#it's not often I get to draw him with an expression that's not a fake smile

[technically-human]

Misunderstandings part 3/3

Talking about it! Kind of.

@i-am-as-normal-as-you-are thank you again for this commission, I knew these two were not talking properly about Hell, but I never considered all the implications. Silly boys.

[4linos]

they call you clingy.

ot8 x fem!reader

warning: really angsty, feeling insecure/unworthy, no happy endings. (sorry)

wc: 8708

bang chan

You and Chan had been together for a while, and things were generally great between you two. You had your own lives, your own routines, but there was always a sense of closeness between you that you both cherished. Lately, though, you’d found yourself tagging along with him more often, especially when he had dinner plans with the members.

At first, he didn’t mind. In fact, he enjoyed having you around, and the other members seemed to appreciate it too. Some of their girlfriends were there as well, so it felt natural, like a group gathering. But after a while, you started coming along more frequently, not wanting to spend evenings apart. You thought it was a way to spend more time with him, but you could tell it was starting to weigh on Chan, though you weren’t sure why.

Chan said nothing at first, but you could tell he became quieter and more distant throughout these dinners. He looked at his phone more frequently, and his smile seemed forced when you spoke with him or the others. Still, you tried to ignore it, telling yourself it was just your imagination. You weren't doing anything wrong by wanting to be with him, right? You had every right to join him on nights when he was with the other members. But you couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

One evening, as you all gathered for a casual dinner at a restaurant, the atmosphere was different. You were laughing, eating, and talking with some of the other girls when you realized Chan was particularly quiet. He was nibbling at his food and not really participating in the conversation. You leaned over to him, laying your hand on his arm, attempting to draw him into the moment.

"Chan, is everything okay?" You asked, your voice gentle and anxious.

He shuddered slightly at the contact and gave you a fake smile. "Yeah, everything's fine," he said, but the tiredness in his voice was clear. The others didn’t seem to notice, but you did. It felt like he was pushing away from you just a little. Your stomach twisted as you tried to ignore the unease creeping in. Then, the conversation shifted. As the dinner continued, someone brought up how often you came along with Chan to these meals. You didn’t think much of it at first, but you could feel his discomfort growing.

“Honestly, though,” Chan suddenly chimed in, his voice a little more sharp than usual, “it’s getting a bit much. She’s always tagging along. It’s like she can’t ever be away from me. It's kind of suffocating.”

The words hit you like a smack in the face. You froze, your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach. The table fell silent for a moment, the tension in the air evident. You could feel everyone's gaze on you, and your cheeks reddened with shame. You tried to shrug it off, believing it was a joke, but the expression in Chan's eyes revealed his disinterest. He was not joking. Time seemed to slow down, and you could feel the sting of his words settling deep within you. Without thinking, you excused yourself from the table and went to the restroom, your chest tight and your eyes welling with tears. You locked yourself in a stall and tried to calm your pounding heart, but the words replayed in your mind over and over again. “Clingy,” “suffocating.” You felt small, insignificant, and utterly hurt.

Meanwhile, at the table, the other members exchanged glances, seemingly uneasy about what had just happened. After a minute, Hyunjin spoke up, his tone surprisingly soft. "Chan, that wasn't cool, man. Why would you say anything like that? She isn't clinging at all. She's just trying to spend time with you."

Felix nodded in line, his tone quiet yet forceful. "Yeah, we really like having her around. She makes things more fun, you know? I don't understand why you'd say something like that.”

Chan wasn't sure how to answer. He had meant it as a joke, something to relieve the stress he'd been experiencing lately, but now that he'd heard the other responses from the others, a rush of shame swept over him. He felt he'd crossed a boundary, but it wasn't until they spoke out that he recognized how serious the situation was. "I didn't mean it like that," he whispered, but his apologies seemed hollow even for him.

His thoughts was muddled by remorse, and for the first time in a long time, he felt completely embarrassed. "I think you should go talk to her," Minho said softly. "She is probably really hurt right now. You have to make it right."

Chan’s stomach churned. He didn’t want to think about how badly he’d hurt you. His usual confident self was gone, replaced by a knot of regret.

lee know

It was one of those days. The sort where everything you touched seemed to fall apart, and every corner you turned revealed another disaster ready to happen. The day began with your boss screaming at you for something you didn't even do, his anger pouring out on you as if it were your responsibility that the world was collapsing. You hardly had time to calm yourself before spilling your coffee all over your blouse at lunch. The entire day had been an upsurge of humiliating incidents, missed deadlines, and biting your tongue to resist snapping at everyone who gave you the wrong look.

You were physically and emotionally drained when you arrived home. You just wanted the day to end, to close your eyes and forget everything. However, when you walked through the door, you were welcomed by a familiar, comfortable smell.

Minho was in the kitchen, wearing an apron and humming softly to himself while making something. Your heart lifted a little because he was here, cooking for you. The simple gesture of kindness was a welcome breath of fresh air after a long day of drowning.

You stood by the door, hesitant whether to interrupt, but then he turned toward you with a gentle smile. "Hey, how was your day?"

You forced a smile, despite the weight of the day pressing on you. “It was... fine. I’m just glad to be home.”

He noticed the weariness in your eyes and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a gentle embrace. It was the kind of comfort you needed, even if you didn’t know it until he offered it. “Relax. I’ve got dinner covered. Why don’t you just sit down and take it easy?”

You nodded, thankful for his concern, but something inside you refused to just sit back and do nothing. It felt awful to be passive while he was so busy. "Let me help," you volunteered, heading near the counter, attempting to gather yourself after a stressful day. Minho gently shook his head, a teasing gleam in his eyes. "There's no need. "Please relax, okay?" You couldn't help but feel a sense of dissatisfaction. He was always so selfless and compassionate, and you didn't want to be someone who just sat by. Instead of disputing, you nodded and gave in to his desire. He was right, after all; you could use a break. “Alright. But give me something small to do.”

Minho paused for a moment to contemplate, then assigned you a tiny task. "Okay, could you please tidy up a little while I finish the soup? Just wipe down the countertops." It seemed simple enough.

You took a rag and followed his instructions while he worked on the soup. The house was peaceful, almost serene, and you hadn't felt that type of peace all day. It was good to be here with him and feel like you weren't confronting the world alone.

But in the middle of cleaning, your eyes darted to the pot of soup on the stove. It smelled incredible like something he had poured his heart into. You felt a surge of gratitude, the kind that made you want to help him, to show him how much you appreciated everything he did for you.

Without thinking, you decided to move the pot, to give him a little more space so he could focus on finishing everything. You gently lifted the heavy pot, but as you tried to shift it, your grip faltered. The edge of the pot slipped from your hand, and in an instant, it tilted, the boiling liquid splashing violently all over the kitchen floor and onto your leg.

You screamed out in shock, the searing heat of the soup burning into your skin, but the pain on your leg was nothing compared to the way everything seemed to shatter around you. The kitchen became chaos. The pot had fallen, splattered everywhere, and the delicious smell was suddenly replaced with the pungent scent of spilled soup. You tried to gather yourself, but the kitchen was now a disaster, and so were you on the verge of tears, overwhelmed, hurt, and defeated.

Minho turned when he heard the accident. His expression shifted from worry to annoyance in an instant. You looked up, and his eyes were filled with anger. The following words he said struck you harder than the burn on your leg. "Why are you always so clingy? I spent hours making that! "If you had just stayed out of the way for once, this could have been avoided!" His voice was harsh and slashed through the air like a razor. You stared at him, frozen in shock.

Was this actually happening?

His words felt like a punch to your chest. They were not what you expected, not from him, not when you were already dealing with the weight of the world. Your mind scrambled to make sense of it. How had it come to this? How had you gone from being the person he always tried to comfort to someone he now seemed to resent?

He stayed there, hands clenched at his sides. "God, I can't believe this," he said quietly, shaking his head. You always do this. You always get in the way. "Why can't you just relax and let me do it?"

You couldn't react because your heart was hammering painfully in your chest. You had spilled more than simply the soup. It was not only the mess. It was the sting of being accused of something you never wanted to do, like being too much. You did not want to be a burden for him. You never intended to make things more difficult, yet everything you did seemed to make things worse.

Minho sighed, looking at the mess with frustration. “Just… go to the room or something,” he snapped, turning away from you.

You stood there, unsure of what to do, feeling smaller than you ever had before. You knew he was angry, but the way he dismissed you, the way he acted like you were just an inconvenience, was something you hadn’t expected from him. He wasn’t usually like this. But right now, it felt like you had done something unforgivable. It felt like everything you had ever tried to do for him had been wrong, every gesture of kindness or help misplaced.

Your legs gave way, and you sank to the floor, trying to steady yourself, but your hands trembled with the weight of his words. Hot tears welled up in your eyes, and you didn’t bother wiping them away. The physical pain in your leg from the burns was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. You had wanted to help, to make things better for him. But now, all you could do was try to tend to your own wounds both physical and emotional alone.

You pulled yourself up slowly, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realized were falling, trying to find the strength to move. Minho was still in the kitchen, silent now, cleaning up the mess you had made, but his anger still hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

You left him there, retreating to your bedroom, feeling more isolated than you had in a long time. The night was quiet, but the silence between you and Minho felt louder than ever. And in that silence, you couldn’t help but wonder how long you could keep trying to be the person he wanted you to be when everything you did seemed to push him further away.

changbin

The evening started out like any other. You and Changbin were going to go to the gym together after a long day. You were excited to spend more time with him, especially since you had been trying to join him at the gym more often recently. At first, it seemed like a fun bonding activity. You'd go to encourage him, attempt to keep up with some of the exercises, and simply enjoy being with him. Changbin had always been a bit of a lone wolf, preferring his own time to recuperate, but he'd been nice enough to let you tag along at first.

You didn’t realize that things had slowly started to change. What had initially felt like an innocent way to spend more time together had started to weigh on him. Maybe it was because you’d started following him around everywhere always just a few steps behind, trying to do what he was doing, lingering around him during his sets. Maybe it was because he didn’t have his usual space anymore. But whatever the reason, Changbin was beginning to feel the pressure, and he didn’t know how to tell you.

You had no idea how much your presence at the gym was bothering him. He wasn't trying to hurt you or make you feel bad about wanting to spend time with him, but tonight was different. He could feel his patience fading and his irritation growing the more you wanted to incorporate yourself into his routine. It was supposed to be his time to escape. He needed the gym to be his sanctuary, a place to unwind and clear his mind. But tonight, as you followed him from machine to machine, everything came to a head.

The air in the gym seemed heavier than usual. Changbin could feel his patience fraying as you followed him for what seemed like the umpteenth time. You weren't doing anything wrong, yet he couldn't shake the overwhelming sense that you were constantly present. His gaze shifted to the clock on the wall; he'd been here for nearly an hour. And it wasn't that you were clingy in an obnoxious way; it was simply that you were always with him, which was enough to frustrate him.

He couldn't concentrate, couldn't clear his mind as he used to. You were always there, following his every move, asking questions about his setups, and attempting to get in the way of his routine. His thoughts were clouded, his mind no longer able to concentrate on the iron and his own movements. He couldn’t unwind. He couldn’t breathe.

When you followed him to the weights area once again, his frustration bubbled over.

“Y/N, can you just stop?” he snapped, his voice harsh and sharp, completely different from the usual warmth you were used to. His words cut through the air like a slap. “Can you just let me have this one thing? The gym isn’t supposed to be some place where you follow me around all the time. I need it to be my own. I need my space. You’re always here, and it’s... it’s too much.”

You froze, a cold shiver of confusion running through your body. Your eyes flickered from his irritated face to the ground, unsure of what to say. You had always been so excited to share things with him, and this was the last place you thought something like this would happen.

“B-Bin... I didn’t—" you started, your voice faltering, but he cut you off, his frustration spilling over.

“You’re always clinging to me, Y/N. And at first, I thought it was cute. But now? It’s just too much. The gym is supposed to be my alone time, somewhere I can relax, somewhere I can focus. But you’re here, and I can’t even do that anymore,” he said, each word feeling like a weight crashing down on you.

Your chest tightened and you found yourself unable to breathe for a little while. It felt as if the world had stopped moving around you, and all you could hear was the flow of blood in your ears. You weren't expecting to hear those words from him. Changbin had always been supportive and loving, even if he was a little protective of his space. What about now? Now it felt like he was pushing you away. And the way he avoided your gaze while he spoke, as if he couldn't stand to witness the pain he was causing, you could feel your heart breaking piece by piece.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill, but it didn’t help. The lump in your throat was too big, and the pain was too overwhelming. You weren’t clingy. You just wanted to be close to him. You didn’t realize that your presence, something you thought was innocent, had been smothering him. But hearing it from him so bluntly… it felt like a punch to the gut.

