clench. “Ah, shit.” And another one lands before he soothes it with a gentle massage. 

You’re going crazy but you need him deeper. Sensing your needs, Yoongi pushes the back of your knees higher and snaps his hips with more force, pounding your pussy as your bed creaks against the wall. Your lids are heavy but you keep your eyes open long enough to see how fucked out he looks, cheeks flushed pink with a coat of sheen on his forehead, teeth caging his lower lip.

“You’re so hot. I wanna ride you,” you declare, stuttering a bit from his thrusts.

“Yeah?” He pants, slows the roll of his hips, waiting for your confirmation. 

When you nod, he slips off with a wince and you feel your juices trickle down your skin. You reverse positions, mattress dipping as you shift your knees on each side of his hips. 

“Do your thing, baby,” he urges, lacing his fingers behind his head, elbows bent outward in a relaxed pose.

Your smile is watery as you use his tip to prod against your clit one or twice before you sink him inside your wet heat. You moan in unison when you're fully seated, the feeling of him snug and warm and so full inside you driving you mad.

You tip your head back, palms planted against his chest as you swivel your hips in a slow dance. 

You look down on him, hair cascading over your shoulder, and you think how much you like this view. And how you won't mind this view everyday, actually. Seems the possessive streak from earlier still has not satiated. 

“Shit—you’re so hot like this.” 

You rock against him, clit stimulated deliciously as you ride his cock. He’s got a cocky little grin as you use him. You throw your ass back, and he has a front row seat and VIP access to your bouncing tits, his tongue slack on the side of his lips. He cups your tits with both hands, the wet pads of his thumbs rubbing against your nipples.

“My turn,” he grabs hold of your waist and thrusts upward so roughly your eyes roll back in pleasure.

He pistons into you, finger digging on your skin to keep you in place and a long moan rips from your throat when he jerks up particularly hard.

Your hands slip to his shoulder as your body bounces by the force of his movements, tits sliding against his chest. His thighs must be burning and when he slightly lets up, you dip your head, shamelessly to lick the side of his face, moaning his name against his ear. 

“Baby—” you beg, not really saying what you need, but he knows.

He uses a sweaty hand to guide a tit in his mouth, suckling at it with a bit of teeth. 

Not a moment later, he’s fucking you again from below, deeper, faster, and when rapidly presses into your sweet spot, you’re a goner.

“I’m close, Yoongi. So close…”

“Me too, baby,” his voice is rough as he lets go of your bruised nipple, brows furrowed in concentration like he is fully intent to give you the orgasm of your life. He pushes into your depth relentlessly, 

White hot heat is blooming inside you, and you feel his cock throb, abs tightening, before he spills his seed in the condom, groaning with his eyes shut to savor the intensity of his release. It’s the pure unadulterated pleasure painted on his face and his deep delicious moan that tips you over the edge, too, clenching against his solidness as you slip into the sinful pleasure of your orgasm.

Chest to chest, you rest your full weight against him, softening dick still nestled inside you. You press your lips against his neck, feeling the vibrations of his throaty chuckle. Then he asks, “Was it good?”

“So good.”

“Mm.” He hums, nosing the side of your face so you’d look at him. “Did you really mean what you said earlier?”

“Which one?”

“That you, uh, despite everything, you’d do it again, for me.”

You start to feel a bit shy, but then you remember you’re literally naked. On top of him. And he is still inside you. The point of bashfulness is long past. It’s time for the truth. “Yeah.”

“Bold of you, no?”

“Dumb, too.”

He pushes an errant hair behind your ear, eyes still glazed from the sex, but fond. “You know I really like you, right? If it isn’t painfully obvious.”

“Me too, Yoongi. Since Stan. Maybe even earlier.”

“Will you be my girl, then?”

Yoongi watches you carefully, waiting for your response. The earnest curve of his lips, the slight scrunch of his nose, the way his fingers still rest on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away—it’s all so achingly real.

You study him for a moment, letting yourself take it in. Everything about him—his caring nature, his tenderness, his immense love for Han, his ability to drive you absolutely insane and still make you feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

The outside world is still in chaos. The scandal, the noise, the questions that neither of you have all the answers to yet. But here, in your little apartment, wrapped in the warmth of him, none of that feels as important as this.

“I will,” you finally say, voice steady.

His breath catches, just for a second. Then, his lips spread into the softest, gummiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, almost like he’s making sure he heard you right.

You nod, “Yeah.”

Your lips meet for a gentle kiss that feels like a promise and the rest of the world falls away. For now, no matter what comes next, it’s the two of you—finally honest, finally sure, and finally together.

:]

A/N: YASSSS. Our babies have finally figured it out. How do you feel right now? Would love to hear your comments! 

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! Xo

P.S. Am gunning for 1,000 followers before Yoongi’s birthday. :) I think I’ll get there with your help. Feel free to reblog the story if you like, and that can help more people find our lovely L&L couple.

Love you!~

Permanent Taglist (Part 1)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

The rest to follow in a reblog.

[dreamwavesexploringreality]

PERFECT:

Requested: Chishiya x Reader who is insecure about stretch marks.

--

"Kuina is asking for you," Chishiya said as he entered the room, closing the door behind him and remaining standing with his hands in his pockets.

"Ah, right. We were supposed to go to the pool, but I’m not feeling very well," the girl replied, lying on the bed and covering her eyes with her forearm.

Chishiya didn’t respond. The girl heard his footsteps approaching the bed and felt his presence towering over her. After a few moments of silence, the man finally spoke.

"What’s wrong?" His voice was dry and sharp, almost bored, but Y/N could discern a slight hint of concern in it. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

"Nothing, I just… I’m tired," she answered, turning over to give him her back, pulling the thin white silk sheet further up her body.

Chishiya stood there, watching her in silence. The semi-transparent sheet clung to her skin, accentuating the shape of her body. Her black bikini stood out underneath.

"She insisted a lot," he said. "I think she’s obsessed with you. She said she’d drag you out of the room if you’re not at the pool in five minutes."

The man watched as the woman squirmed, groaning in frustration.

"Fine. Leave." she replied, sitting up on the bed and pulling the sheet even closer around her body.

Chishiya raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Leave?"

The woman only groaned in response, waving her hand to shoo him out of the room.

"Why?" he asked, confused, with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I need to change," she said, finally turning to face her boyfriend.

He stared at her for a few seconds, doubt still etched on his face.

"And I have to leave for that?"

The girl let out an exasperated sigh.

"I don’t want you to see me."

Chishiya felt like he had lost track of the conversation—something extremely rare for him. And irritating. Very irritating.

"You don’t want me to see you?" he repeated, making sure he had heard correctly.

"Yes, I don’t want you to see."

She rolled over again, turning her back to him.

That was when an alarm went off in the white-haired man’s head.

"What is it that you don’t want me to see?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning toward her figure under the sheets.

Y/N responded with muffled sounds against the pillow.

"What?" he insisted.

Y/N sighed again and turned to face her boyfriend, her gaze fierce and visibly frustrated.

"I don’t want you to see my body."

Chishiya’s brain went blank for a few seconds.

"What?" he repeated once more. His cold, distant stare contrasted with the fire burning inside him, fueled by doubt, uncertainty, and confusion.

The girl huffed one last time before getting up from the bed, wrapping the thin fabric around herself. She locked herself in the bathroom with a soft click that echoed in Chishiya’s ears like the most irritating sound he had ever heard.

"Y/N." His voice came out neutral, emotionless.

"I won’t take long," she replied from behind the door.

And she didn’t. In less than three minutes, the girl emerged from the small space, now wearing a bikini with a towel draped over her arm.

"What was wrong with the other one?" the man asked after a few seconds of observing her intently.

"What?"

Chishiya nodded toward the black swimsuit lying on the bathroom floor.

"Oh. I didn’t like it," she replied.

Like pieces of a puzzle, Chishiya added this new information to his mind. It still didn’t fit.

A knock on the door interrupted the moment.

"Y/N! I swear I’ll drag you out if you don’t come out right now!"

"Kuina," the man thought.

He watched as Y/N walked to the door, opening it and greeting Kuina with a brief hug, her back now turned to him. Chishiya took the opportunity to admire his girlfriend’s new bikini a little longer. It was undeniably different from the previous one. The fabric hugged her hips, covering more skin than the last, but what really struck him was the style. It wasn’t a piece of clothing that suited Y/N’s style.

He watched as the two women walked away, leaving him behind. Under any other circumstances, he would have stayed in the room, away from all the noise and chaos of the pool. But that day, something was off. He didn’t know what, but he was going to find out. He followed them, keeping a safe distance, giving them space.

When they reached the pool area, the noise was instant. Chishiya noticed Y/N subtly shrinking, growing smaller before his eyes. He even caught the way she crossed her arms slightly over her stomach. The puzzle pieces were starting to come together.

From a distance, he kept his eyes on the two women as they settled on a surprisingly empty lounge chair. He watched Kuina lay out her towel and lie down, motioning for Y/N to join her. He saw Y/N shake her head softly, instead perching on the edge of the recliner, crossing her legs and carefully draping her towel over her lap, letting it fall conveniently over her hips.