You said nothing at first. Your body was stiff, your eyes filled with unshed tears. You wanted to say something, but the words would not come out. Instead, you simply turned slowly and began to walk away. "I'll go," you said softly, your voice barely audible. Your steps were wobbly as you approached the exit. Changbin turned around, his heart sinking into his chest. It hit him, followed by the look in your eyes. Your lips quivered. He realized what he had just said. The frustration and fury had been misplaced. He didn't mean to hurt you. He wasn't trying to make you feel unwanted. But it was too late now. The damage was done.

“Y/N—wait!” he called after you, but it was no use. You didn’t even turn around. You just kept walking, your back stiff, your steps hurried.

hyunjin

(a/n: you and hyunjin aren’t a couple here, you’re childhood best friends)

The after-party had been buzzing with energy all night, full of celebration and the kind of chaotic, joyful atmosphere that followed every successful concert. It was supposed to be a moment of relief, a chance to let go of the weight of the stage and just relax with friends. You, however, couldn’t seem to shake off the knot of tension that had been growing inside you for weeks.

It hadn’t been an abrupt change, not really. Hyunjin, your best friend, had slowly started to become distant. At first, it was subtle, a shift in the way he looked at you, the way he barely seemed to notice when you were around. But now, it had become glaringly obvious, especially in moments like this, when you found yourself desperately trying to keep the connection you two had built over the years.

You’d always been there for him, supporting him through everything the highs and the lows. But lately, whenever you tried to lean on him, he pulled away. The distance between you had begun to feel insurmountable, and tonight, surrounded by the group at the after-party, it felt like the final straw.

You felt an odd, uncomfortable pull as soon as you walked inside the party. The sight of Hyunjin laughing with the rest of the group should have made you happy, but instead it made your chest tighten with anxiety. He looked... unusual. His eyes, the way they avoided yours, made it clear that something had changed between you two. You despised the sense of being on the outside, like you didn't belong anymore.

You had tried to give him his space during the last few weeks, respecting the growing distance between you. But tonight, you were determined to be present. To pretend as if everything was still fine.

After all, you were his best friend, right?

You moved over to where he was sitting, talking with Seungmin and Jeongin. When they saw you approaching, Jeongin's face lit up with that warm, welcome smile that always put you at at ease. He gave you a warm nod and motioned for you to join them, which you immediately did, thinking that the familiarity of the situation could help the uneasiness that had begun to settle over you. But once you sat down, Hyunjin's tone changed. His eyes flicked across to you for a quick, unreadable look before returning to the others. You tried not to take it personally, but it hurt. Jeongin was chatting animatedly about something, but you couldn't pay attention. All you could think about was how Hyunjin had practically turned his back on you.

After a few moments, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You leaned closer to Hyunjin, trying to keep your tone light, as if everything were normal. “Hey, Hyunjin... you good? You’ve seemed off lately.”

He looked at you, his expression suddenly sharp. “I’m fine,” he replied quickly, and there was a coldness to his voice that cut through you like ice.

You didn’t know what to say. You had always been able to talk through things before, but now it seemed like he didn’t even want to acknowledge you. You tried again, your voice trembling just slightly, “I’m just checking in... I’ve noticed you’ve been a little distant.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, as if he were irritated with you asking. “You’re always around,” he said, his voice laced with annoyance. “I don’t need you following me everywhere. It’s annoying.”

The words hit you like a slap. You froze, the weight of his comment sinking deep into your chest. You had no idea where this was coming from. You had always been there for him, not because you needed to be, but because you cared about him. You wanted to be there. But now, suddenly, it felt like you were an inconvenience.

The room felt suffocating, the noise of the party growing distant as you tried to process what he had just said. You had always been careful not to smother him, always tried to give him space. But now he was telling you that your presence, your very existence, was too much for him.

It was too much.

The lump in your throat grew, but you weren’t going to let him see you falter. You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over, but you couldn’t stop the rush of emotions that came flooding to the surface. You had tried so hard to be understanding, to be patient, but this was too much to handle.

Before you could say anything more, you snapped. “You know what, Hyunjin? I’m not following you around,” your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and frustration. “I’m only here because Felix invited me. As his date.”

The words hung in the air, sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. You could feel the sting of betrayal, the way Hyunjin had made you feel small, and the anger bubbled up inside you. The room grew quiet for a moment, everyone’s attention now focused on the exchange.

You didn’t look at Hyunjin. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned on your heel, your pulse pounding in your ears, and walked straight to Felix, who was standing nearby. He gave you a surprised glance, but he didn’t ask questions. He simply wrapped an arm around you as you sat next to him, offering you a comforting presence in the midst of your emotional storm.

You didn't speak for a time, your thoughts racing from the argument, but Felix didn't press you to explain. He just let you sit there in peace, his arm resting comfortably on your shoulder. You leaned into him, attempting to center yourself and escape the overpowering pain that threatened to consume you whole. Felix did not deserve to bear the burden of your wounded heart, but in that time, his comfort was the only thing that made sense.

Hyunjin's gaze stayed fixed on you as the party went on. But you refused to look his direction. He'd already made it apparent that your presence no longer mattered to him. He had driven you away with his hurtful words, and as much as it pained you to admit it, you knew deep down that it was too late to fix things.

The rest of the night was a blur. You couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, about how he had made you feel so small, so insignificant. The person who had once been your best friend, who had always been there for you, was now the one who had cast you aside. And the worst part was that you didn’t even know why.

As the party wound down and everyone began to leave, you stayed close to Felix, not looking back, not wanting to face Hyunjin. You didn’t know what had changed between you two, or why he had suddenly decided that your friendship wasn’t worth his time. All you knew was that the person who had once been your closest confidant, the one who knew all your secrets and fears, had just torn your heart apart.

And you didn’t know how to fix it.

HAN

The evening began like any other, or so it was supposed to be. But Jisung felt as if the world was pushing down on him with every step he made into the apartment. The intensity of the day still clung to him, like a physical weight of frustration, disappointment, and tiredness. He had spent hours in the meeting with the company staff, only to hear criticism for the smallest mistakes and missteps. It wasn't the first time, but it always hurt. This time, however, it seemed different; he couldn't shake the nagging sense of inadequacy.

The door clicked behind him, and the familiar aroma of home didn't bring much comfort. Instead, it was almost smothering. His limbs ached, his mind raced, and all he needed was peace, time to unwind.

But you were there.

You always were.

As soon as he walked through the door, your eyes searched his face, and he could see the concern etched over your features. He could tell you'd sensed something was wrong. He attempted to disguise it when he saw you earlier that day, brushing off your "are you okay?" with a quick "yeah, I'm fine," but now, as you stood there with that sweet look in your eyes, he couldn't help but see it. You could look right through him, like glass.

"Jisung," you said quietly, your voice carrying the gentle tone you always used when you knew he was struggling, "are you sure you're okay? You don’t look okay."

It wasn’t the first time you’d asked. You'd been asking since the moment he came home, like you always did when you saw him worn down, like you always did when he looked like he was holding a little too much in. But no matter how well you meant it, no matter how much you truly cared about him, he just didn’t want to talk about it. Not today. Not tonight.

"I’m fine," he muttered, his tone dismissive, but you could hear the edge in his voice.

You hesitated, eyes scanning him again, sensing the distance between his words and the tension in his body.

"Jisung… I know you’re not fine," you said softly, a frown pulling at your lips. You reached toward him, wanting to bridge the gap that was widening between you, but he stepped back before you could touch him.

"I’m fine," he repeated, louder this time, irritation lacing his voice. "Just stop asking."

Your heart twisted, but you tried to swallow the hurt, not wanting to push him further. But you couldn’t stop yourself from trying again, desperate to get him to open up. "Please, I can tell something’s wrong. If you need to talk, I’m here."

He froze at that, hands clenched at his sides, jaw clenched. His frustration, the irritation that had been building inside him all day, finally cracked open.

"I said I'm fine!" He snapped, his voice sharp, his eyes burning with anger, not at you, but at the world that had worn him down. "Why are you always so clingy? It's annoying. I do not need you hovering over me like this. I don't need you constantly keeping tabs on me!" The words were biting and nasty. You trembled, a flood of hurt smashing over you, but you tried to stay calm.

You couldn't help but feel the sting of dismissal and the weight of his harshness. "I'm just trying to help you," you said softly, your voice quivering slightly. "I just want to make sure that you're okay. Why don't you let me help?"

He glanced at you, the spark of guilt in his eyes swiftly drowned out by the a flood of frustration within him. He opened his mouth and nothing came out. He wanted to apologize. He knew he hurt you. But the words did not come, and he had no idea how to make it right. He didn't know how to ask for what he wanted when everything inside him felt like it was about to come apart.

You did not wait for him to say anything. The anger, bewilderment, and hurt welled up in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you turned on your heel and marched out, your footsteps loud and strong as you made your way to the bedroom.

The door slammed behind you, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence. You sank onto the bed, feeling the weight of the frustration both his and yours press down on your chest like a suffocating blanket.

You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t want to feel this way. You had only wanted to help him. To be there for him when he was struggling. But all he had done was push you away.

You heard no footsteps, no soft knock on the door. Normally, when something like this happened, he would come after you. He would apologize, his voice soft and regretful, and you’d make up. He’d say something about how it wasn’t you, how he was just having a hard time. But this time, the silence stretched on. The door stayed closed.

It wasn’t long before you realized he wasn’t coming.

The silence felt so loud, so suffocating, and it only made everything hurt more. He wasn’t here to apologize. He wasn’t here to soothe you like he always did.

And maybe this time it wasn't all about him. Maybe it was more than simply his tiredness and irritation. Maybe it was about something deeper, something more than just a bad day at work. Your heart broke at the thought that he might have pushed you away because he didn't know how to accept you. Maybe he'd been hiding his pain for so long because he was frightened to show you the parts of himself he thought were too shattered. Maybe he was just too stressed to recognize that you weren't a burden, but rather someone who wanted to help him shoulder the weight.

But right now, none of that mattered. What mattered was that he had called you clingy, had pushed you away when all you wanted was to hold him close.

You curled up in bed, hugging your knees to your chest, and tried not to cry.

You didn’t hear him come in, but you felt the weight of the bed shift beside you. Jisung’s presence was always so familiar, so warm, but tonight it felt distant. He didn’t touch you. He didn’t say anything. He just sat there, in the darkness, as the minutes dragged on.

And you, as much as it hurt, didn’t know if you could ask him again if he was okay. Not yet. Not until he was ready to admit that he wasn’t.

felix

It had been one of those days where everything seemed strange, as if a thin film of tension had been applied to the edges of everything you did. The kind of day where even the most basic tasks felt significant, and no matter how hard you tried to make things feel normal, you couldn't escape the growing distance. Maybe you chalked it up to stress. Maybe it was just a phase. Everyone goes through a hard stretch, right? But when you woke in the middle of the night, your hand instinctively going for the warm spot beside you, only to find it empty, that emotion became too strong to ignore. Felix had always been the one to stay close, even in sleep. He was always so attentive to your needs, so present. But now, the space between you was cold, and the bed felt too large without him there.

You sat up, the quiet of the room pressing in on you, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you swung your legs off the side of the bed. The soft glow of the TV in the living room flickered across the hallway, casting long shadows.

As you made your way down the hall, you saw him there, slumped on the couch, his eyes fixed on the screen but unseeing, staring at it like it held some answer that he couldn’t quite grasp. You could see the strain in his posture, the weight of something pressing on him, but he didn't acknowledge you as you approached.

You stopped a few feet away, unsure what to say. The silence between you two felt like a wall, immovable and unbreakable. This wasn't the Felix you knew, the one who would always offer a comforting smile or an encouraging word when you needed it. This version of him was remote and frigid, as if he built a fortress and did not plan to let anyone in.

"Felix," you whispered slowly, trying not to shock him, your voice trembling with emotion. "What's wrong?"

He didn’t respond at first, as if he hadn’t heard you, or maybe he just didn’t want to answer. The minutes dragged on, each second feeling like it added more distance between you two. Finally, when he spoke, his voice was low and strained, and it hit you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“Nothing,” he muttered, though it was clear that wasn’t true. His words didn’t match the heaviness in the air, the emptiness that had settled between you two. “Just… leave me alone, okay?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Leave him alone? You didn’t understand. Since when had he ever asked you for space, especially like this? Felix had always been the one to reach out, to comfort you, to be the one you could lean on when things got tough. But now, he was shutting you out, pushing you away.

You stood there, paralyzed, staring at the back of his head as the emptiness in the room seemed to swallow you whole. His posture was stiff, almost defensive, like he was trying to make himself smaller, trying to hide from you, and it hurt more than you ever expected.

"You don't have to be so clingy all the time," he said, his voice more clipped and distant than you'd ever heard. It was as if the words were spoken by someone else, a stranger in the body of the person you loved.

Clingy? The word resonated in your thoughts, sending you reeling. You'd never considered yourself clingy. Have you really gotten so annoying? Was your affection and presence too much for him? You couldn't understand it. The connection, the intimacy that had once been so natural between you two now seemed so far away, as if it were a dream you couldn't fathom.

“I just…” Your voice faltered, and you took a shaky breath, willing yourself not to cry, not to show him just how much his words had wounded you. “I just wanted to know what’s wrong. You’re… you’re not like this, Felix. Not with me.”

You took a tentative step forward, hoping that your proximity would reach him, that your presence would somehow break through the wall he had built around himself. But he didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge you, and that hurt more than anything else. It was the silence, the refusal to face you, that felt like a betrayal.

"Please talk to me," you whispered, your heart breaking as you watched him remain motionless on the couch, his eyes still fixed on the television, as though he could pretend you weren’t even there.

But Felix didn’t respond. Instead, he kept his focus on the screen, the distant expression on his face more painful than any argument. You could feel the distance between you growing, spreading like a chasm, and it felt like you were standing at the edge, about to fall into the void.

It wasn't always this way, you thought, recalling times when simply being in the same room was enough to make you feel connected. It seemed as if you blinked and everything had changed. He wasn't the same Felix who would stay up with you when you were feeling sad, holding you and whispering comfort in the darkness. The man who had once looked at you with warmth and love now seemed so distant, like a stranger you didn't recognize.

Your heart ached; the anguish of losing him, feeling him slide through your fingers, was almost excruciating. You could not tolerate the deafening stillness between you any longer.

With a last, desperate glance at him, you whispered, “I’m here, Felix. I’m always here for you. If you need space, if you need time, I’ll give it to you. But I just… I just need to know you’re okay.”

But he didn't respond and didn't move. His silence hurt worse than words could, and you realized, with a sickening feeling, that you had no idea where you stood in his life. The Felix you knew, the Felix who would always reach out to you, seemed like a memory you could no longer grasp onto. You turned away, your feet feeling heavy as you walked back to the bedroom, the distance between you two becoming more than just physical.

The weight of his disinterest crushed against your chest, smothering you, and you wondered whether things would ever be the same again. Will he come to you eventually? Would he tell you about what was bothering him, or had you already lost him in ways you couldn’t fix?

You climbed back into bed, the sheets cold where he should have been beside you. And as the night stretched on in silence, you tried not to feel the unbearable emptiness that had settled in your heart, wondering if Felix would ever look at you the same way again.

seungmin

The front door creaked open, and you could hear Seungmin's footsteps in the hallway, dragging slightly, indicating how exhausted he must have been after a long day of practice and vocal lessons. You'd been waiting for him, possibly too eagerly, though you tried not to admit it. You had planned to talk, the conversation you'd been putting off for days because the silence had gotten unbearable. The subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he became more distant and engaged in his own world, weighed heavy on your chest.

You knew how busy he was, how much work he put into his training and craft. But it didn't take away the sting of feeling like an afterthought, as if you were no longer a part of his life. You had tried to keep it together, to give him his space when he needed it, but the continual feeling of being neglected was gradually pulling you apart. You needed him to see you. You needed him to care the way he used to, to put forth the same effort that you did.

So, as the door clicked shut and you heard him move toward the kitchen, you braced yourself and entered the hallway to greet him.

"Seungmin," you called softly, but there was no immediate response. He didn’t even look up, didn’t even glance in your direction.

You took a breath, trying to keep the anxiety from choking you. "Can we talk?" Your voice was steady, though you could feel the tremor beneath it. "It feels like we’re not the same anymore."

His footsteps faltered for half a second, and you thought maybe you had caught his attention. But instead of stopping, he just continued walking past you, brushing past your shoulder so closely you could feel the coldness radiating off him. He didn’t even spare you a glance.

"Seungmin," you said again, but this time there was a little crack in your voice, a vulnerability you didn't want to express. You needed him to hear and see you, even if just for a moment. But he did not stop. Finally, he gave a low, exasperated groan that hung between you like a wall. He turned halfway, his eyes flickering to you with an enigmatic expression. "Why do you always make things so dramatic?" His comments were harsh, cutting through the silence and making you flinch. "You're really clingy. Just leave me alone for once."

The words were like a punch to the gut. The force of them knocked the wind out of you, and your heart seemed to stop for just a moment, trapped somewhere in the space between your chest and throat. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected him to say something so cold, so dismissive. All you had wanted was to talk, to bridge the distance that had formed between you, but now it felt like you were drowning in it.

Your body went still. You opened your mouth to respond, to explain how unfair that was, but no words came. How could you even argue against that? How could you explain that all you wanted was his attention, his care? You weren’t clingy you were hurt.

"Seungmin, I’m not—" The words tumbled out weakly, but they didn’t seem to matter.

"You are," he interrupted, his tone now flat, distant. "I don’t have the energy for this right now."

He turned away from you, heading toward the kitchen without another glance, leaving you standing in the hallway, shattered.

You stood there for a long moment, frozen in the aftermath of his words. Everything you had been holding back, all the frustration, the confusion, the loneliness that had built up over the last few weeks, was suddenly crashing down on you like a wave. Was that it? Was that all you were to him now? Someone who was too much to deal with?

You had never felt so small. So invisible.

You had tried to keep it together. You had told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, that he was just stressed, that he didn’t mean it. But now, standing there in the hallway with nothing but the echo of his dismissal ringing in your ears, you realized that maybe this was the problem the distance. The lack of communication. The feeling that no matter how hard you tried, you could never reach him, never get him to understand what you needed, what you were hurting from.

You wanted to chase after him, to try again, to make him see how much his words had stung. But something inside of you had broken. There was a voice inside you now that said, "It’s too late. You’ve tried. He doesn’t want to listen." And that was more painful than anything else knowing that, deep down, he didn’t even want to meet you halfway anymore.

You had hoped, and even prayed, that things would return to normal, that the love you once shared would reemerge. But standing there, you couldn't help but feel as if you were fighting a losing war. You didn't ask for much: simply his time, presence, and devotion. You never expected this level of coldness in return.

The silence in the home became intolerable, and each second felt like a weight on your chest. You wanted to yell at him and urge him to care, but all you could do was stand there, feeling the barriers between you two grow higher and higher.

You turned away slowly, your legs heavy, your head spinning with everything you had just heard. You didn’t know what hurt more: his words or the fact that he had walked past you like you were nothing.

You needed him to care, but right now, it felt like the person you needed was already gone.

I.N

The evening had been everything you hoped it would be: thrilling, warm, and full of laughing. You'd been dating Jeongin for about a year, and he was finally introducing you to his members. It seemed like an important milestone in your relationship. You'd heard so much about them, and now you'd get to meet the people he cared about the most. The anticipation had you beaming all evening as you helped Jeongin in cooking dinner, your heart filled with delight at the prospect of cooking together and spending time with the people who were such an important part of his life.

The dinner had gone smoothly. The atmosphere was cozy, filled with the sound of happy chatter and the clinking of silverware. The members were friendly, teasing each other and joking around. You could see why Jeongin was so close with them they were like brothers, comfortable and at ease with each other. You had felt so welcomed by them, their laughter contagious, and the food you had helped prepare had been met with praises.

As the night wore on, everyone settled into the living room, enjoying sweet treats and wine. It was the perfect end to a perfect evening, or so you had thought.

But as the evening wore on, you noticed something that made your stomach churn. Jeongin was distant. He had been quieter than normal, with his focus wandering. Normally, he would be the first to steal a kiss from you or press his hand on yours if you were close. But tonight? Tonight, it felt as if he was purposefully keeping distance between the two of you.

You brushed it off at first, believing he was just weary or stressed after introducing you to everyone. After all, meeting his members was a major step, and maybe he was just concerned with making sure things went smoothly.

But it wasn’t just that.

When you leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, like you had done numerous times before without thinking twice, he pulled away almost immediately. The action was swift and sharp, as if you had done something wrong. You blinked in surprise, a frown tugging on your lips, but before you could ask what was wrong, he mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear, "Stop being so clingy." The words struck you like a physical punch. You froze, the warmth of your feelings for him vanished, replaced by a frigid knot of perplexity and embarrassment. Did he mean it? You could feel the weight of the members' gazes as you looked around the room, though no one said anything. But you could tell they had heard, the awkward silence that followed making it painfully clear.

You felt heat rising up your cheeks, humiliated. Had you overstepped? You had never been clingy before and had never thought of yourself in that way. But his comments, which were cutting and contemptuous, hurt more than you wanted to acknowledge. The casual tenderness you had always shared seemed like a distant memory today, a bitter reminder of how things had changed without warning.

Jeongin had always been so warm and tactile with you. Kisses on your cheek while cooking, his arm slung over your shoulder while watching TV, all the little things that made you feel safe and cherished. But tonight? Tonight he was a different person.

You tried to ignore it, thinking maybe it was a bad moment. Perhaps he was just tired, or maybe something had happened at work or with the members that was weighing on him. But as the night continued, the distance between you only seemed to grow. When you tried to brush your hand against his, he pulled it away, a small frown on his face. When you tried to rest your head on his shoulder again, he shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your touch with a small sigh.

It was as if you were a stranger to him, someone he couldn’t stand to be close to.

Your heart dropped. It was a feeling you never expected to have with him, the type of coldness that made you question everything, including the entire foundation of your relationship. You had no idea what was going on in his mind, but the way he was treating you now felt so different from the Jeongin you had fell for.

You excused yourself to the restroom, needing a moment to collect your thoughts and prevent yourself from entirely disintegrating. The quiet hum of the talk in the living room followed you as you walked back, the members' voices merging into the background as your thoughts occupied you.

Was he angry with you? Had you done something wrong? Maybe he was embarrassed by you, by your clinginess. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen as the guy who couldn’t control his girlfriend. Maybe you were being too needy, too dependent, and he just couldn’t handle it anymore. Maybe he had changed, and you were the one who had failed to notice.

You stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm the tightness in your chest. When you returned to the living room, you tried to smile, to pretend like everything was fine. But the look on Jeongin’s face when you came back made your stomach twist even further. He didn’t smile at you like he usually did. He didn’t reach for you. He just sat there, a distance between you that felt like an ocean.

You sat down again, feeling smaller than you had with him before. You did not want to confront him in front of the other members. Not when things were going so well. You didn't want to ruin the evening or make things uncomfortable for everyone. But the awkwardness was already there. It seemed like a thick cloud suffocating you, and you knew he felt the same way.

Eventually, the evening came to an end. The group began saying their goodbyes, laughing and conversing, although their voices were scarcely audible. You were too consumed by the subtle tension between you and Jeongin, who hadn't spoken anything to you since your previous conversation. You gently grabbed your stuff, not quite meeting his eyes.

When you reached the door, Jeongin still hadn’t moved. He was standing by the couch, talking to one of the members, completely ignoring you. It wasn’t how you thought it would go. This wasn’t how you imagined the night would end.

It wasn’t until you were halfway out the door that he finally spoke, his voice distant, flat. "You okay?" he asked, as if the tension between you hadn’t been there all evening.

You stood frozen, looking back at him, your chest tight. You wanted to say so many things. You wanted to ask why he was acting this way, to demand an explanation, to tell him how hurt you were by the way he had dismissed you. But you didn’t. Instead, you forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes.

"Yeah," you replied softly, your voice quiet, strained. "I’m fine."

And then you stepped out, leaving the apartment behind, the discomfort and uncertainty lingering in the air like a thick cloud. You had no idea what had happened or what had caused this abrupt change, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something in your relationship had just broken. Something that might not be fixable.

And as the door clicked shut behind you, you weren't sure if Jeongin noticed.

//

(proofread ❌)

masterlist

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Cooper Adams x Reader • Includes themes of violence, murder, blood is mentioned often, period sex, infidelity, oral sex (m&f receiving) Reader and Cooper are both certified freaks seven days a week

You’d suspected for awhile.

You’d wondered even longer.

The question you’d wanted to ask Cooper had sat silent on your tongue so long, you’d have sworn you could taste it by now.

Even still, no amount of wondering could have prepared you for this moment: standing face to blood-streaked face with the man you loved, the question on your tongue quietly dying as it no longer needed answering-

Cooper Adams, your boyfriend, was The Butcher…

He stood still, lingering in the doorway, the one at the back of the house. Cooper had brought you here a couple of times, to smoke and fuck; and each time, he’d always brought you through that door, the one less likely to draw attention from neighbors. The house was isolated, but not completely. With Cooper being a married man, you’d understood his concerns and hadn’t objected to being brought in through the back of the house. Now however, it was obvious that he used the back door to conceal a much darker secret than his infidelity.