He sighed.

He observed them for a few more minutes, deciphering the pattern. And when the answer finally lit up in his mind, he decided to act.

Chishiya had never been good with words—he said what needed to be said, with no sugarcoating. So he had to bite his tongue as he approached the two girls and saw Y/N grip her towel a little tighter.

"Come with me," he said, hands still in his pockets, casual as ever.

Kuina lifted her head, lowering her sunglasses with an exaggerated expression of surprise.

"Go, go, go, go!" she cheered, nudging Y/N encouragingly.

Kuina was the only person on The Beach—hell, in all of Borderlands—who knew about their relationship. And she loved to exaggerate moments like these. Chishiya mentally thanked her countless times a day for bringing a little enthusiasm into their dynamic—something he didn’t know how to do. He’d be embarrassed to admit that more than half of the so-called romantic ideas he executed came from Kuina’s vivid imagination.

Y/N sighed and stood up, tying the towel tightly around her hips. She followed him as he led her toward the hotel’s interior.

"What is it? I was having a great time," she confronted him when Chishiya finally stopped in a dimly lit corner of the empty main hall.

"Were you?" he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze was dark. Predatory. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine.

"What are you talking about?"

Chishiya locked eyes with her for a moment before nodding pointedly at the towel around her waist.

Involuntarily, Y/N crossed her arms over her stomach.

Chishiya let out a mocking chuckle—one he immediately regretted when she lowered her gaze to the floor. Yes, he was upset—very upset. But not with her. Well, maybe a little. But he had to play his cards right, or this could spiral out of control.

"You were uncomfortable," he said, this time in a softer tone, one that made her look up again. "Insecure, I’d say."

He saw her swallow hard before lowering her head once more. With a sigh, he pushed off the wall and placed a finger under her chin, gently lifting her face.

"Tell my girlfriend…" he began, using his other hand to undo the knot in her towel. "That she’s perfect…" He let the towel fall to her feet. "And that she better not dare think otherwise."

He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her closer.

Y/N instinctively grabbed his wrists, trying to pull them away so he wouldn’t feel the roughness of her skin—evidence of the stretch marks on her body. It was futile. He simply started tracing slow, soothing circles over her skin.

Noticing her relax slightly, Chishiya smirked, tightening his grip around her waist and pulling her impossibly closer. She hesitated before sliding her arms around his neck.

"You’re perfect," he whispered, lips barely brushing hers.

He watched in amusement as her cheeks turned bright red, her gaze darting away. He gently shook her, forcing her to meet his eyes once more.

"Don’t ever forget it," he murmured—low, almost threatening—before sealing his words with a deep kiss where doubt, uncertainty, and insecurity faded into the background, overpowered by the taste of unconditional love and adoration.

© 2025 [@dreamwavesexploringreality]

---

I had so much fun writing this! Thank you so much for reading, any feedback is always appreciated🌟.

[greeniegaes]

Shen Yuan being a wandering cultivator stopping by at Shen Jiu’s place for a while, taking care of the bamboo house so he can stay there and he cooks and shit. Yue Qingyuan stops by to deliver SJ dinner one day and SY guides him to sit down, feeding him and talking sweetly and SJ is just hard glaring.

YQY: I’m happy you’ve found something SJ will willingly eat

SY: I know, I know, I love taking care of people and i like cooking

YQY: it’s very good! I understand his liking of it

SY: it’s a shame about the quality of his ingredients, I would get more but I forgot my coin purse

YQY, already emptying his wallet: here; make sure he eats well

SJ glares at YQY as he gets up and leaves with a happy expression, going to snap at SY and just sees his too proud expression before it drops

SY: you uh… don’t care I just emotionally extorted him in front of you, right

SJ, suddenly not so mad as he sees the man instantly shift back to normal: he’s stupid anyways, it’s fine

SY: :D

And this becomes a common occurrence of SY conning YQY out of money, to the point SY can just grab his sleeve and tug on it before he gets a wallet in his hands (YQY just wants to support SJs interests, even if that interest is SY)

[godmadeaterribleerror]

No More

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, so much angst, hurt/comfort, small fluff at the end, pre-established relationship, past abusive/toxic relationship, soft Dean

Summary/Warnings: Some scars don't really fade. They just fester and rot, remaining unattended in your body because you can't really remember how to heal them.

And Dean can't fix this for you. But he can give you somewhere safe to fix yourself.

Author's Note: Request from an anon! This one's heavy guys. If you think that past abusive relationships might be a no go for you, make the right choice for yourself <3. If not, enjoy (?) the story.

Word Count: 4k

It had been a good hunt. An objectively good hunt. Done in two days, no bodies to burn or bury, an alright bar in the town, and Sam managing to get his own room because he’s sick of you trying to bang Dean in front of him.

“Hey, don’t blame my girl for how you’re always sticking your ass in our business-“

“We share a room, Dean!” Sam had said, half-throwing his hands in the air. “Where else am I supposed to stick my ass if not in our communal living space-“

Dean had snorted. “Communal living space? Dude, you sound like such a jackass-“

“Why, because I can use big words like space?”

“I- Watch it, Sammy-“

“I’ll watch it if you stop trying to fuck on my bed!”

They’d kept arguing. You’d remained silent, picking at the wood of the table and wondering if—should you actually attempt to—you could sink into Dean’s chest and just stay there for a while. It would be warm and solid, and probably not all that safe—that man got himself stabbed and shot a lot—but safer than being in you. Then your traitorous and useless body, made only to be snapped in half. It must have something written on it or in it, emit some kind of blacklight or stench that said weak. Dumb, weak little bitch, lucky to have this because you don’t deserve it. Couldn’t deserve it.

Better, you could turn to stone, right here in the booth. If you could do that, you’d never get another bruise on your throat or hear venomous words spat in your ear. Sam and Dean could leave you behind and never have to feel any guilt. Dean could stop having to pretend he likes you as more than a body, and pull away without beating himself up about abandoning you like a used and worn couch. 

Moth-eaten and stained, only still in the house because it feels wrong to throw it out. Because you have a little sentimentality for the couch when it was nice, before it had been beaten and abused and reduced to just a lumpen sack of feathers and cloth.

You don’t think that comparison is fair to the couch. 

At least the couch was once useful.

Because it had been a good hunt.

You were the problem.

You’d slipped and wavered and fallen. But the whole place had smelled like lavender soap, and it had carried you back to where that same smell had suffocated you. He had loved that smell, and said it made you seem prettier and softer than you were. 

This whole case had reeked of him. And you’d told yourself you’d be fine. That it was in the past, and he wasn’t supposed to have that kind of control over you anymore. That the world seems gray in that vamp nest, but it was winter, so that was to be expected. And when you’d been knocked flat on your back, you’d seen a crack in the ceiling—identical to the one that had been over his bed—but had been a coincidence. Ceilings cracked, and there were only so many patterns in the world.

And when a Vamp had wrapped its hand around your throat, that was just something that happened to hunters. You all got hurt and beaten and had close calls. That was the job. You’d faced worse than this. You’d faced blood coating your fingers and splattered on your face, guts pooling at your feet and long moments where you’d been sure no one would come and save you.

Dean had always saved you. Even before you’d started doing more—and then more and more and more, until it seemed pretty obvious you were dating and it was more exhausting to fight it than accept it—Dean had always been saving you. He’d had to do it today, yanking the Mare off your chest and cradling your head against his chest until you were breathing easily. 

Yet again, you’d been the problem. The hunt had been easy and simple, and you’d still fucked it because you sucked. You were dead-weight. You couldn’t stop feeling the hand around your throat—imprinted like a tattoo that made your words small and body smaller—and you couldn’t stop the weighed down feeling of hopelessness. Your brain stuck on a scratching loop around the Vamp’s hiss of dumb, annoying, weak little bitch, until you couldn’t manage to smile at anything at all.

It just made you feel worse, because Dean might be worried you don’t think he’s being funny. That whenever he makes truly horrible joke and you don’t giggle like a lovesick schoolgirl, it’s because he’s gone wrong.

He’s done nothing. You really hope he just gives up and tosses you aside, because he shouldn’t have to put up with worry about something so valueless. He��d find someone else. Someone better and more deserving. You’re just lucky he ever even looked at you, let alone bothered to try and stay. To try and be the hero that keeps rescuing the princess, even when the princess is just a peasant who can put on a show.

You’d tricked him into thinking you’re better than you are. Lied to him until you’d trapped him, and now he had to stay with you, because he’s a good man and you’re simply the fucking worst thing in the world to darken his path, and he’ll leave if he really saw you-

That’s not fair to Dean. He is a good man. Better than he was, by miles and stretches and eons, but that really just made it hurt more. Because Dean’s not him, but you’re still you. The same you who was weak, and stupid, and undeserving. That doesn’t change. It only grows now that you have someone you really don’t deserve. Someone who glows in the low light of the night, laughs in a way that fills the bar with life, and always touches you like he’d like to keep you.

You aren’t something that should be kept. But he’s doing it anyway.

And there’s some bile in your throat at the thought. And that’s just another way in which this—in which you—are horrible.

But the worst part was that things like this happened all the time, and you still weren’t strong enough to build an immunity. To just move on, like a big girl. To actually teach yourself that he was in the past, and this you—now, in the present, sitting with your smoking hot boyfriend’s arm around your shoulders—didn’t have any right to be afraid anymore.

“Are you feeling okay?” 

You blink at Dean as he guides you out of the bar, Sam walking a few feet ahead and the wind of the night is so cold-

Dean says your name, his brow furrowing in the way it does when he’s worried, and you give him your best, softest, most docile smile.

“Everything’s fine.” You say, and you can almost believe yourself. Your voice is gentle and small and doesn’t sound like you, but it’s the best way to end the questions. You’ll fold over. You’ll bend until you snap. And nobody needs to push you for that to happen. 

But Dean’s still frowning. “Are you sure? ‘Cause if you’re feeling well we can head back to the bunker tonight, and Sam won’t have to get his own room-“

“No, Dean, I’m-“

“Yeah, no, Dean.” Sam turns, shooting his brother a glare. “How would I get home?”

“You’re smart, Sammy, you’d figure it out-“

You tune out the rest of their fake-argument. You’re mostly listening to the wind. It’s loud, and strong, and cold. So cold, biting at your skin and making your joints stiff, but at least you can feel it. It’s not numbing, and it’s indifferent, and Sam and Dean don’t seem half as affected by it as you are, but they’re also not weak-

“C’mon,” Dean says your name, and you realize you’re moving again. That he’s guiding you into the shotgun seat, and a grumpy looking Sam is clambering into the back.

“Wait, why-“

“We’re dropping Sam off, then heading back.” Dean turns the engine on, his voice barely raising to match the rumble, and you’re not sure you heard him right.

“Why- I don’t-“

“I wanna go home.” Dean shrugs, and it’s too casual. “And Sammy’s a big boy, he’ll be fine without Mommy and Daddy watching him.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, built by Sam’s groan from behind you, and you can’t stop the words from slipping out. “I told you to stop calling us that.”

“Yeah, but you also told me that you were-“ Dean cuts himself off, shaking his head slightly and clearing his throat. “That you weren’t into car sex, and that ain’t ever stopped us-“

You cover his mouth with a hand—his shit-eating grin just as blinding in only his eyes—and Sam makes a fake gagging sound.

And you think Dean knows. That he’s realized that you’re just so tired and weak and useless, and he’s trying to work out if it’s worth keeping you around. If you’ll listen to him and do what he asks—and you will, you always will, not because of the threat of being left but because he’s Dean and he couldn’t lead you astray if he tried—or if he needs to leave you on the pavement to scrape yourself back together.

So you don’t fight him, or insist that Sam can have his privacy and sanity without getting another room or you and Dean leaving, because you don’t really want to be touched like that right now. You just drop Sam off at the motel, grab your bags, and slump back into the Impala’s bench as Sam and Dean exchange low words outside.

By the time Dean joins you, you’re half asleep. And you try to stay awake—to entertain him half as much as he entertains you—but he pulls you right into his side, lets your head rest on his shoulder, and Dean doesn’t smell like lavender. He smells like evergreen and apples, he’s warm when your ears are still a little numb from the cold, and when he starts to hum along to the low music, you’re gone. Everything fades, and it’s just the deep sound of Dean’s voice like a lullaby and a big, firm hand on your thigh that isn’t going to leave a bruise.

Maybe you don’t deserve a bruise. 

Maybe you don’t deserve anything. Maybe you’re lucky to be stuck in this bed with stinging marks around your throat, and a voice like nails on your ears sneering that you’re a weak little bitch. If you were stronger you’d fight back, but you’ve been broken in and can’t be put back together. If you were stronger, you’d scream for help, but you’re also so horribly you that you know nobody will ever come and save you.

Who would try to save you? Who could possibly care about something like you enough to bother and patch up you up, to take string to your skin and heart and organs and tie them back together? You’re not strong enough to make anything stick. You’re made of glass and linen, and any attempt to put you back together would be futile, because you’d probably just break further. Someone would have to be patient enough to pull you back together when you spooled apart, and warm enough to fuse and meld you in a way that wouldn’t shatter with one touch.

You don’t think a person like that would be real. And if they are, they wouldn’t want you.

Because they’d be strong, and you really are weak.

If you were strong, you would’ve left. But you’re still here in this freezing cold bed, staring at the crack on the ceiling.

And you don’t think you’ll ever be more than that. Not as another hand wraps around your throat—you don’t remember what you said, but you must have said something—and there’s a heavy weight on your chest and you can’t breathe-

“Breathe.” A deep voice that sounds like it cares says your name, and you listen. “It’s okay, you’re okay, just breathe for me.”

For him. There’s a hand on your head that’s combing through your hair and pressing you into a place that warm and solid and safe. You’re held steady by an arm around your waist, and it fits so well there. You don’t think it could hurt you if it tried.

He’d sounds kind and caring, and he’d said your name like you mattered, so you’ll try to breathe.

And you don’t remember how to do it for yourself yet, so—just for now, until you can teach yourself to do anything for you—you’ll breathe for him.

“There you go, baby,” the voice mutters, and when you make a weak, choked sound his body tenses, but he doesn’t push you away. “I know, but I’ve got you. Swear I’ve got you.”

He says he’s got you. Dean says he’sgot you.

And you believe him.

So you start to cry.

He’d never liked it when you cried. He’d said it was useless, and that the sound was annoying.

Dean just keeps holding you, and muttering soothing words in your ear until the tears stop flowing. He only keeps rubbing a circle on your back until your breathing slows, and you can lean back to meet his gaze.

He’s not angry. Just worried. 

You’re going to start crying again.

“Are,” you sniff, trying to pull yourself back together by force, and look around the dark space. “Are we still in the car?”

“Pulled over earlier.” He mutters, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone with a care you don’t deserve. “You started doing that tossing shit when you’re about to have a nightmare. Wanted to get ahead of it.”

You swallow. You’d made him pull over, and you had enough nightmares that he knew what one looked like, and you were just a burden and problem and he should just shove you out of the Impala and leave you to rot like carrion on the highway-

“Stop doin’ that.” Dean grunts, and you tense.

“I- I’m not-“

“You’re freakin’ out. You’re freakin’ me out.” Dean scans over your face, pulling you close until you’re half on his lap. “If you’re hurt, you know you gotta tell me, sweetheart. I’m not looking to do a zombie bite thing, where we get home and you start bleeding all over the floor. So tell me.” He takes a deep breath, and his exhale is warm over your lips. “Please tell me.”

You can’t tell him. You’re not ready for him to leave yet.

You drop your brow to Dean’s, taking low, slow breaths and shaking your head. “It’s okay-“

“It’s fucking not.” He snaps your name, his grip tightening slightly, and you flinch. “I- shit- did I hurt you-“

“No.” You mumble. “I’m just tired-“

“You’ve been sleeping for five hours. You’ll get another seven once we get goin’ again. But,” Dean narrows his eyes, even as his grip loosens once more. “We’re not getting back on the road until you answer me. What’s wrong.”

“I-“ You cut yourself off with a choked sound. He’s angry. You’d made him angry, and he won’t hurt you but if he did you’d deserve it-

You start crying again, and Dean’s eyes widen. This is it. He’s going to push you out the window and you’ll have to wander through the marshes until the mud just swallows you whole-

Dean pulls you fully into his lap, holding you there carefully and muttering in your ear with a care and reverence you don’t deserve.

“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry, fuck, please don’t cry-“

“No, it’s- I’m-“ You take a long, strangled breath, wrapping your arms around his torso until you’re sure you’re going to suffocate him. “It’s not you, Dean, I- It’s not your problem-“

“Fucking hell it’s not my problem.”

You shake your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Maybe you really could move in there, and nothing would ever hurt you again. “It’s- You don’t have to-“

“I do.” He mutters, guiding your head back to meet his gaze. He brushes the tears from your eyes. You don’t deserve this. “You’re hurtin’.”

It’s not a question, but you nod anyways. Holding a lie too long has never done you a favor before.

“Tell me how to fix it.”

“You- you can’t fix this,” you mumble, staring at the bridge of his nose. You aren’t worthy of looking him in the eyes. “It’s, it’s just me, Dean. I’m just like this.”

He frowns. “Like what?”

“Weak.” You whisper. “I- I risked the hunt, I always risk the hunt, and I’m not strong like you and Sam are, and I just wanna go home-“

“We’re going home, babygirl.” Dean’s voice is soft, and low, and cautious, and you let out another sob that shakes your whole body. “And you’re not weak, you ganked like three vamps-“

“Could’ve done more.”

“There were seven of them. Three is pretty awesome numbers.” He gives you a nervous small smile. “You’re awesome. I don’t know who’s been telling you otherwise, but you are.”

That’s what breaks you. The floodgates don’t open—they’d barely held anything to begin with—but something snaps along your spine, and you can’t stop the horrible, rotten truth from falling out of your mouth. 