His left eye twitched, lips forced into a placating smile that chilled you to your core. “(Y/N)?” Cooper began, his voice wavering. “What are you doing here?” You swallowed as cracks in Cooper’s fake smile began to reveal themselves. Heavy rain pelted the ground behind him, lightning briefly illuminating his silhouette, tall and intimidating. He tightened his grip on the duffel bag slung over his shoulder; the sudden movement made you flinch, which Cooper found amusing.

Blood caked his jeans and the plaid flannel button-down he wore. His hair was tossed to the sides of his face, except for a few strands that seemed to be matted against his forehead with sweat. Cooper’s jaw was tight, the muscles in his neck flexing as he chewed the inside of his mouth, thinking. He’d have to get rid of you now, and that upset him. Cooper had enjoyed you, and not just fucking you. He’d grown fond of your dark sense of humor and the way both your mind and his seemed to play well with each other.

If he was being totally honest with himself, Cooper could even admit that he loved you. He’d confided in you, shared secrets of his past, his traumatic upbringing, the way he’d never been accepted by his mother or anyone else for that matter, until meeting his wife. And later, meeting you.

Your histories and minds were similar, in so many ways. Unfortunately, you’d proven yourself too clever for your own good…too clever to keep alive.

Cooper sighed, his insincere smile returning. “This is going to hurt,” he said, nodding for emphasis. “I mean that, (Y/N).” He took a step toward you; you shifted backward. “And I’m not even talking about the pain,” he continued. “Not the kind you’ll feel…” Cooper removed something from the bag, his eyes fixed on yours. It took you a second to identify the knife in his hand; it was so caked with partially-dried blood, you could barely make out what it was.

“…I’m talking about the pain I’ll feel,” Cooper continued, bringing the soiled knife to rest against his chest. “Here…in my heart.” He kicked his heel against the door, closing it behind him with a loud thud. You jumped, recoiling at the sound. Cooper held his hands tensed at his sides, the knife tucked under his right thumb. “I don’t want to lose you,” he said, taking another step closer. You didn’t back away this time; your mind was racing for a solution, for a way to make Cooper understand that killing you wasn’t necessary.

“Then don’t,” you told him, trying to sound brave. You hoped he couldn’t see you trembling, couldn’t hear the plea in your next words even as you tried to suppress it: “Don’t kill me, Cooper…”

His expression was bittersweet, a resigned sigh leaving his chest. “They all say that,” Cooper told you, his voice eerily calm. “None of them want to die, (Y/N). They all beg me not to kill them.” He changed his voice to a slightly higher pitch, imitating his victims. “ ‘Don’t kill me, please…I’ll do anything, please…Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone’ .” Cooper’s free hand shot out and grabbed you by the wrist, tugging you into him, erasing the remaining space between you. “What makes you think you’re any different from the rest of the people I’ve murdered?” he glared down at you.

A tear rolled down your cheek, so hot it burned. “I’m different because I love you, Cooper,” you told him. And you meant it. His grip on your wrist softened immediately, the tension in his jaw easing. “I don’t care that you’re The Butcher, or whatever stupid nickname they’ve given you,” you continued. “I accept you. Cooper, I love you.” A few seconds passed in silence. “Have any of the others ever said that?”

Cooper’s eyebrows were drawn together in concentration as he wrestled with the conflicting messages inside him. One said to protect himself by ending your life. The second option was much more tempting for Cooper, to grant you the mercy of life, a privilege which he alone now held.

Cooper pressed his lips to the top of your head, his knife ghosting your cheek as he used the hand that held it to stroke your hair. His breath was heavy, his chest rumbling against your cheek as he spoke. “What am I going to do with you?” Cooper asked. It wasn’t a question at all, not really. You lifted your chin, eyes fixed on Cooper’s, tilting your head so the blade in his hand was deliberately primed against your throat. An offering up, not of surrender, but of submission. He’d seen his share of tears, heard more than enough screams to fill his ears a lifetime; but the way your resistance melted in front of him touched something in Cooper that hadn’t been touched in a long time, if ever. Faced with the darkest part of his soul, you still accepted him.

You placed a hand tentatively on Cooper’s forearm, where the sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbows. While his hands were clean from wearing gloves, Cooper’s forearms were spattered with blood, a viscous crimson syrup drying in the tufts of hair lining his skin. He repeated his question, a huskier, seductive tone making his meaning crystal clear: “…what am I going to do with you?”

Cooper released his grip on the knife. It fell to the floor with a clatter, as lightning lit up the room, thunder rumbling close by. He was bent forward slightly so your foreheads could touch, his eyes drifting closed as you smoothed your hands across his broad shoulders. Warm breath dusted your neck as Cooper’s kiss traveled down the slope of your shoulder, his big hands securing you in place at the small of your back. The energy between you was electric, buzzing like an alarm whose warning you refused to heed. You were in too deep, now. With Cooper, you always had been.

He began to work the buttons of his flannel undone, as you went down to your knees. You looked up at Cooper from between his feet, his heavy boots caked with mud and grass from the storm outside. Lightning struck very close to the house; the lights flickered as thunder bellowed from above. And then, the room went dark, moonlight alone providing any visual for the two of you.

Cooper was unaffected by the loss of electricity. He folded his shirt and set it aside, hands moving to undo his belt and jeans. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness quickly; you were able to make out the image of Cooper, his hulking frame towering over yours, stray strands of hair fallen forward as he watched you at his feet. You were on your knees in front of The Butcher himself, and it felt…exhilarating. Rather than making a plea for your life, your tongue was gently pleading for his sex, padding thick and wet against the outline of Cooper’s erection.

He tugged his zipper down and freed his cock, the wet tip tapping against your lips in the darkness. You felt Cooper’s hand come to rest atop your head, his fingers knotting softly inside your hair, guiding you gently onto him. The only sounds in the room were Cooper’s shallow breaths and grunts, and the wet sucking sound of your throat closing around him. Cooper let you suck him a moment longer, before removing his cock from your mouth, breathily explaining “-the shower, baby-want to fuck you in the shower.” He felt around the floor for his duffel bag and retrieved a flashlight from inside it. Switching it on, Cooper smiled when he saw your streaked makeup in the light, knowing his cock had made a mess of it. He held the flashlight between his teeth and trotted upstairs with you, using the beam to light your way.

The bathroom in its entirety wasn’t that large but thankfully, the shower was. Cooper switched on the faucet and held his arm under the water stream to check the temperature, bits of dried blood re-wetting and dripping to the shower floor. You’d quickly discarded your own clothes and stepped inside, around the water stream till Cooper had adjusted it. He shed his pants and hastily folded them before tossing them onto the sink. He was in a hurry; he’d never wanted you this badly before.

The flashlight’s battery was almost dead, its last real bit of power used on the way upstairs. Now, you and Cooper were essentially in complete darkness again, except for the moonlight threading through the small bathroom window. Cooper had no trouble manipulating your body in the darkness. His right hand slipped immediately between your thighs, reaching around with his other arm and pulling your chest into his. Warm water cascaded down Cooper’s back and shoulders, dripping along his chest and between your breasts where your bodies were pressed together. His fingers rubbed rough circles over your clit, making your hips buck into the heel of his palm as you selfishly chased your climax. “That’s a good girl,” Cooper murmured in the darkness, his breath labored with arousal. “Gonna come for me just like this, yeah?” You whimpered a reply, but Cooper wasn’t satisfied. “Oh, you can do better than that, sweetheart,” he said. “Use your words. Tell me how you’re gonna come-.” He dipped his head forward, teeth catching the soft skin of your neck and biting just enough to make you squirm even more wildly on his hand. “Ungh-on-oh!” you squeaked, your hips trembling. “-On your h-hand, S-Sir!”

Cooper’s face was stoic but satisfied in the darkness; he was in his element, his happy place. He was in control. As you quivered and shook on his hand cupping your pussy, Cooper slid his other hand around your throat, briefly silencing your scramble of moans and whimpers. “WORDS, baby,” he gently reprimanded, his fingertips tapping against your pulse. “Can’t give you what you want till you ask for it-.”

Cooper slipped a finger between your lips, hooking around the smooth spot inside you, your spongy walls sucking his finger greedily. Your head fell backward, a string of desperate pleas tumbling from your mouth, interspersed with Cooper’s name. He let you come, giving you what you needed because you’d asked for it so nicely. You gushed all over Cooper’s hand and wrist, slick spilling between his fingers and onto the shower floor. He couldn’t see it in the darkness, and he didn’t need to; he could feel your blood on his fingers, knew the texture well and that your orgasm had surely painted the shower floor red at his feet.

He removed his finger from inside you, once you’d stopped squeezing it, and popped the slippery digit inside his mouth. A coppery, musky flavor sank warm on his tastebuds; Cooper exhaled gratefully through his nose, releasing his finger only after sucking every drop of you from it.

Lightning crackled above the house as Cooper lowered himself to his knees in front of you. You rested your hands on his shoulders, leaning into his sturdy frame as he sank his mouth between your legs. Cooper’s tongue found exactly what he’d hoped to find, what he craved…more of your sweet arousal tinged with the bitter tang of fresh blood.

You knew you were bleeding; your period had started that morning. You also knew that Cooper had a preference for fucking you on your period; you’d just never really thought much of it. The truth was, the blood aroused Cooper, reminded him of his other, secret life, and the power he held over others. Seeing himself covered in someone else’s blood, especially such intimate places like his cock, helped Cooper achieve the most powerful orgasms imaginable. It’s one of the reasons he’d grown to love you; your openness to trying literally anything sexually was liberating, allowing Cooper the chance to indulge his most taboo fantasies. One of those fantasies included eating you out on your period. He’d tried to bring other women around to the idea, but each of them had been repulsed by even the suggestion. You, however, had no reservations about letting Cooper use your body however he wanted, in whatever state it was in…

His tongue bathed your outer lips, licking them clean. Cooper massaged his cock in lazy strokes, in no hurry to come just yet. When the tip of his tongue pressed inside you, he grinned against your pussy at the way your soft, wet entrance trembled around him.

One of your hands was now on Cooper’s head, fingers locked in the strands of his hair. When he hoisted your leg over his left shoulder, you braced yourself against him, knowing he wouldn’t let you fall. Cooper held you steady as he nuzzled and lapped your essence, his eyes closed in a kind of reverent, trance-like high. It was the closest Cooper had ever come to a religious experience, drinking your most precious offering at the altar of your thighs, and for him, it was more than enough.

When he’d made you come twice more on his tongue, Cooper rose to stand, pressing red kisses to your belly and breasts that looked like lipstick marks. He reached for you in the darkness, his hands pulling your hips closer. You felt Cooper’s erection prodding between your thighs, and closed your hands around it. He hissed in a sharp breath as you grazed his tip; he was so sensitive, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Get on your knees,” Cooper panted urgently, his hand on your head pushing you downward. You sank to the shower floor, letting Cooper guide his cock into your mouth in the darkness. Lightning flashed outside, briefly revealing his blood-soaked lips parted in desperation, his eyes fixed on you at his feet while he used your mouth for his own satisfaction.

Cooper finished down your throat with a growl, his stomach tense as hot streams of cum pulsed over your tongue. You swallowed his seed with a contented grin, humming softly around Cooper’s shaft as you tugged the last drops of his cum between your lips.

The water continued to pour over your bodies as Cooper cradled you against his chest, rocking you gently. In that moment, he almost regretted his decision, almost thought of changing his mind. But there was no sense in getting sloppy after all these years, after so long a run of keeping his secret life secret.

Cooper glanced at the bathroom sink. A thin sliver of moonlight cast onto the knife you hadn’t noticed him bring upstairs along with the flashlight. He pressed his lips to your forehead one last time in a silent kiss goodbye, and reached toward the sink…

[anemos-orca]

The Harbingers Cat

Balladeer x neko!reader smut, MDNI

cw: smut, female reader, reader is the Balladeers loyal assistant, reader draws NSFW, humiliation, fantasizing, probably more qwq

Series Tag: #▪︎HarbingersCat

NSFW under "keep reading"

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Being the assistant (and a neko one at that) of the 6th Fatui Harbinger was not an easy job, but you couldnt deny how much you enjoyed your work. Despite how you sometimes slipped up or were given a shocking flick of electro for doodling on the job, working under the Balladeers direct command was, to say the least, fulfilling. He tasked you with medial jobs that were "below him" such as paperwork, greeting new cadets, and cleaning his workspace. You found pride in your work and were eager to please, each subtle word of praise murmured by your higher up fueling you into wanting more and more. It was such a rare thing that, whenever it did happen, it was like all your hard work paid off and you were rewarded with something worth more than mora itself- i mean, who gets praised by the Balladeer??