“But he was right.” You whisper. “I’m weak, Dean, and I don’t know why you can’t see it.”

“There’s nothing to see, and I- Who’s he?”

You wish that you’d slept better. If you had, your tongue wouldn’t be loosened with pure exhaustion, and you could lie.

But you’re so tired. Unbelievably tired. Mind-numbingly and persistently tired, all the time, and it’s grow so intolerable you just want to be anything else. And if what you are is weak and alone, at least you’ll know that’s where you're supposed to be. 

And you’d never wanted Dean to know. He was never supposed to learn from your own mouth how foul you are. He was supposed to find out himself, and then leave you like everyone always has the right to do.

But you’re telling him that you’re weak and fearful, that you’d never been able to fight tooth and spit and leave. You waited so, so long to leave and even then, it had only been because he’d been gone for a while, and you were so tired, and you needed to be anywhere but there. 

And you stepped out, and never gone back.

There’s not going back now either. It all spills out, from how you met him to the day you left. And Dean’s so quiet. Only watching you as you speak and squeezing his hold on your hips when you trail off or cry.

But he doesn’t kick you out. And when you finished, you’re still in his lap. You can’t read the expression on his face. The highway lights are dim, and there’s nothing obviously hateful or disgusted written over his features, but you might just be too stupid to see it-

“I’m-“ Dean clears his throat, his voice hoarse. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You blink at him, the tears still blurring your vision. “What.”

“That’s- I didn’t know, I never even fucking guessed- I should’ve guessed-“

“How would you have guessed?” You whisper, risking a drop of your brow back to his. He lets you stay. “I never told you-“

“But I know you. I should’ve seen it, you- I should’ve made you feel like you could tell me, I-“ His face hardens in his second, his grip tightening, but not to suffocated you. To protect you. To wrap his whole body around yours and keep it there safely. “I should fucking kill him. Cut off his arms and stuff them up his ass, get Cas to put the fear of god in him-“

“Dean, no-“

“He doesn’t just get to fucking do that to you and keep walking around-“

“He shouldn’t.” You mumble. “But he did. Men do all the time. And, I- I’m sorry I didn’t tell you-“

“Don’t apologize.” He grunts, dragging his thumb over your cheekbone. “You’ve never done anything wrong, baby, it’s just that son of a bitch, who’s gonna get a knock on his door soon-“

“No knocking on doors,” you wrap your arms around his neck, shaking your head against his brow. “Please, Dean, that’s- that’s not what I want-“

“What do you want?”

His question is immediate, and it crashes into you like a tidal wave. Numbing your whole body and kickstarting it in the same second, because you don’t know. You haven’t really known, haven’t had a direction, in years. You wandered and wandered and just tried to keep on breathing, to keep on your feet,  and never let yourself look back. 

You’d never been good at that last part. You kept on breathing because you didn’t have a choice. You’d kept on your feet because if you faltered, you’d fall over and it would be so painful to get back up. 

But you’d always looked back. On nights like this one, over and over and over until your eyes were sunken and your neck was craned to always make sure nothing was behind you. 

It might be nice to rest. To breathe not because it’s a labor, but because it feels nice to breathe the same air as Dean. 

It would be amazing to keep looking back—it’s a habit, and it will die a slow and withering death until it’s gone, and you never pinpoint the moment you lost it—but to also start looking forward. Looking for that place to rest, that you already seem to have found.

What do you want?

“I want some food.” You whisper, leaning back to scan over Dean’s face. “And a nap. Please.”

Dean gives you a small grin, and nods. “I think we can do that. And after, you’ll give me an address-“

“Please don’t kill him, Dean.” You drop your voice slightly, holding his gaze. “I just want to stay with you, and to never see him again. Please.”

Two more wants. You’re on a roll. 

“Just me?” Dean asks, and you don’t he believes you.

But it really is the truth.

“Just you.” You say, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, and humming when he grins against them.

“Lucky you,” he mutters your name against your lips, squeezing his arms around you “I think I know a dude who can swing that.”

You let out a soft giggle—barely a breath, but there—Dean squeezes his arms again, and you really like how he does that. It’s not because he’s trying to remind you where you belong, it’s because he trying to check that you’re there. Like he’s just as afraid that you’ll flee as you are that he’ll shove you aside, and he’s trying to hold you together with everything he has before you slip away.

“You’re really cheesy,” you say, and he chuckles.

“You like it. We start drivin’ again, you think you’ll be able to get some sleep?”

“Yeah, but food-“

“We’re only a few hours out from home.” Dean shrugs, really making no attempt to move you from his lap. “I’ll order whatever you’re feeling when we get back.”

You pause, playing with the hairs on the back of his neck as you think. “How about pizza?”

“Who’s cheesy now-“

You lean back to give him a mock glower. “Dean Winchester.”

“What did you not like that one-“

“It was horrible-“

“That’s not a no-“ 

You cut him off with a long, soft kiss, and you like it here. Wherever Dean is, you’ll like it there.

“Can we please get pizza?” You mumble, and he nods. It’s such a small, normal movement. 

It makes you feel a little more found.

“We can get anything you want, princess.”

End Note: Oof that was a sad one. Sorry squad.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 4

I may have girl bossed a bit too close to the sun and finished Chapter 5 and 6 too- I'm not quite happy with those so I'll go through them again before posting Ch5 😅

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 4 >>next

Well, we all knew they would never have time for you. They never do until it’s too late. That’s why funerals are for the living to say goodbye, to mourn, to let go of the guilt. It still hurt… It hurt so much to be brushed off by Alfred, to be ignored by Bruce, to be yelled at by Dick. You couldn’t even think of Jason without tearing up, and Tim was just straight-up mean. But at least he was honest. Cassandra and Barbara’s avoidance hurt the most since they were your only female interaction in years.

Everything you tried to do to prove yourself was, at best, ignored, at worst, compared to someone else and diminished. You had nothing in common with Richard besides knowing a few of the same bands. But that wasn’t enough to raise his interest in interacting with you. Every time he looked at you it was like he was angry and sad at the same time.

Jason and you were so similar. Finally, someone you could relate to, who knew how life on the streets was, how terrifying the big space of the Wayne residence was compared to the lives you once had. And yet he was more interested in Dick, no matter how rude the oldest boy was. You couldn’t blame him, you also wanted Richard’s attention. Your heart felt like it was rolled through needles and lemon juice when Jason got everything you wanted just for you to watch him get buried. Dick was angry when Jason first showed up, jealous, but by the time Jason grew up he was just as angry. You hoped that wouldn’t happen to you.

You were a great student, thriving in your classes and finishing middle school earlier than others, what else were you supposed to do when you had no friends? Of course, that was nothing to Tim’s brilliance. And every time you tried to bond with him on that or show him your achievements it would be a tired “I don’t have time for you.” or an uninterested “I achieved that when I was younger than you.”

Barbara is everything you wanted to be when older, smart, beautiful, had friends and the family's attention. It hurt so much to see her get along with Cassandra but not you, never you. And Cassandra… You tried. You tried to befriend her without overwhelming her, but since the first introduction, she had started ignoring you too, downright leaving the room if you entered it. Bruce went to all her recitals, but he never had time for your galleries or competitions. You stopped asking everyone to come when you found the invites and pamphlets balled up and thrown in the trash bins.

By the time Duke and Stephanie came around you had given up, what use was it? It’ll be another rejection, so you just took care of the garden and did more art, your room overflowing with it. You spent at least half of the monthly allowance Bruce gave, and yet you could still be a millionaire.

You gave up on the Waynes, only speaking to them if they spoke to you. You were done with them, with their secrets, with how they would talk between each other in whispers and then get quiet when you stepped into the room. They’d always look at you like you were a stranger, an enemy. And perhaps you were. So, fuck them. Fuck the boys, fuck the girls, and fuck Bruce and Alfred too.

Sneaking out was the best thing you have done for yourself- sure it was a long way from the Manor to the city and back, but it was all worth it. It was worth it to see the other street kids, to hear their stories, to hang out with the homeless and the girls on their smoke break, it was worth everything when you found your mom’s grave. It was nice, it felt like home.

Was it dangerous? Yes. But as long as you stuck to Red Hood’s territory you were fine, his rule of keeping kids safe seemed to also apply to you. He was nice, even if he never spoke around you beyond hums and grunts, but you enjoyed how gentle he was with the other kid, how he ruffled your hair, and how he helped you clean your mom’s grave. He was nice, and surprisingly so were most other rogues.

Ivy enjoyed helping you with tips for the garden, some of the flowers you grew there on every 13th of the month were made into bouquets for her, your mom’s grave, and Jason’s too. Two-face was surprisingly nice about your inquiry of the law and Penguin enjoyed helping you with your business classes. The Riddler made you want to smash your head against a wall most of the time, but boy was he good with philosophy.

You avoided the Joker like the plague. You couldn’t find it in you to care for him when Harley reminded you so much of your mom when she came with a black eye or busted lip asking if you could take care of Bud and Lou for a jiffy. You could never say no to her.

If Red Hood wasn’t keeping an eye on you, it was Bane or Killer Croc, both men letting you climb and swing from them like a spider. They enjoyed seeing a kid not tremble in fear at the sight of them, despite whatever they may tell you. Mr. Freeze was nice too, lonely like you. Sad you simply couldn’t take the cold for long no matter how many layers you put on.

You loved them all to a degree, but Catwoman always made you feel like her kid, not just a kid. Sometimes you felt guilty for wanting to call her mom, you had a mom. But she made you feel all soft and mushy, calling you her kit, crying with you when you first heard her call you that. She thought she had hurt you, oh, how panicked she was. But her hug was so warm, so loving once she found out that no one had called you their kid in so long.  You wish she would steal you away, she does too, but she made a deal with Red Hood. Selina wishes she had just taken you and moved across the country, everyone be damned.

Unknowingly, you had created the garden to hold flowers that reminded you of all of them, even the Waynes. You couldn’t bring yourself to kill their flowers, to make bouquets of them or sell them- you just didn’t have it in you. So, you just kept on growing them, talking to them, and telling those flowers what your alleged family would never listen to. And then Bruce ruined it all.

He wasn’t sure why he did it, exhaustion or paranoia, maybe both? But all Bruce knew he was seeing is his mom’s garden flourishing after years of it being neglected, of Alfred overlooking it at Bruce’s request to focus on what rooms were being used inside the manor instead. He didn’t think twice about grabbing the pesticide designed for Poison Ivy, didn’t think about asking Alfred, about asking the kids, he just reacted.

Bruce was drinking his guilt away in his office, forehead pressed against his desk as one hand held a whiskey glass and the other gripped at his hair. He had never seen his youngest that angry, crying so much-… He wasn’t sure when the last time he saw her smile or hang around the family was.

“What have you done?!” He remembers how pained and angry you sounded as he killed the last flower, his flower. He remembers how he acted, how annoyance rose in him as he explained, and he remembers how his heart fell out of his ass when you said that you took care of the garden and that you spent years building it.

His face remained unmoving as his hands shook, as his jaw clenched, as he could feel the sky crash on his head in tempo with your tears falling down your cheeks. He tried to justify himself, come up with a lie, something that would make him feel less guilty, but- “Yeah?! Well, maybe you would have known if you actually spared a glance in my direction from time to time- You should have left me in an orphanage, no- it should have been you instead of mom!”

You were hurt, you didn’t mean it, he was sure. Even after you went into the manor, crying your heart out, Bruce still sat there. He wasn’t sure what he could do, the pesticide ruined the soil, he didn’t even remember what flowers he saw. The man just went into his daytime office, grabbed his father's liquor, and drank. Bruce knew he should go and apologize and try to talk to you. He poured himself another full glass, instead. Tonight, Batman will be sleeping, and tomorrow Bruce will raise your allowance. If he remembers.

You knew to some degree Bruce didn’t like you, but for him to not even notice that you poured your blood and sweat into that garden when Alfred and even Cassandra did felt like a punch to the gut. You were a good kid, you tried your best to be, so why was this the hand you were dealt? Did he honestly think the flowers in the manor were bought by Alfred? The old man was so busy the last thing on his mind was to buy flowers for the house.

You couldn’t believe him, you could only cry for the lost plants, for one of the three things that brought you happiness. You curled into a ball under the warm duvet, crying into your knees until you could not anymore. The shadows did their best to soothe you, lulling you to sleep as the exhaustion of crying helped them.

Dreams didn’t come easy to you, sure, you had the usual nightmare, but calm dreams were a rare occasion. And this one felt so nice as you drifted in the endless dark space, two figures you couldn’t quite make out helping you stay afloat as they talked… chanted? You weren’t sure. It sounded like Latin, but it also didn��t. No matter, it was soothing, warm, it was what you needed.

You felt light as a feather. You felt free and- you hit your head… The pain not only confuses you but also wakes you up, the throbbing on the side of your head making you groan. Your tired eyes looked around trying to figure out what you hit as your hand rubbed the sore spot.

Maybe you were still dreaming. You must still be dreaming. Panic set into your veins- there was no way this was actually happening, it couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be a meta- Batman hated metas and he worked for your- he worked for Bruce- You were fucked.

It didn’t matter that as soon as it happened and you panicked your body hit the floor so hard it rattled your nightstand, making a framed picture fall and break, it didn’t matter that you didn’t register the pain, or notice that you broke the floorboard where you hid all your diaries and drawings you made for the family- all your brain knew is that you should leave before Batman throws you in Arkham or GSP.

So that’s what you did. You grabbed your sports bag that you used for art supplies, stuffed it with some clothes, your laptop, phone, the chargers, took a few sketchbooks and pens, and the card with Bruce’s money. Not like he’ll notice, he didn’t notice that you spent thousands every other week at a fast-food joint for the homeless and street kids, didn’t notice that you spent millions every other year at retail stores for the same people, he didn’t notice the donations. He was as blind as a bat.

“Leap of faith” is what Superman once said in an interview about how others with the power could learn to take off. “It’s just a leap of faith.” He was right- you almost pissed yourself, but he was right. You understood why he always was floating above the ground; it felt so freeing to fly, circling the manor to the top, feeling the air around you. It was so nice. You should move, fly away, and yet your eyes can’t leave the destroyed garden. You should make a few stops before fully leaving… just a few.

When each of the rogues found one singular flower in their favorite seat, their window sill, on the weapons and cars they owned, all withered and falling apart, they knew what it meant.

Ivy was the first, she knew the second the plants died. After all, she helped keep the plants alive, nothing could thrive on the Wayne land anymore, almost like it was cursed, as if Death herself lived on the grounds. But seeing the burned and greying orange trumpet vine told her everything she needed to know, that it wasn’t you who destroyed them. Bruce Wayne and the Bats didn’t know what was about to come their way.

You’ll miss your friends, the kids, the rogues. You’ll miss Catwoman, but she always told you to be a bit more selfish. This was the moment for that. Doubt settled in at some point, but you had nothing holding you attached to the Waynes, Catwoman couldn’t or just wouldn’t take care of you, it was time to let go and abuse Bruce’s ignorance, make a new life for you where you don’t need to hide in the night for some social interaction.

New York City should be the perfect place for it.

Tag List: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry

[p5buecks]

grind on me

paige bueckers x oc

bathroom stall hook up

cw: smut

hi first smut post so i wanted to keep it pretty chill. let me know what you think and you can also send me requests!

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `

When the opening beat to Grind On Me by Pretty Ricky blasted through the club, there was only one person on my mind. My boyfriend; Caleb. This was our unofficial, official song. We met in a similar setting two years ago and as this exact song played, the brunette boy couldn’t take his eyes off me. As I danced and moved my body to the beat, Caleb watched intently before making his move.

I navigated through the crowd of sweaty, swaying bodies, eyes focused on my boyfriend who was stood with a group of his friends. I could feel myself grinning cheesily and there was no doubt, it was vodka induced. My vision had also significantly blurred since the beginning of the night and despite my steps being cautious and careful, I was still knocking into people. Without saying any words, I pressed my body against Calebs. I moved sensually, the way he liked it. My back pressed into his front and I waited for his hands to find my waist as they usually did but the familiar feeling never came. Instead I felt his flat palm press against my back before his voice muttered into my ear, “Chill, Selene.” I was tipsy and payed no mind and further pushed into Calab, ass directly in his crotch as as my hips moved to the beat.

“I said chill.” Calebs voice was deeper and more intense this time and paired with a slight shove, knocking me off balance, I couldn’t ignore him any longer. “What the fuck Caleb?” I spun around, coming face to face with my boyfriend. “You’re drunk and it’s embarrassing.” Calebs scolds, “You’ve never had a problem before.” I rebuttal, frowning while both hands rested on my hips. “Well, I have an image to keep up and people are looking, so chill.” Calebs eyes narrowed and I was taken aback, he never acted like this, I was caught off guard but I wasn’t about to back down. “I don’t give a damn if people are looking!” I flung my arms up in the air for dramatic effect and raised my voice several decibels higher. If people weren’t looking, they definitely are now.

Despite everyones eyes being on us having a domestic dispute in the middle of a busy club, Caleb had no problem reaching out for my face, holding me under my chin and squeezing my jaw, “Chill the fuck out or go home!” His tone was venomous and I sobered up quick before muttering a sharp ‘fine’ and hurrying away with tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

I barged my way to the bathrooms and locked myself in a stall before giving in and letting myself cry. The salty tears made my eyes sting and cheeks wet. I needed to go home.

“Pull yourself together.” I urged myself as I wiped my tear stained face, my makeup was ruined and as I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I could only agree with my boyfriend. I was drunk and embarrassing. I was an embarrassment to him. I held my hands underneath the cold running water in a hope to ground myself and closed my eyes, taking several deep breaths, “He’s right.” I whispered.