Scaramouche was amused by you and your strange willingness to do anything he asked. Sometimes he would make up a "job" so rediculous, it felt painfully obvious how fake it was- but still, you never questioned him. If for the sake of not having to sift through countless morons, Scaramouche could brush off your stupid little mistakes and your gross habit of doodling. Though, as time passed, he noticed that you were beginning to act... peculiarly. He would catch you mimicing his expressions, the way he walked, the way he talked- he couldnt deny how pathetically adorable it was. His little neko assistant bossing a cadet around just like how he would, only to turn around with a cute, satisfied smile (despite your efforts to contain the satisfaction of successfully copying your boss) like a kid who managed to learn how to make a sandwich just by watching their mom do it. He couldnt take you seriously, not with the way your fluffy little ears flinched away each time he snapped his fingers right next to them just to startle you. Not with how your tail would poof up in excitement at the most meaningless and fickle of things. Not with the way those stupidly expressive eyes of yours seemed to sparkle each time he would murmur the simplest of praises.

After even more time had passed, he would catch himself studying the little doodles you had made in days past- whenever you were being covered by some idiot who didnt know the first thing about being his assistant, they reminded him that he wouldnt have to deal with his medial tasks once you came back. He would never admit it, but he tended to be more annoyed with people on the days you were gone. He didnt understand the strange, relaxing effect you had on him, and it was irritating.

You werent a puppet like him, so being in lethally cold conditions all the time weakened your body just like it would any other mortal. Therefore, you were often given a couple days off every few weeks to recover. Scaramouche couldnt imagine what you could possibly be doing on the days you spent cooped up in your tiny room all alone, but he figured you just slept through it. Besides, mortal activities were not his concern.

However, that changed on the day you accidentally forgot your sketchbook in his office. You had already left- it was late and you finished filling out his paperwork for the day- but you didnt notice the precious item you left behind. Scaramouche knew how valuable it was to you, considering the fact that it was always in your little satchel and you never left it unattended, so it piqued his curiosity. Why was a sketchbook, of all things, your most valuable item? Such a stupid thing to do, to hold something so fragile and easily ruined at high value. Despite his subtle curiosity, he couldnt care less about what you did, owned, or carried, so he never demanded to inspect it. Though, given this perfect opportunity to quell his after-work boredom, he couldnt help but take a peek.

The Balladeer leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk with a relieved sigh, satisfied to have a moment of relaxation. He flipped the cover of your tattered sketchbook open and examined the first page, reading, "If lost, return to (y/n) at once. Inspection is strictly prohibited. Doing so will result in high punishment." He scoffed, imagining your stupid kitty ears flattening back in seriousness as you wrote. The first few pages after were filled with redundant doodles of the most random things- creatures, expressions, trees, a large amount of dogs and cats- but as he continued thumbing through, he began to see drawings of... himself? He narrowed his eyes and sat forward, raising a judgemental brow. They started out silly and cartoonish, but within the next few pages, he found well thought out, clean, almost realistic drawings of himself in quite the suggestive poses. He couldnt help but snicker, amused by the newfound knowledge of your apparent crush on him. The drawings of the next page were even more suggestive and lewd, but compared to what he flipped to after that, they seemed tame.

He had plans for that sketchbook. Imagining the mortified, humiliated, and impossibly embarrassed expressions youd make when he would reveal to you that he had seen the way you fantasized about his cock- the thoughts painted a sadistic smile across his face, and for the first time in a long time, he looked forward to starting a new day.

Scaramouches eyes widened and his amused expression grew as he laid eyes upon a completely pornographic drawing of himself that filled the entirety of the page- he was sitting in the very chair he sat in now, fisting his hardened cock, a scandalously pleasured expression spread over his face, and thick ropes of cum cascading over his desk. He had to admit, it was a good drawing, but all he could think about was the lustful expression and blushing cheeks you mustve had while creating such lewd art of your own boss. He wouldnt have guessed your massive crush on him even with your overly eager-to-please demeanor, only thinking his little neko assistant acted in such peculiar ways from vehement loyalty- and he found the idea to be rather entertaining. He finished flipping through your sketchbook, studying every nasty drawing you made of him and, in turn, began imagining his own dirty scenarios about making his secretly filthy assistant help him with more... physical tasks. It excited him, and he could feel his body heat up at the tought of it. Slyly chuckling to himself, the Balladeer shoved your sketchbook into the top drawer of his desk and left for the night, being sure to lock the door to his icy office so you couldnt sneak in and take back what was rightfully yours.

You, on the other hand, were not. The moment you set your satchel down in your little room, the lack of its familiar clunk sound due to your sketchbook being inside made your heart drop. You frantically searched every inch of your room, overturning and messing up every nook and cranny looking for that blasted sketchbook, but it was nowhere to be found. It was too late to go looking for it- it was past curfew, and if you were found snooping about, you would be punished and questioned. How could you possibly face another Fatui member and explain that, "Oh, im not being suspicious, dont worry! Im just desperately looking for my lost sketchbook that contains highly inappropriate art of the 6th Harbinger, my boss." You gulped hard, an overwhelming feeling of guilt creeping through your skin and into your bones as you remembered where it last was. His office. Your tail bristled and your mind began to race, panicing at the thought of what was going to happen tomorrow- surely he had seen it and flipped through the pages, infuriated that his stupid little kitty assistant was drawing porn of him. Was he going to kill you? Imprison you? Exile you to the fridgid wilds of your homeland? Archons, your heart had never beat so hard in your life. It felt like it was trying to escape your ribcage to run away and hide. However, no matter how much you stressed, there was nothing you could do except face the consequences of your actions in the morning. Your stupid, foolish actions.

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[amymbona]

I think about Ghostface Art and Patrick way too often (they are literally Billy and Stu).

Second attempt, finally. Tagging those who asked: @frnchgirls @vendetta-ari

TW: dubcon

Late October, a Halloween party, and somehow the two are not once seen together.

You're at somebody's house, a bunch of sticky, smelly teenagers surrounding the whole place. Alcohol is being passed around in red cups, people taking pictures in their costumes. And you're in the middle of the crowd, carefully watched by two pairs of eyes.

First, Patrick pulls you towards the dancefloor, the middle of the living room. Some boring pop music is playing in the background, but you don't care for how mainstream it sounds. Not when Patrick's body is pressed flush against yours and his big palms are groping your ass.

"You're so sexy tonight," he mumbles, lips finding their way to your ear. He licks a stripe up your jaw, teeth tugging onto your earlobe. "This fucking costume."

He's whispering naughty words in your ear, your costume is making it really hard for him to control himself. The tight fucking skirt, hugging your ass, and even tighter fucking top. Your tits are almost spilling out but you remain oblivious to being such a slut, far too gone to even adjust your clothing. Patrick almost wishes take tail hanging off of your ass was real and he could tug on it to draw a gasp from your mouth.

His boner is pressing against your crotch, getting you all worked up and hungry for something more. And his lips curve into a smirk when he manages to get you even tipsier (his annoying "just one more cup!" being the only reason why you won't stop drinking) and soon, he disappears.

You're in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with another red plastic cup resting on your lower lip, body lazily moving almost automatically to the beat of the music in the background. Soon, a familiar mop of blonde hair approaches.

"Hey kitten, enjoying yourself?" Art's arm wraps around your waist, lips pressing against the top of your head where the two fake ears stand up from your hair.

He lets your tipsy self lean against his own body, caressing your butt soothingly and loving the way you're all pliant and far too gone. You look a bit messy, quite a lot, actually, but he couldn't care less.

His presence is warm and soothing, a slight contrast to the drunk teenagers everywhere around you. Noticing the way your face scrunches uncomfortably at the loud laughter, he grabs your hand and beckons you to follow. You do, like an obedient little kitten.

You almost crawl up the stairs after Art, following him to one of the bedrooms, luckily an empty one. It's much calmer up there, gone from the high pitched pop music and annoying drunkards. When you, not holding back at all, lean in to kiss Art, he stops you and tells you to wait for a while. So you do, again, like a good girl.

Your feet carry you to a mirror where you take a small glance at your own self. Your clothes are all wrinkled, skirt pushed up (probably Patrick's fault) and the neckline of your top pulled too low so your red lace bra could be seen by anybody. What once was your lipstick is a mess, hair tangled and pupils blown wide. So sexy.

Too lost in the sight of yourself, you almost don't hear the world opening. Only when a tall figure, swallowed in a dark, flowy cloak shows up behind you, towering over your own reflection. Spinning around, you're met with a prolonged white mask, painted with a horrifying expression of something nightmarish. But you drunk self is incapable of feeling spooked.

You only snicker, stepping closer, feet dragging across the floor. "Art?"

But the person remains silent, just staring down at you through the mask. Completely motionless, dark eyes glued to your face.

"Patrick?" you try with another guess but, again, no response.

Only when the figure draws a knife, definitely not a plastic looking one, you gasp, swaying on your feet. Staggering backwards, as the figure being approaching you, you eventually land on the bed with nowhere to run. You hold your breath, cold shiver running down your spine as the figure traces a line down your jaw, tilting your chin up with the tip of the cold knife.

The masked stranger still doesn't speak, not even when he lowers himself down onto you, caging you under himself on the bed. Only his heavy breath could be heard, but you can never feel it hit your face through the mask, and you almost wish you could. You wish to know who this stranger is. Or perhaps not. Perhaps just to feel him.

As if he could sense the excitement spiraling around in your head, he slides one gloved hand under the tightness of your skirt that has already bunched up as the result of your slurred movement. Complete silence, only disturbed by a wet squelch and a gasp from your lips, brings a smile (not that you can see it) on his face.

"Slut."

Unfortunately, that single word only gets your pussy wetter.

You don't even care for the knife still resting under your chin, threatening to cut you pale skin with any wrong movement when the cold leather of his glove fully slides through your slick folds. It's cold and slightly harsh, enough to draw one more sigh from your mouth, and yet you become used to that sensation way too quickly.

Hypnotized by the screaming expression of the mask, you allow yourself to fully drop down, tangled curls spreading around your head like a halo, your eyes wider than possible. The still unknown man teases your clit with his fingers, smirking upon discovering it seems to have his own heartbeat, and it's beating just for him.

"Dirty girl? That's what you like?"

Before you could process it, you're flipped onto your stomach, and with the help of his two strong hands, you're pulled into something close to a kneeling position. Panties pulled down and skirt pushed up, your glistening cunt is on full display for the frightening creature.

He's touching you, groping your ass, rubbing your clit and sliding his fingers in and out of your weeping cunt, doing everything he shouldn't be doing, everything that shouldn't be allowed and yet here you are, unable to push him away, whimpering like a hungry whore. You're moaning, just stupid babbles that he doesn't pay any attention to, and you don't even know whose name to say, who to beg.

Your aching hips are rolling against the leather and at one point, you ride the strangers finger as if it was a dick, the muscles of your warm cunt squeezing him like a sweet treat. Completely stripping yourself of any dignity, of any self worth, you let this total stranger finger fuck you on somebody's bed, unaware where your two best friends have disappeared. You don't even think to look for them, to yell and beg for their presence, for being saver. All you beg for is being treated like the slut that you are.

By now, all the thoughts of the party have evaporated, tears of pleasure spilling out of your burning eyes, mixing with the mascara running down your cheeks. Your lipstick is wiped all over the sheets and your fucking tits are spilling out of that tiny top. You look like a goddamn mess and yet so fucking beautiful for the horny stranger.

And when you finally feel like it was enough, that knot in your stomach tight enough to unravel, everything stops. His hand retreats, leaving you hot and bothered, at the brink of an orgasm.

When you try to inch your hips closer, seeking the friction, the cold metal between your legs stops you. "Uh-huh."

You gasp, fingers digging into the sheets, frozen in your movement. Suddenly, you're as stiff as a statue, not daring to move a muscle when the cold, sharp blade rests against your dripping folds.

"Careful," the masked man whispers, his free hand palming the back of your head, pushing your head deeper into the pillow. You feel the cotton cloak fall over your own bare body as he leans over you, his chest warm against your arched back. "That's not so nice now, huh?"

Realising he really expected an answer from you, you shake your head. But the slide of the blade forward, the cold tip resting just against the puffy muscle of your clit gets your body to jerk. "N-no."

The man above you chuckles, his voice still too muffled by the mask for you to make out who he really is. "Sluts don't get to cum. They don't get to enjoy it, baby."

He twists the knife, coating the sharpness with your wetness, the cool sensation against your burning clit being almost enough to bring you to an orgasm. And he notices, chuckling at your desperation.

"But you don't need to enjoy it, right? You just need to cum, don't you?"

And just as fast as it has begun, it suddenly ends, with the big body pulling away from yours, leaving you a panting, sweaty, overwhelmed mess on the bed. He strokes your face once with the leather, spreading a bit of your own arousal over your cheek, adding to your miserable state. And then he's on his feet, hiding the knife (and very much delighted by earning the slicky souvenir) in his pocket, sparing you one last sorry glance.