“He’s a jerk.” A voice other than my own made me realise I was no longer alone in the bathroom and I flicked my eyes open. It took them a minute to adjust to the low lighting but the tall blonde at the door was crystal clear. Whoever she was, she was right. Caleb was a jerk but I wasn’t about to admit that to a total stranger.

I dried my hands, avoiding eye contact, just wanting to leave. “You good?” The blonde spoke again and this time she took a few steps further into the bathroom, closing the space between us. “I’m fine.” My response was short and quick and may have sounded rude, “I’m good. Thank you.” I corrected myself, shooting the girl a tight lipped smile and stepping around her. Our arms brushed each others and I was close enough for her scent to reach me. It was floral and sweet with hints of amber and vanilla. It made me stop in my tracks.

“You not allowed to have fun or sum?” She continued as I reached for the door handle. Everything told me to open the door and walk out. Go home, sober up and apologise profusely to Caleb in the morning but my body betrayed me. I let go of the door handle and turned back around to two artic blue eyes locked on me. Her pupils were dilated ever so slightly and she raised a brow as she awaited my answer.

“I guess not.” Was all I could muster and I leant against the basin. The cold marble cooling my heated skin. “Pretty girl like you should be having all the fun. Want me to go let him know?” Even though there was nothing funny about this situation and I could still taste my salty tears on my lips, I giggled, “It’s good. Don’t want you getting in trouble.” The blonde was now stood in front of me, our height difference glaringly obvious as I looked up at her. “What do you want?” There was a change in her tone, it was lower, more breathy and I suppressed a shiver. “To go home. Forgot about this mess of a night.” I tried my hardest to look away as I spoke, break the eye contact, relieve the tension that was quickly building but I couldn’t. Her hands weren’t on me but this girl had me in a chokehold.

“Forgetting is easy.” She said pushing loose curls off my face causing me to take a sharp intake of breath. Her hands were big but slender and cool against the warmth of my heated skin. “Yeah?” My voice came out croaky but I quickly cleared my throat, it was clear to me what was happening here and maybe I wasn’t thinking straight or maybe I was and just didn’t care but I was as game as she was. “Yeah. But if you need some help, just let me know.”

Two people in one stall was cramped to say the least but with my back pressed up against the wall and the blonde pressed up against me, any thoughts of this being wrong had exited my mind. She was everywhere. Her lips on my lips, then on my jaw, sloppy as they made their way down my neck before nipping at the skin on my chest. “No marks.” I breathed out and I got a chuckled response, “He don’t give a fuck baby.” And her hands that had found home on my hips tightened their grip.

Her knee was nestled perfectly between my legs, pressed firmly against my pulsating cunt and the firmer she pressed, the more I rolled my hips on her.

There were very few words spoken between us before her foot knocked mine apart and she pulled my panties to the side and pushed her fingers inside of me. Her pace was immediately fast and hard and her long fingers had no problem reaching that precise spot that made me gasp out loud. As quick as the sound tumbled from my parted lips, her hand came up to cover my mouth. She didn’t have to say anything for me to know that was a command for me to keep quiet.

She pounded in and out of me with no mercy, her hand having migrated from my mouth to my throat, squeezing with the perfect amount of pressure. I was quickly losing control and was unable to stop my eyes from rolling to the back of my head. I bit down on lip in an attempt to keep my breathy moans captive in my throat but it was pointless and as I whimpered in pleasure the blonde simply smirked at me, a small dimple revealing itself. “What would your boyfriend think if he knew some random had his girl moaning like this?” She asked cockily. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t think of a reply. Hell, I couldn’t think of Caleb at all. Not while the wet sound of my arousal filled the small bathroom stall.

“Does he make you moan like this?” No. “Does he make you feel this good?” No. “Do I fuck you better than him?” Yes. But I wasn’t about to admit any of that to the girl I didn’t even know the name of. In an attempt to shut her up, I pressed my lips to hers, slipping my tongue into her mouth. Our tongues fought with each others. Sloppy and heated. I groaned into her mouth as her thumb rubbed soft, tight circles over my clit. “Fuck.” My voice was shaky as I pulled away and my legs almost buckled beneath me as my stomach flipped and contracted as I was worked to the edge. “I’ll take that as a yes.” The blue eyed girl mumbled as she held me firmly in place, against the wall.

With her hand no longer covering my mouth my sordid sounds were no longer being interrupted and my back arched off the wall as my body was overcome with pleasure. “Don’t stop.” I begged as I felt myself clench around the fingers buried inside of me. My skin prickled and my body twitched as I came undone. My head dropped to the taller girls chest and the guttural groan that I let out was damn right sinful.

Breathless and trembling, I whined as her fingers slipped out of me leaving me empty and dripping. I watched with hooded eyes as she took her slick fingers into her mouth, licking them clean. I opened my mouth to speak, unsure of what I wanted to say but the moment was harshly interrupted by the bathroom door slamming open.

“Paige! We’re leaving!” I expected both of us to remain silent. Inconspicuous. But the girl in front of me called out back, “Give me two minutes.” At least she had a name now.

Paige fixed my skirt back into position after it had hiked up to my waist and she ran her thumb under my lip, no doubt wiping away smudged lipstick. “For the record, you can grind on me anytime.” And just as quick as she had made me cum, she left me stood alone, heart still racing from my climax.

“Unbelievable.” Whoever had called out for Paige was still in the bathroom so I remained hidden in the stall, “Give me a break, Azzi.” Paige replied and I was quickly met with silence as the two girls exited.

thank u for reading bbys, smooches!

[tea-writes19]

brother-in-law | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!parker!reader

summary: your brother peter tries to find you a boyfriend by posting an ad on instagram

warnings: swearing, fluff, suggestive content

a/n: my first smau + fic!!!! based on this fic by the lovely @pomegranatesarchive. fr it’s one of my fav smau’s and I don’t even follow f1😭

liked by mjjones, nedleeds, and others

peterparker: are you a young hot single in nyc? well meet y/n parker, my VERY single sister!! she enjoys cheap pizza, true crime, and long walks through central park! if you’re interested please comment down below…serious inquiries only!

view comments below

yourusername: peter wtf is this?!?

peterparker: I WANT A BROTHER! is that too much to ask for???

yourusername: NO!! JUST NO!! @/mayparker aunt may please take his phone!!

mayparker: sorry sweetie, but pete’s right. you’ve been really lonely and sad looking recently

yourusername: so the solution is to pimp me out?!?

peterparker: i will not be stopped

user1: i’m interested?

peterparker: no, too ugly

yourusername: PETER PLEASE

peterparker: i need them to at least look good in pics

mjjones: pete, y/n is going to kill you

yourusername: the bitch is hiding behind stark😡

peterparker: @/ me next time🤺

tonystark: please don’t drag me into this

user2: not bro literally selling his sister😭😭

user3: this is hilarious!

nedleeds: can you do this for me next?

peterparker: no you talk to people

user4: i’m interested!

peterparker: nah

yourusername: what’s the point if you’re just going to reject everyone?

peterparker: shhhh…let me work

yourusername: 🙄🙄

steverogers: what is happening?

peterparker: mr. america sir! are you interested?? y/n loves history! you’d be my first choice too!!

steverogers: uh no thanks…i’m too busy right now to think about dating

yourusername: not me getting rejected by CAPTAIN AMERICA in front of the world😭

user5: rip

user6: dude don’t you work with literal superheroes? ask them

user7: aren’t half of them married and in committed relationships?

user6: yeah but that still leaves the rest

user8: hey so this is insane!

user9: it’s kinda cute how much he cares about his sister

user9: weird too, but cute

peterparker: @/samwilson @/buckybarnes @/steverogers @/natasharomanoff @/joaquintorres @/mariahill @/wandamaximoff who’s interested?

mariahill: no thanks

samwilson: i’m good

steverogers: i already said no…

wandamaximoff: i’m dating vision so no

natasharomanoff: parker this is weird

joaquintorres: no thanks

yourusername: kill me now

user10: this was rough to read

user11: #savey/n from this torture

peterparker: okay, fine, i don’t care

tonystark: he cares

peterparker: on a completely different note @/buckybarnes i need help with a history essay. can you come over tomorrow?

buckybarnes: 👍

buckybarnes added to their story—>

[captain: what the fuck is a oligodendrocyte?]

story replies

steverogers: peter set you up didn’t he?

buckybarnes: he pulled the history essay thing

user12: omg is that y/n???

user13: peter’s post worked!?!

samwilson: man that kid got you good

liked by peterparker, buckybarnes, mjjones and others

yourusername: photo dump bc i graduate in a week!!!

view comments below

peterparker: no me?

yourusername: you lost post privileges after that stunt you pulled

peterparker: BUT IT WORKED OUT DIDN’T IT?!

user14: 👀👀👀

user15: who’s hand is that y/n!?!

user16: IS THAT ALPINE???

buckybarnes: the only person who can get alpine to cuddle

yourusername: i’m just chill like that😌

user17: HELLOOOO????

user18: fr like wdym peter was successful??

yourusername added to their story—>

[caption: 💐🤭]

story replies

user17: omg omg omg

user18: AHHHHHHHH

mjjones: peter is fangirling

liked by buckybarnes, mayparker, pepperpotts and others

yourusername: i graduated college!!!

view comments below

buckybarnes: congrats doll <3

yourusername: love you🫶🏻🫶🏻

user19: DOLL!?!?

user20: EVERYBODY STAY CALM IT’S HAPPENING

mayparker: so proud of you y/n!!!

yourusername: couldn’t have done it without you!!!

pepperpotts: congratulations y/n!

yourusername: thank you!!

user21: omg congrats!

user22: i feel like a proud parent rn🥹

peterparker: my favorite college grad

yourusername: bootlicker😐

peterparker: i take it back

peterparker: you’re the worst🖕

yourusername: love you too petey

tonystark: congrats kid

yourusername: thanks…now give me a job

tonystark: get better taste in men first

buckybarnes: that’s fair

steverogers: BUCKY

© tea-writes19 do not repost, translate, or copy

thank you for reading <3

[fluentmoviequoter]

Anatomy of a Relationship

Requested Here!

Pairing: (established) Tim Bradford x fem!neurosurgeon!reader

Summary: When your friend comes over in the middle of the night to talk about guy problems, Tim finds out what your relationships really mean to you.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff, a Castle reference, Karah is loosely based on Regine from Living Single

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Rules/Info

“11.25 millimeters,” you read. “That’s not good.”

“What’s not good?” your best friend, Karah, whispers as she lays her hand on your shoulder.

“I just got an MRI with an 11.25-millimeter aneurysm attached to the basilar artery,” you answer. “What’s up?” you murmur, flipping the page.

“Nothing,” she sighs.

“That was convincing.”

“It’s not as important as a brain aneurysm.”

You set your clipboard on your desk and turn toward Karah, shaking your head as you smile at her. “Most things aren’t, but I’m sure I can manage it.”

Before Karah answers, your phone rings. You mouth an apology as you answer and say your name.

“Got it, on my way,” you assure before you end the call. As you gather your things, you tell Karah, “We will talk later. Promise.”

“Go save a life!”

“I have been looking everywhere for you!” you exclaim as you enter a supply closet.

Karah hums but doesn’t speak past the nail polish applicator held between her teeth.

“Pretty color,” you muse as you sit beside her on a gurney.

“Thanks,” she replies as she removes the applicator. “Want some?”

“Surgical board frowns upon painted nails,” you remind her.

“Hence, why I’m doing my toe-sies,” Karah singsongs. “What are you doing with Sergeant Bradford tonight?”

“As little as possible, I hope. What are you doing tonight? Another date with the mystery man?”

“Another date, yes. Mystery man, no.”

“What happened?”

“Have you ever watched a cartoon where the characters kiss and they just kinda…” Karah closes the nail polish and shoves her palms together in demonstration.

“Sure,” you answer, nodding. “The PG version with no emotion and no lips.”

“Yeah, that’s how he kissed.”

“Ugh.” You shiver for emphasis, and Karah nods emphatically.

“And his lips were chapped, too.”

“We can’t have anything in this life.”

Karah scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Right, because you have it so bad with a hot police officer.”

“A hot police officer who cancels dates weekly and has minimal emotional availability.”

“But you love him,” she reminds you.

“That I do. Look, I’ve got a consult call before I leave, but call me later, let me know how your date went, okay?”

“Will do. Enjoy your date, if it happens.”

You shove Karah gently as you slide off the gurney. Opening the door, you call, “Love you!” over your shoulder.

“Smooches!” she replies.

“Stop staring at me,” Tim demands as he locks your door.

“Answer the question!” you reply. “I can’t let you sleep here if you’re lying to me!”

“It’s fine.”

“Why? How do you know?”

Tim sighs and takes your face between his hands. “It’s fine,” he repeats.

You pout, pushing your lower lip out as you blink at him.

“My neighbor is watching Kojo, so it is fine if I stay tonight,” he assures you with a sigh.

Your brows furrow as you ask, “You asked your neighbor to watch Kojo? Presumptuous.”

“I… Never mind,” Tim murmurs, his hands still on your face.

“We should probably have some dessert,” you whisper, leaning into his touch. “Not like that, Tim, get your mind out of the gutter.”

Tim huffs a laugh, then kisses your forehead and drops his hands to your waist.

“Listen,” you request, not moving to get dessert. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I’m not asking you to make any big decisions or anything, but if you want to bring Kojo in the future, you can.”

“Thank you.”

“Although, he’d probably never want to leave because I’m nicer than you.”

Tim tightens his grip on your waist slowly, waiting until you grunt to smooth his palms against your shirt. He leans toward you, and you murmur, “Dessert can wait.”

Your front door clicks closed around midnight, and you sit up in bed. Tim shifts beside you but doesn’t wake as he rolls away. Soft footsteps pad down your hall, and you relax, recognizing the gait. Karah steps into your room with her hair pulled back messily and her cheeks red from scrubbing her makeup off.

“C’mon,” you invite her, patting the mattress.

Karah pulls back the comforter and sits beside you with a heavy sigh. You move closer to Tim and lay your hand on his back.

“Is it me?” Karah asks.

“I hope so, considering you’re in my bed,” you reply softly. “What’s going on? And don’t tell me nothing.”

“So, I went on a date with the vet, right? And the next day, he ghosts me. Then mystery man seems to be the one until we kiss and then there’s nothing there, no spark, no more mystery.”

“Tonight?”

“He wanted to move way too fast. Was I wrong for not wanting to? I mean, what if he was the one – or, at the least, the best I can get – and I ruined it because I asked him to slow down?”

“He wasn’t the one,” you assure her, wrapping her in a hug. “If he couldn’t respect that and made you uncomfortable, then he 100%, beyond a shadow of a doubt, was not the one. You’ll know when someone is the one or has a chance of being him.”

Karah looks over your shoulder at Tim’s back and asks, “Are you sure?”

With a smile, you promise, “I’m sure. When the right man comes along, things aren’t always comfortable, but you’re willing to fight to get back to that comfort.”

“Unless there isn’t a right man,” Karah adds, falling back against your pillow. “I try, I get out and date, but maybe it is just me.”

“Maybe.”

Karah’s eyes widen, and you argue, “Exactly. There is no way it’s you. There are nearly 4 million people living in Los Angeles, so what if you can’t find the one perfect person for you quickly?”

“That’s only 2 million men, and half of those are married or not interested. The pool is way down and I’ve been swimming.”

“49 people in every 10,000 have a brain aneurysm each year. Just because it’s a low number doesn’t mean I’m going to quit my job. The 30,000 people who have an aneurysm rupture every year wouldn’t have a neurosurgeon if we all thought like that.”

“I see your point,” Karah grumbles. “But I still hate it.”

“I get it. But maybe a break would clear out some of the wrong men.”

“How do I find what you have?”

“The way I did it? Pure luck. Besides, most of the cops we get in the hospital aren’t like this one.”

“Maybe I should call Rick and see if he’s still single.”

“Rick who let his ex-wife crash at his house and walk around half-naked while you were dating? I’m going to veto that option.”

“He was rich.”

“And a terrible person.”

You scoot back to sit against the headboard as Karah tells you more about what she’s feeling, and as the night goes on, you do your best friend duty and don’t notice that your hand strays to Tim every few minutes.

“Okay,” you interrupt after hours of talking. “We need a pick-me-up.”

“What?” Karah asks.

“Let’s go.”

You lead Karah out of your bed and into the kitchen. After placing your kettle on the stove to heat water, you unlock your phone and scroll through your music library until you find the perfect playlist. The Bluetooth speaker tucked under your upper cabinet plays the opening notes of 2000s pop before Kesha sings, “Hot and dangerous. If you’re one of us then roll with us.”

Karah gasps in excitement, then leans forward to do the handshake you made up during your first year working together. The music plays too loud for the early hour as you dance around the kitchen together, but you don’t care because it’s cheering Karah up, which is the goal. Each word makes you feel better, more upbeat, and ready to do anything and everything.

As the playlist moves forward to a Britney Spears song, you freeze. Tim stops between the end of the hall and the kitchen and looks from you to Karah and then back to you.

“Is this why I was so squished last night?” he asks.

You nod meekly, and he waves his hand at you as he moves toward the kettle and the cabinet where you keep your tea and coffee.

“Breakfast?” he asks.

“Please!” Karah answers.

“Yes,” you say as you dance past him. “Thank you.”

You turn the music down at the end of the song and ask Karah if she feels better.

“Mostly,” she admits. “Now I just need a guy who makes me feel like Hips Don’t Lie does. Sorry, Tim.”

“I’m not even here,” he encourages her. “And if I was, I wouldn’t get involved.”

You shrug and gesture for Karah to continue.

“There’s something I didn’t tell you yet,” she murmurs.

“Well now you have to.”

“I agreed to go on another date with Ryan, the guy from last night.”

“What?!” you exclaim. “Why?”

“He waited. I mean he made me feel awful for asking but he agreed.”