"Maybe this will teach you a lesson, remind you not to be such a slut."

[yellow-rose-embalmer]

So that was the impression he was giving off. Aesop adjusts his posture upon the bench uncomfortably, looking downward. He gives a slow nod as he reads the point about not wanting to force anything: he understands all too well how people react negatively to that sort of thing, even when what is being forced is best for them. Even when he is pushing something for their own good.

What he thinks is unpalatable... that is a question he struggles to answer, even with the assurance that Victor has seen more than a few things, even with the promise that it probably won't be the worst thing the man has had to read. Still, he is hesitant in writing, staring down the page as he slides one foot behind the other, tapping a rhythm he hadn't planned beforehand, and yet one that he realizes too quickly has settled into a familiar pattern. [I doubt either of us wish to converse in something one-sided... in any sense of the word. Even if I imagine we might have had to more than a few times. Though, I may be assuming or guessing for your end... Correct me if I am wrong.]

He moves down a line, to indicate a new thought, but his hand freezes up mid-sentence at several points when he tries to answer further thoughts, tries to elaborate in a way that he feels will not lead to the same reception as so many other times, as shown in strangely halted and elongated ends of words. [It is not that I find it any issue, necessarily, but... I have found that my own work with death is not exactly well-received by others. If life is too hard, and too painful, and there's so much suffering everywhere... should I not help them rest? People shouldn't have to go through all that... it shouldn't have to hurt so much for so long. But... the underworld needs its guide, a soul needs someone to help it pass on, and I can fulfill that. I've trained so long to do so, it's the way I know how to help people.] He stares, wide-eyed, at his writings, his breaths and heartbeat accelerating within him. He shouldn't have said all this so quickly after meeting Victor. But he answered the question he was asked, didn't he? It took much restraint of twitching hands to not crumple the page or tear it apart in his fear that he'd ruined it all so fast. He settles for writing down a rushed message underneath his steadily messier confession. [I am dreadfully sorry for all that. I said far too much.] Quickly, he slides the paper over to Victor, looking away as if he cannot bear to witness his own words any further.

"Oh... Oh dear. I... do not know quite how that feels on your end, but if you need anything for it, I am more than happy to provide. I'm... not a proper doctor, or anything, but... I have some cleaning materials and bandages that I carry with me."

"...I won't ask what happened with your eye, if that's any concern. You don't need to put everything on display to a man you just met, after all."

@yellow-rose-embalmer

Besides, even if you were a doctor, I doubt you could help me. As for my eye, well, it's quite simple. I could tell you about it as long as you don't, uh, want to lick it.

[cosmos-coma]

My Sun, My Star- Epilogue

A/N: Hello! This is just a short little scene I thought would be sweet! Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments and reblogs and a BIG THANK YOU for the astounding 130+ followers I gained from this series alone! You guys are wonderful!!

Pairing: Bucky x Reader / Winter soldier!Bucky x Reader

Words: 665

Warnings: None! just fluff :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Bucky Masterlist

Buy me a Coffee?

_____

“Come on- let us see..!” Sam urged as he tried to peer around the Soldier’s broad shoulders, only for your Star to turn his back on him again. Even Natasha was trying to get in on the fun and see her honorary niece. She had a mission to become the coolest aunt on the team and she had to start right away to get ahead of the others.

“No.” The Winter Soldier simply answered, easily side-stepping and maneuvering around their advances.

He was too busy staring down at your daughter Selene’s little sleeping face. He had barely wanted to give her up since she arrived a day ago and refused to let her go for anyone who was not yourself. You only smiled and shook your head. You knew he was just trying to soak up his time with her while he still could. 

But this time you didn’t feel sad as you knew the end of his time was drawing near. Your eyes did not pool with tears and your voice did not quiver because in the short weeks before your pregnancy came to a close you and Bucky had been talking. You wanted to see how he felt about maybe letting the Winter Soldier out a little more often, or perhaps just not pushing back quite as hard when he needed him. It didn’t have to be for days or weeks on end, but something to make sure he didn’t get lost in the background again, to make sure he knew he had people waiting for him. And while you and Bucky hadn’t actually gotten around to making a firm agreement you’d like to see him try to deny you after today. Between giving birth in a safe house and the heroic actions of the former assassin, you don’t think he’d have the heart to say no to your request.

“Y/n, tell your boyfriend I want to see the newest member of the team…” Sam turned to you with defeat written in his frown as he failed to get a good look. 

“And I need to become the cool aunt before Wanda gets a chance to show off her magic,” Natasha chimed in as she tried to fake him out- it didn’t work.

You held your hands up, “I’m afraid it’s out of my hands guys… You’ll just have to wait your turn like everyone else.”

“Wow… and here I thought we were friends,” Sam joked as he shook his head before going back in for a few more tries. 

“And to think I made you my famous pancakes…” 

You laughed as they were blocked at every turn, it honestly didn’t even look like the Soldier was trying too hard either. Still, Your heart shone rays of joy as you laid back in the comfy chair of the tower, enjoying the entertainment before you as you took your own time to soak up moments with your beloved star. 

On the way back from the safe house you had told him about the talks that you and Bucky had. You could see before he even said a word that he was beyond excited to know he would see both of you again. The way his eyes widened ever so slightly, the way the corners of his mouth fought beyond their better judgment to crack a smack smile, his expression said it all. You reminded him that nothing had been settled yet, but he couldn’t care less about that, he just had only one request:

“Yes, my star?”

He smiled, a little less awkward now as he gained practice, “Promise me you’ll take photos when I’m not there, okay?” he looked down at her as he spoke, his hopeful smile shining down as she lay in your arms, “Promise me that I’ll still get to be a part of every single moment, okay?”

Your heart melted and you smiled softly, “Of course, My Star… You’ll be with us every step of the way.”

_______

Bucky Taglist:

@writingmysanity@simpxinnie@goldylions@mirtaqueen@blackhawkfanatic@mcira@aagn360@nialiuwanderlust@waywardhunter95 @hsllfirescoops

Thanks to everyone who wanted to be tagged this chapter! If you want to be added to the general Bucky taglist please DM me!

[avengers--assembly]

Cuddle

Summary: Peter crashes Avengers movie night and Tony? He couldn’t be more relieved. Just a short pure fluff moment, hope you enjoy.

Word count: 535

Warnings: none

●◇●◇●◇●◇●◇

Tony shifted uncomfortably in his seat, focusing back on the movie instead of the numerous eyes he was sure were directed towards him. It was Avengers movie night, something they used to do as a team so often that the current awkwardness felt downright wrong. Tony wasn't going to say anything, and the rest of the team seemed to share similar viewpoints.

They were all strangely accustomed to the lingering silence that had never before made an appearance and the unspoken rule of sitting as far from each other as possible. Tony sat on one side, and the Rogues on the other – a simple arrangement for a family turned forced together team. This had been the dynamic since the Rogues returned to the tower a week ago. They stayed on their floor, and Tony on his. If anyone had something to say about the surprisingly lack of Christmas decorations this year, they kept it to themselves. Rightfully so, as Tony quite literally came to their first movie night with unconcealed discomfort and a less-than-happy mood. But he was trying.

The fake movie watching continued for a while after that. Tony guessed they were about thirty minutes in when the interruption occurred, and no, Pepper, he did not arrange for this to happen to get out of movie night – it was a total fluke. Tony had nothing to do with it.

The elevator doors slid open, drawing the room's attention. A kid, a literal kid, shuffled in with slightly rundown sneakers and messy brown curls. He glanced up at them as he entered, but Tony was pretty convinced he saw nothing with his glazed eyes and sleepy expression. The kid threw down his school backpack onto the floor and lazily, possibly half-asleep, walked towards the kitchen. He opened the fridge door and just stood, staring at its insides for a while before heaving a sigh. Tony and the rest of the Avengers watched as he banged the door back closed.

“Is he lost?” Clint whispered out of the side of his mouth. Steve frowned and moved to get up, but the kid was already heading towards them, or should Tony say, him.

"Son, are you okay?” Steve said, trailing off at the sight of the smile of Tony’s face.

Tony ignored the captain as Peter flopped down on top of him. Encircling his arms around the boy, giving a tight squeeze. “Had a long day, Roo?”

“Mmph,” Peter mumbled as his only reply before snuggling deeper into Tony. Ignoring the gaping faces, Tony pressed a kiss to the boy's head. “Petey, you can’t fall asleep on me again. I already had to carry you twice this week, and don’t talk about the one before that.” Peter didn’t bother to reply, already asleep and uncaring of the awake world.

"Well, I’m out, have a kid to put to bed. Don’t catch too many flies while I’m gone.” There were quite a few snapping of closed jaws as Tony heaved himself upwards and carried his spider-baby away from prying eyes. Hopefully, the kid wouldn’t be too embarrassed the next time he was more conscious. Tony didn’t even bother listening to the conspiracy going on in the living room. What if they thought Peter was his kid?

[lets-try-some-writing]

Since you have an au where Optimus used his holoform to become a teacher, I was curious if any of the other bots have messed around with their holoforms?

WELL-

I am just going to tie this in with Mr. Pax because goodness it fits too well. Enjoy!

Mr. Pax AU here!

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Optimus was by far the only bot in base who used his holoform so frequently. Being a teacher is taxing and he often goes out of his way to spent an almost equal amount of time in holoform as out. But he isn't the only bot who spends time parading as a human off and on.

Ratchet, despite almost never leaving base, has occasionally used his holoform during quiet days to travel to bigger cities in order to sit in on lectures. He fakes whatever he needs to in order to get into lectures on subjects he wants to know more about, usually relating to medicine and all things natural sciences. He has been known to show up for math lectures too. However, he is not exactly the most subtle. Coming in with bright orange and white hair, possessing scars to mimic his facial plating seams, and always dressing the same exact way while never seeming to breathe or blink tends to draw attention.

Much like Optimus, Ratchet has gained a bit of a reputation. His appearances are so random and so varied in location that there has been a forum dedicated to him specifically. He has turned up all over the globe to listen to lectures, and as such, folks have taken pictures and begun trying to connect the dots. Many a poor fool has lamented the absolute impossibility of Ratchet being in Tokyo for a debate over quantum physics only to then be in Istanbul two hours later to observe archeologists argue over Roman relics. Ratchet has no idea that he is regarded as the "Wandering Pharmacist", in large part due to his eternally present lab coat.

Arcee does not tend to use her holoform unless absolutely required. But after heading through a seedier part of one of the larger cities in America, she has taken to heading to the more crime ridden ones on weekends to do some vigilante work. Being a nonexistent person means that she is able to get away with quite a lot. Thus far, Arcee has busted quite a few drug rings, saved dozens of trafficking victims, and dropped anonymous details to the police regarding homicides. Is is a waste of time? She would argue "maybe". Does she go out anyway? Absolutely.

Always having her holoform in black and garbed in a biker helmet ensures Arcee is never caught. But there are rumors now in larger cities of a biker called "Lady Midnight". Arcee's habit of walking scared women home on dark nights has earned her a very favorable reputation, and more than one mural has been made by appreciative artists over the years. She knows she has a reputation, but she never changes her routine. Those who meet her regard her respectfully, even criminals. She too has a forum dedicated to her. No one has been able to successfully figure out who, or rather what she is.

Bumblebee has become a very well known gamer who turns up at the local arcade every now and then. His signature mask, yellow black marked hoodie, and dread locks leave him able to be picked out from a mile away. No one knows his parents or if he even has any. But when Bumblebee comes on into Jasper's arcade, the local children revere him as if he is some sort of god. His ability to beat the games is legendary, and never once does he utter a word. He has a small fanclub who do everything in their power to learn the way of "The Masked Boy"

Thus far, only one kid saw Bumblebee's holoform vanish and be reabsorbed. Not a soul believes the poor sod. If anything, it has only cemented Bumblebee's position as the Lord of video games. Rafael is the only one out of the trio who knows that its Bumblebee who goes the arcade. Jack and Miko assume that its just some rando who drops by every now and then. Oh how wrong they are.

Bulkhead has only uses his holoform for the express purpose of talking with the older folks at the bar. He took a liking to a group of construction workers shortly after arriving to Earth. They taught him a great deal about acting human while thinking he was a foreigner. The elderly crew treated him so kindly that Bulkhead has now made it a habit to go and get drinks with them once a week if he can manage. He loves hearing the stories of these elderly humans, and despite being ages older than them, he has a fantastic time learning under them.

Little does he know that the crew know that he's not human. But there is an old understanding amongst them. If someone it polite and kind, there is no need to pry. And so they don't. They treat Bulkhead as they would any other person and tell stories as if they can't see his holoform flickering off and on. What happens in the bar stays in the bar.

Wheeljack somehow managed to build himself a club by pure accident. He was meandering about and he saw a few kids being pushed around. And so on instinct, he slaps together a holofrom and gets out to beat the afts of those who were messing with the kids. From that point onward, whenever he was on Earth he offered greetings to the local kids, calling them by fun and unique nicknames. He even began instructing a few on how to throw a proper punch, if only for self defense. Is he around often? No. But do the kids respect the hell out of him? Absolutely. By giving them the watered down version of the Wrecker rules, the local children hold nothing but absolute adoration for him.

There is a whole club dedicated to following the rules he taught them. In his absence, the small gang of kids serve as Wheeljack's replacement and help protect the other kids from bullies and other such individuals. They even have gone so far as to get matching clothes and accessories so that when they are "on duty" they can look the part. Wheeljack has never been so proud.

Ultra Magnus has only used his holoform a few times, and all of which were to go meet Optimus at school. He has largely been the one to come bring Optimus things while the Prime is at work, or to otherwise look big and intimidating to cover for Optimus more subtle tactics. The students murmured about him possibility being Optimus's spouse, but those claims were dismissed with Ultra Magnus refusing to call Optimus anything other than "Commander". Now the class firmly believes that he has to be one of Optimus's kids or a fellow fae creature subserviently to Mr. Pax. The rumors are amazing.

Smokescreen can never keep his holoform straight. His is always changing appearances. And so whenever he goes out and promptly does something he really shouldn't be able to, he is often recorded and promptly lost to the ether. He is always the one breaking human biological limits through pushing his holoform more than it really should, often by accident too. All he wants is to go enjoy human culture and he almost always gets recorded doing something just strange enough to count as supernatural, but not odd enough to really warrant any attention.

Like Ratchet, there is a forum for him dubbed "The shapeshifer". He doesn't know about it, but the forum enjoyers are actually quite intelligent and have long connected Smokescreen's various holoforms together.

[runningfrom2am]

Can we get a blurb where an accident happens on set and drew has to do cpr on reader who he’s been secretly dating for a while?

thank you for this request omg!! and i thought this was so perfect to post for drews birthday :') i miss him

wrong place, right time - d.s.

pairing: drew x fem!reader

wc: 1.5k

tags/warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, injury but not violence, idk no one dies and its not very descript so its p safe

requests (currently closed- feel free to send whatever but it will be a while before I get to them!)

nav/masterlists

Drew is watching from behind the cameras as you film a scene he's not meant to be in just yet, sitting against a wall on the top deck of what will eventually be known to the audience as The Coastal Venture.

It's been a fun day as far as filming goes, but very long. He's tired, and he can see that you are tired too. He sips on his third cup of coffee, watching you film your scene. Right now, you're helping Cleo pull the cross which is hanging from the crane.

You're looking over your shoulder, camera's zoomed in close on you while you're supposed to be keeping an eye out for Rafe. Standing guard for who is meant to be your on-screen boyfriend, anxious about the act of betraying him. If Drew didn't know better, he'd believe your expressions. You're incredibly talented, and every chance he gets he'll watch you film your scenes. He can only do that so often, though, without it drawing any suspicion. After all, your relationship was kept only between the two of you for now.

Drew watches as you're given your queue that Rafe will enter, and you turn fully. He'll be filming that scene after his break, so he starts to pack up his snack and downs the rest of his coffee. He's distracted when he hears a loud crack, followed by gasps and a loud thump. His head quickly turns, and you're laying on the ground, the cross on its crane swinging above you as chaos breaks out on the ship.

The fake cross wasn't particularly heavy, but with the wind picking up and it's height dropping due to someone in the crane messing with the controls at just the wrong moment, it ended up swinging right into the back of your head.

"Y/N!" Drew can't hear a single other thing anyone is shouting as he's shoving past crew members to get to you laying on the deck. "Y/N? Hey! Talk to me!" He calls out, turning you onto your back and grabbing your face in his hands. You're out cold, that's clear.

"Shit... shit! Okay, uhm..." He's talking to himself now, leaning down to press his ear to your chest. Listening desperately through the commotion to try and hear a heartbeat but he can't make one out, and he has no hope of finding a pulse on your neck or wrist with such shaky hands.

"Okay, come on Baby, wake up." Drew mutters, consequences be damned as he's quickly rolling up his sleeves. He places his hands on your chest, taking a breath before pumping as much of his strength as he can into you, over and over again, hoping to bring you back to life.

He pauses, leaning down again to try and hear if you're breathing with his ear to your lips. Again, nothing. "Come on, Love, you've got to wake up." He mumbles, going back to compressing your chest. Just a few seconds at a time, before leaning over again and pressing his lips to yours, blocking your nose to try and breathe the life back into your lungs. Just a few times. Just four times and then back to your chest.

The cast is ushered away from reach of the swinging cross which is now being hoisted up and out of reach, leaving them all huddled together behind the commotion. "Is she okay?" Madelyn asks, hands clasped to her chest.

"She's gonna be fine." Chase replies, chewing the inside of his cheek. "She's fine."

"Did you guys hear it? I could hear it." Rudy whispers, voice shaking as he's wrapped in a towel from the plunge he just took into the ocean filming his own scene. "It was like... this awful crack. No way she hasn't broken something."

"Dude, shut up." JD says, shaking his head as they all try and see what's happening. More than a few tears have fallen between them, shock wearing off as they realize the gravity of the situation. You still haven't woken up.

People are yelling at Drew but it all sounds so different- his tunnel vision is on you, ignoring even the tears rolling down his own cheeks as he keeps repeating the cycle. Ten pushes on your chest, five breaths. Is he doing it right? He doesn't even know.

"Baby, come on, wake up... You have to wake up..." He says, hoping by some miracle that you'll hear him. Where the hell are the paramedics?

Just as the panic is fully starting to set in, exhaustion nowhere in sight, you gasp, lifting your arm slightly to try and grab your boyfriends attention. The stabbing pain coming from seemingly everywhere in your head was keeping you from speaking, just allowing you to squint your eyes shut as your hand hits his forearm.

"Y/N/N? Hey, you're okay... I'm right here." Drew says, finally being able to breathe as he gently pushes your hair out of your forehead.

Just then, since it didn't take them long enough, the on-site paramedics reach your side, joining Drew as he kneels next to you.

You can't even open your eyes as they're wrapping your head, putting something in your arm, and moving you over to what you assume is some kind of body board. Drew holds your hand the whole way, and by now, realization has dawned on not only the rest of the cast, but the crew as well.

"Are they together?" Carlacia asks, watching as Drew clings to your hand on the stretcher as you're moved. "Did I miss something?"

"No." Madison answers, shaking her head. "You didn't miss anything. I didn't think they were, I knew they hooked up once ages ago but that's not really how you treat a hookup, is it?"

"They hooked up?" Chase chimes in, tearing his gaze from you as this new information dawns on him.

"How is that relevant right now? She's dying!" Madelyn spits, eyes blotchy and red. "If you didn't know you weren't meant to know so don't talk."

"Good girl, you're doing so well..." Drew mutters to you, pressing a hand to your cheek as they move you. "You've gotta stay with me here. Can you open your eyes? Can you try?" You just groan, the light from the sun beating down on you too intense to open them more than a sliver before you black out again.

You wake up in the hospital, head pounding. Your whole body aches, you only know where you are because of the bright fluorescents and the sterile smell. Blinking your eyes open slowly, trying to adjust to your new environment.

"Y/N/N? Hey, are you waking up?" Drew is there. Of course he's there, and he's quickly standing up and once again pushing your hair away from your face. It really wasn't in your face anyways, he's spent the last six hours being so finicky with everything in your room that there was no chance of a limb remaining untucked or a hair being out of place. He had nothing better to do than distract himself, waiting for you to wake.

"Hi." You mumble, trying to sit up.

"Woah, wait, lay down. Just relax, okay Love? I'll get the doctor. I'll be back." He promises, dropping your hand to leave.

"Wait, wait..." You call out weakly. He's quick to stop and look at you again. "I'm okay. Just, can you stay for a minute?"

Drew nods, returning to your side. You just need a minute before you're bombarded with doctors, and possibly people with questions. You didn't want to face the world, for now, you just wanted to face him.

"What happened..?" You ask after a moment of him staring at you like you were about to evaporate into dust.

"Uh..." Drew clears his throat, giving a slight shake of his head as he rubs his chin. "There was an accident. You got hit in the head, it wasn't your fault."

"Where are we?"

"Duke."

"Am I... Am I okay?" Hesitation is dropping from your voice and he nods, squeezing your hand in between his before lifting it gently to kiss your knuckles.

"Just a concussion, bruised ribs. Luckily no breaks. The concussion is serious, though, from what they can tell. They're gonna keep you, I think. The doctor will have more answers than me." Drew explains. "Can I grab them for you?"

You shake your head slowly, weary of the pain already pulsing through your skull. "No. I just want another minute with you. Before everything is real again."

Drew nods again. "Of course. I just-" He sighs, dropping his head. "Thank god you're okay. You scared me so bad." He laughs slightly. "I just about passed out over you."

You smile, avoiding the urge to laugh. "Must've been a sight. Wish I could have seen it."

"I wish no one had to." Drew chuckles, rubbing his eyes. "By the way, bad time to tell you this, but I may have outed us; at least to the cast and crew. Legal will probably be calling."

"God, Drew. I'm so disappointed." You tease before quickly reassuring him. "It's fine, it doesn't matter."

"As long as you're alive," He agrees. "I couldn't care about anything else less."

taglist: @bookishbabyyy, @madelynie, @whore-4-drewstarkey, @slut4drudy, @winterrrnight, @totalswag, @sadfury, @fullfledgedemo, @rafemotherfuckingcameron, @urfaveluvr, @chenslucy, @hxnnah-397, @s-we-e-t-t-ea, @tahliac11, @saccharinesammie, @rafeoccasionally, @ietss, @maybankslover, @redhead1180, @suzyheartsrafe, @wpdailyminimeta,  @rafegirly, @thelomlisrafecameron, @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles, @flonkertn, @whtvrrafe, @r1vrsefx, @frxcless, @ari-nicole, @@urmooniee,

[inkandtension]

Loverboy!Hyunjin

Basically, Loverboy!Hyunjin, according to me!

Hyunnie <3, sent you a message!

"I Love You"

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who is a hopeless romantic at heart

He goes all out for you with handwritten love letters, doodles of you in his sketchbook, and surprise dates at places you’ve casually mentioned wanting to visit.

He’s the type to leave notes like, “You’re the best part of my day,” hidden in your bag.

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who shows his love through art

He sketches your face endlessly, saying, “I just can’t get you out of my head, so I might as well put you on paper.”

He often paints landscapes and adds tiny details inspired by moments you’ve shared, like a sunset he watched with you.

He lets you draw on him.

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who constantly showers you with compliments

He loves hyping you up, saying things like, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen—inside and out.”

Even on your bad days, he finds a way to remind you how incredible you are, whispering, “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who plans romantic surprises

From elaborate candlelit dinners to recreating your favorite movie moments, he’s always finding new ways to make you feel special.

He once filled your room with fairy lights and rose petals just to say, “I love you more than words can express.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who loves acts of service

He’s always attentive, taking care of the little things you forget, like packing you snacks or refilling your water bottle without asking.

When you’re stressed, he’ll take over chores and encourage you to relax, saying, “You deserve a break, my love.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who is the clingiest in the sweetest way

He’s always holding your hand, resting his head on your shoulder, or wrapping you in a hug because, “It feels wrong when I’m not touching you.”

If you’re sitting together, his legs are always tangled with yours because he can’t help but want to be close.

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who is adorably dramatic over small things

If you don’t answer his texts quickly, he’ll send a follow-up like, “Are you ignoring me? My heart is breaking!”

He pouts exaggeratedly when you tease him, only to burst out laughing when you kiss him to “make up for it.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who is loyal and protective

He makes it clear that no one messes with you, always ready to stand up for you if needed.

His protective side shines most when he pulls you closer and says, “You don’t have to face anything alone. I’m here.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who playfully teases you to see you smile

He loves pretending to be offended over silly things, like you stealing a fry, just to hear you laugh when he fake-sulks.

His teasing always ends with a sweet comment, like, “I’m only joking because you’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who keeps every little thing you give him

He treasures every gift, note, or trinket from you, keeping them safe in a box he opens when he misses you.

Sometimes, he’ll surprise you by wearing a bracelet you made him years ago, saying, “It’s my lucky charm.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who adores spoiling you

He takes every opportunity to surprise you with your favorite things, from snacks to spontaneous weekend trips.

Seeing your smile makes him happier than anything, and he’ll always say, “You deserve the world, and I’ll give it to you.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who loves dreamy late-night conversations

He talks about the future like it’s a story he’s excited to write with you, imagining your dream home and adventures.