Tim turns and passes Karah a mug of coffee before he sets your favorite drink beside your hand. “Dump him,” he encourages. “He didn’t mean it, he’ll keep pushing and dishonesty of that kind almost always leads to a misdemeanor, minimum.”

You look at Tim with your brows raised, then agree, “He’s right. A guy like that will try to pressure into not waiting. Don’t let him make you do something you’re uncomfortable with for any reason.”

Karah’s phone buzzes, and she groans as she reads the message. “Jill called in sick again, so I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at the hospital?”

“If you’re lucky,” you tell her as you hug her. “And cancel on Ryan, or ghost him, but don’t see him again.”

“I will. Thanks, Tim!” she calls as she opens the door.

When you turn back toward Tim, he lays his palms on the counter and glares at you, but you can tell he’s hiding a smile.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a smile. “She needed to hear it from someone who wasn’t me.”

“Karah has a key. What would you do if one of my friends climbed into bed with us?” Tim inquires.

“Which friend?” you counter. “Because Lucy has a key to get in here too.”

Tim rolls his eyes and returns his attention to the food on the stove. “Make sure Karah leaves him and let me know if you need some help getting the message through to him.”

“Such a softie,” you muse as you raise your mug.

“What was that?” Tim challenges.

“I said will do, sir.”

Tim hums, so you stand and walk behind him. With your arms wrapped around his waist, you say, “I love you.”

“Then you’ll tell me how many people have a key to your door before I replace the lock.”

[aidansloth]

Late Nights On Kitchen Floors Sometimes Lead To Confessions

Summary: You come home late one night to find your roommate Jason sobbing on the kitchen floor.

Warnings and A/N: some negative self-thoughts on Jason’s side. In this fic Jason is feeling a lot of feelings :) because we love our men crying and traumatized. Pre-relationship! This is my first time writing for Jason so I hope I did him justice. Written in the second person, gender neutral reader, I tried to make reader as inclusive as possible so if I missed something please let me know! JUSTKNOW that my heart broke while writing this. (final note, I wrote this at 4am so don’t judge me)

Words: 0.9k

I also posted this on ao3 if you want!!

Click

You secure the last of the locks on your door as you start to take your boots off along with your coat. Immediately as you stepped in your mind went into autopilot, following your routine so effortlessly that only after what was definitely too many seconds do you notice a heaving sound coming from your kitchen. 

“Jason?”

The words leave your mouth with a tinge of hope that it was just him and not a break-in you’d have to deal with at this ungodly hour in the morning. You check the time with a flick of your phone. 2:14am. 

You receive no response and reach for the bat Jason insisted you left hidden in the umbrella stand. You can never be too safe were his exact words and you’d honestly have to thank him if you made it out tonight. It’s only when you cross the door that you see him: Jason and all of his 6 feet of muscles are scrunched up into a wavering ball, his hands clutching his clothes and his head planted into his knees. All this time you’ve known him and yet he has never looked as vulnerable as he does now, on your dusty crumble-covered floor with tears in his eyes. 

At first no words come out of your mouth, how could they? You’ve talked to Jason just a couple of hours ago on your phone, he called saying he just wanted to hear your voice. He was fine earlier. He was. He asked how your day was. He listened, hanging off your every word. But now here he was in front of you, a broken shell of a man.

Trying to not startle him you get closer and call out his name again. This time he hears you.

He lifts his head and you can see smudged tear stains all over his face probably from an attempt to erase them. An hiccup escapes him and your heart breaks. 

“Oh baby,” you scooch in front of him and take his face in your hands. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

He can’t speak. The words are jabbed in his throat, threatening to suffocate him. He opens his mouth but nothing other than a strangled sound comes out. You start petting his hair.

“Hey, hey, it’s fine, you don’t have to say anything alright?” 

You settle on the floor and try to maneuver his body onto yours, his head on your shoulder. His body adapts to yours, his arms wrap around you and he feels like everything is going to be alright. One of your hands runs up and down his spine in a soothing manner while the other is nestled in his hair. 

A couple of minutes pass and you’re still holding him. Jason thinks he likes it. Being held, that is. 

After some more time his head lifts from your shoulder and your hands move to his forearms, caressing the skin there. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before speaking.

“I, ehm…” Jason’s gaze lays low and his hands start to play with yours. “I have to tell you something.” 

You nod and tell him to take his time. He bites his lip, still looking down. 

“I- Fuck, I messed this up. I really did. This was gonna be so much more romantic I swear. I was gonna- I was gonna invite you to that one bookstore we always go to, I was going buy you all the books you set your eyes on and- and I planned a walk through the park- the one- the one you like-” his voice keeps breaking and hiccuping, “-and walk through the flowerbeds and maybe if the day had gone well I would have had the courage to hold your hand.” he wipes a tear off his face with the palm of his hand. 

You try to speak but he speaks first.

“I like you. I really really like you. I wanted to do this well, tomorrow, but- I don’t know. I got too much in my own head and I’m-” Jason bites his lip and tears fill his eyes again, “I’m really sorry this is how I confess, you deserve so much better, so much better and I’m a mess and, and-” you grab his face and force him to look at you. 

“Jason Peter Todd, you listen to me carefully.” his big teary eyes look at your stern ones, “The only reason I’m not kissing you right now is because you deserve a beautifully romantic first kiss because you like beautifully romantic things. You deserve all the wonderful things this world has to offer.”

Jason thinks his heart has never felt so warm. 

“Wha-what?”

His words make you giggle and now he thinks his heart might actually implode. 

“I like you.”

“I like you too.”

Now your giggle turned into a proper laugh which made Jason smile. 

“Yeah, that was pretty obvious from the earlier declaration of love.” Now he’s giggling too. 

“Does that ehm- does that mean you want to be my girlfriend?” You giggle again at the innocence in his voice and Jason thinks he’d die all over again just for a chance to hear you laugh one more time.

“Yes, yes it does. Only if you take me to that date you were talking about though.”

He smiles. “We could go now.”

Your eyes widen. “Now? At 2am?”

He shrugs. “I’m Red Hood. Nothing bad is gonna happen.”

You scoff. “Yeah alright, but I think the bookstore might be closed.”

“Ah. Right. Tomorrow then.”

“Eager?”

His smile only gets bigger. “Duh, I have a girlfriend to take out.”

Thank you for reading!! Constructive criticism/advice is always welcome!

[elleloquently]

i honestly don't even really like to talk about tlou2 but something that will absolutely baffle me until the end of time is how many people romanticize the farm sequence and view it as happy. every time someone says the game should've ended there or that ellie threw away her whole life and she could've been happy etc etc etc, it really makes me realize how many people do lack literacy and the ability to read between the lines. because how are you seeing the farm scenes and not realizing how devastating it is?? it feels so empty and lifeless.

yes ellie laughed and they listen to music and dance but those are such small snippets. anyone with severe ptsd / mental trauma can be okay for a moment. but ellie was quite literally killing herself on that farm and absolutely would've ended up dead by her own hand (which is not a crazy assumption to make it is quite literally context clues)

like she’s always been skinny and lean but she’s even more thin on the farm?? she literally says she doesn’t eat or sleep?? and the panic attacks that she has?

also when ellie says “i’m not like you dina” and dina instantly snaps back with “you think this is easy for me?” like no that’s not what is being insinuated at all, but the fact of the matter is that dina is still able to function and cope in healthy ways and ellie is not. and the fact that dina doesn’t understand that kinda kills me. also telling ellie to “prove it” when she tells dina that she loves her is so fucked considering everything.

she would’ve died! i will stand by this forever, ellie would not have lived much longer. (confirmed btw in directors commentary, ellie was severely suicidal at this point. so not sure how everyone views the farm as her happy point.)

i don’t think ellie had an obligation to suffer in silence for the sake of what dina wanted.

i don’t blame dina for leaving obviously, that was the best choice for her and i don’t blame ellie for going either!! i think their relationship is very doomed, it was quite literally built on years of miscommunication and it only continues as they’re together.

i don’t blame ellie for leaving the farm whatsoever, she did not “fumble dina,” she didn’t throw away her life, she was barely functioning in the first place. if the game ended with ellie on the farm and the last thing we saw of her was her trying to play house while knowing how much she was suffering, that would’ve been so damn depressing. her leaving may not be the “morally good” choice but it was necessary considering her own mental state.

i think it’s also so important to remember the way in which joel died. she’s not just grieving and dealing with survivors guilt, she’s also living with the brutality of what she experienced. watching the person she loved the most get brutally tortured/beaten to death while she was held down and begging for it to stop?? and you guys expect her to just move on and deal with it so she can keep living on this isolated farm and play happy family??

and it’s not like ellie was fine until tommy showed up. she was already on the edge. the evidence is in her behavior, her journal, the clues around her house (the whiskey glass at her bedside) and her literal mannerisms.

this is very messy and disorganized i just don’t understand how many people STILL oversimplify the farm stuff or act as though everything was happy and good. every time someone says that ellie owed it to dina to stay, i lose a year off of my life.

basically a ramble instead of a proper analysis/breakdown bc i’m trying to focus my energy elsewhere but hopefully it makes enough sense to be understood