While cuddling, he’ll whisper, “I can’t wait to see what our forever looks like.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who is your biggest fan in everything you do

He brags about you constantly to his friends, casually mentioning your achievements like they’re his own.

He also hypes you up online with vague captions like, “Feeling extra lucky today.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who is your gentle source of comfort

On your tough days, he’ll hold you close, stroking your hair and whispering soft reassurances like, “It’s okay to feel this way. I’ve got you.”

He’s always patient and understanding, giving you the space you need to heal while staying by your side.

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who is completely head over heels for you

His love for you is visible in everything he does, from the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world to how he prioritizes your happiness.

He doesn’t shy away from saying it outright: “I love you more than anything, and I always will.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who caresses your skin like it’s made of silk

When he notices a patch of unshaved skin, instead of teasing you, he gently brushes his cheek against it, murmuring, “It’s soft, like you.”

He’ll look up at you with a playful smile, adding, “Don’t be embarrassed. You’re perfect like this.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who plays with your hair like it’s his personal comfort toy

He loves running his fingers through it, sometimes braiding small sections just to see how it looks.

When he notices a few stray flyaways, he kisses the top of your head, saying, “Even your messy moments are beautiful.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who adores every cell you’re insecure about

If you complain about a scar or a birthmark, he traces it with his fingers and whispers, “It’s part of you. How could I not love it?”

He’ll often kiss those spots, reminding you they’re what make you unique.

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who steals kisses from your hands

Whether you’re holding hands or gesturing while talking, he’ll suddenly lean in to plant a kiss on your knuckles, grinning mischievously.

If your hands are cold, he cups them in his own and softly blows warm air on them, muttering, “Gotta take care of these precious hands.”

calls them "Hands that make his future."

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who massages your feet

He notices when you’re tired and immediately offers to rub your feet, not caring if they’re unpolished or sore.

“You’ve been working hard. Let me take care of you,” he’ll say, eyes full of affection.

will absolutely cut your toenails and nails.

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who kisses every “imperfection”

He adores kissing freckles, stretch marks, or blemishes, calling them “love spots” that tell a story about you.

“These make you, you, and I wouldn’t change a thing,” he reassures, his lips lingering on each spot.

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who loves your lazy days

If you’re in your comfiest clothes with messy hair and haven’t bothered with skincare, he still looks at you like you’re a masterpiece.

He’ll plop down next to you, cheek pressed against yours, saying, “You’re cutest when you’re just being you.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who is obsessed with the little details

He loves noticing random things like the way your eyelashes curl or the tiny scrunch of your nose when you taste something bitter.

“Did you know this is my favorite spot?” he’ll say, pointing to something random, before pecking your nose softly.

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who makes you feel at ease about natural things

If you mention feeling self-conscious about your skin, body hair, or anything else, he immediately brushes it off with a soft smile.

“Who cares? You’re real, and that’s why I’m in love with you,” he says, pulling you into a warm hug.

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who loves seeing you relaxed

He finds you most beautiful when you’re just lounging at home, no makeup, hair tied up, and wearing his oversized hoodie.

“How are you more stunning than anyone else, even like this?” he asks, completely mesmerized.

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who loves nuzzling into your neck

He’s always finding an excuse to tuck his face against your neck, breathing in your scent and murmuring, “This is my favorite place in the world.”

If you laugh and try to push him away, he holds on tighter, grinning, “Nope, you’re stuck with me.”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who treasures your “flaws” because they make you, you

If you ever point out something you don’t like about yourself, he immediately counters with all the reasons he loves it.

“Don’t you know? That’s one of the things I fell in love with first,” he’ll say, kissing the spot you were insecure about.

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who loves teasing

He playfully pinches your cheeks when you’re pouting, calling you “my grumpy little angel.”

If you glare at him, he immediately melts into apologies, showering you with kisses, saying, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! But you’re so cute!”

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who is addicted to cuddling

He insists on being the big spoon, even though he sometimes switches to be the little spoon, whining, “I want you to hold me for a change!”

His favorite thing is tracing patterns on your back while you both talk about random things late at night.

Loverboy!Hyunjin, who does anything for you

When you’re stressing over guests and ask him to peel oranges, he smiles and says, “Darling, if I could, I’d peel the earth off its atmosphere. These are nothing.”

He’ll then peel them perfectly, arranging the slices neatly on a plate, adding, “Anything for you.”

[pa-pa-patato]

Headcanons

•Boris always smile big with all his teeth, cause his real relaxed smile looks like his drunk

•bendy accidentally enters other people’s dreams He doesn’t realize it and him doing actually helps them not have nightmares (he also travels through different universes )

•bendy teaches cala how to cook and bake which results in them singing and dancing in the kitchen when they are alone (or think they are alone)

•baby and snowball go on little adventures together

•cuphead has dyslexia so he doesn’t read books However bendy figured out they have similar taste in books and faked that it’s easier for him to read out loud so he and cuphead can enjoy books

•Holly found a random picture of some guy and keeps it in her wallet as a joke

•cups has a burn mark on his ass in a shape of a cat He will not explain how he got it

•cuphead and Boris often eat food that’s gone bad cause they forget to check the expiration date

•bendy has a habit of starting at everyone cause he tries to study their facial expressions so he can draw

•demitess found an ancient artifact that she uses to sometimes appear in cupbros dream She always to far away to be able to see them But just knowing their alive is enough for her

•cupbros made a mistake of leaving bendy alone with a bunch of mafia man thinking that since Boris isn’t there he won’t befriend then and just ignore them They quickly realized that bendy was the reason Boris is like that when they came back and saw bendy playing rock paper scissors with one of them as other flirt with him or try to convince him to join

•bendy can also do the puppy dog eyes thing And it is as affective as Boris The catch? He can’t do it on command

•there were angel and demon lovers that demons are required to study and read it is one of the most heartbreaking historical stories that demons read But the angels completely destroyed their relationship in books so now angels are thought that they were ‘casual friends’ and every time demons hears an angel say that it makes them want to start another war

•children love cuphead and he has no idea why

•Mugman didn’t understand queer people and how demons were so accepting of it but the look of happiness and relief his brother had when they were learning about it made it impossible for him to even think of hating them

•Fanny is a lesbian

•bendy and Cala like to snack on lemons

•the whole house likes to gossip they will drop whatever they are doing when someone goes “You will not believe what I just found out”

•bendy cries whenever he has a strong emotion Sad ,happy ,angry? He will be crying

•bendy draw how he thought everyone would look like as a human

•cuphead made a sexist joke once when he was drunk and got the stardust slapped off him by Alice

•bendy makes unhinged joke shirts as pjs

•bendy bout stickers and told everyone that he will give them away to anyone that does a good job (on cleaning cooking ext) he didn’t think it would be a big deal . It was and now they are all showing off their stickers

•Alice tried to be cute and do something bendy told her he liked…but bendy forgot he told her and was confused and scared as to how she knew about it

•cuphead is extremely overprotective over everyone if they start getting close (romantically) with someone outside the house He will find everything about them and present it to the person as the reason why they shouldn’t date

•bendy has a sixth sense on whether or not a person is a good person (the only people he truly sees as bad are rapeist pedos and child abusers )

•there is a competitions on who can find the coolest stick , every few days someone presents a cool stick they found

•bendy trained rats and mouses in sillyvision they were the only animals that didn’t fear him and he misses them

•if cuphead trained he would be able to control and use his blood as a weapon

•Bendy is so curious about cupheads magic and want to learn more about but he never asks cup anything cause he doesn’t want him to see him as hat

[soulofapatrick]

Baby Steps - Henry Fox x Male Reader

Summary: You wake to Henry in your room, having flown overnight to surprise you

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff; the fluffiest shit ive written for a while

Y/N’s POV

I’m stirred awake by the soft, lingering pressure of familiar lips on mine. At first, I’m enveloped in the sensation of their plump softness, and for a moment, I think I must be dreaming. The kiss is gentle yet undeniably passionate, a perfect blend of love and longing that I’ve come to recognise as uniquely Henry’s. 

As my senses slowly awaken, I become aware of the delicate dance of his fingers across my cheek, tracing a path as tender as a whispered promise. It’s then that I open my eyes and my heart leaps in my chest as he’s here, leaning over me with a soft smile gracing those dreamy lips. Henry’s eyes, a shade of deep, stormy blue, lock onto mine with an intensity that takes my breath away. His honey hair falls in disarray around his face, adding to the allure of the tousled morning look he wears so effortlessly. Those plump, soft lips I had initially mistaken for a dream are now inches away, just waiting for another kiss, another taste of the love that binds us. 

I’m blinking again, still not actually sure he’s here, but when I open my eyes he’s still leaning ver me with an amused glint in his eyes. I raise a hand, my fingers trembling with disbelief, and with a mixture of caution and longing, I cup his cheek. The warmth of his skin against my palm is undeniably real, and the way he leans into the touch with a soft sigh. I can feel the subtle roughness of his morning stubble, the texture of his skin so familiar and comforting. My thumb grazes those plump, soft lips, the sensation electric. It sends a jolt of desire through me but, it’s more than just desire; it’s the tangible proof that Henry is here with me, that I’m not trapped in some wistful dream. 

I can no longer deny the reality of the situation. This isn’t a dream. This is Henry: my love, my anchor, my prince, here in the Whitehouse. 

Overwhelmed with emotions, I can’t contain my joy any longer. I reach out and grab Henry’s shoulders, yanking him down into a hug that has him letting out a surprised sound as he loses his balance and falls onto of me. He chuckles, a warm and melodious sound, as he hides his face in the crook of my neck, breath tickling my skin as he nuzzles against me. His laughter is music to my ears, a soothing balm to my heart. His nose is cold against my neck but I don’t care because he’s in my arms and he’s laughing. We’re wrapped up in each other, two souls intertwined in a world that often demands so much of us. 

Without a word, his hands roam any bare skin he can reach above the duvet, drawing a soft groan from me as we can’t right now. Alex and June are going to come bugging me about breakfast soon as Mum likes to have meals together because we’re still family even if we’re the now the Presidential family. 

“Hen, we can’t-“ I’m cut off by a pounding at the door. 

“Come on Mouse! Breakfast! I’m starving.” Alex’s voice rings through and Henry huffs lightly, warm breath tickling my neck. 

“Go ahead, give me a few minutes!” I call back as Henry wriggles his way off of me and back to his feet, “I need to get dressed!” 

“TMI!” Alex makes a fake vomiting sound before I hear him move on to June’s door. 

Suddenly, the duvet is ripped off me, Henry with a cheeky grin on his face but eyes telling a different story as he realises I’m completely naked. I want to cover myself up but the way he’s looking at me makes me stay there, raising myself to my elbows and just watching his expression. It’s a gaze that feels like a warm embrace, as if he’s holding me with his eyes alone. 

As I watch him watch me, I notice the subtle changes in his expressions. There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes, as if he’s delighting in some secret joke that only the two of us share. It makes me feel shy, as if I’m being examined under a magnifying glass, my vulnerability and desires laid bare for him. 

But it’s not just amusement; there’s a hunger in his gaze too, a longing that’s mirrored in the way his pupils dilate ever so slightly. It’s the look of someone who can’t get enough of the person they love, as if he’s seeing me anew, every time, with the sam wonder and affection. 

Henry’s gaze holds me captive, and I can’t help it when my cheeks heat up under the weight of his attention. It’s as if I’m a work of art, and he’s a devoted enthusiast, lost in the beauty of what he sees before him. In this moment, I feel truly seen and cherished, and it fills me with a warmth that goes beyond worlds - a feeling that I am the most precious masterpiece in his world. It has me sitting up and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed for him to slot himself between them like he belongs there, his finger hooking under my chin to make me look up at him and I think I forget how to breathe. 

“I want to tell Mom.” It slips from me before I’ve processed it and instead of going into what Pez calls his cocoon phase his soft smile brightens and the corners of his eyes crinkle with joy, “I want to hold you and kiss you whenever I like. For as long as you need, the walls of the Whitehouse will hold our secret but Henry…” I reach for his hands, “I love you.” 

The moment those three words leave my lips, myriad of emotions play across Henry’s features like a fleeting storm. First, there’s joy, a radiant burst of happiness that lights up his eyes. Them fear flickers by briefly, a shadow of worry for what his grandma will say about him choosing love over his royal duties. Pain follow, a reminder of the sacrifices we’ll have to make to keep our love hidden until he’s ready to tell the world but I would wait forever for him. But as quickly as the pain appears, it’s replaced by something stronger - bliss. It’s a deep, overwhelming happiness, a promise of the love we share and the future we’ve chosen together. 

Without a word, Henry leans down, his lips brushing softly against mine. It’s a kiss filled with tenderness and reassurance, a silent affirmation of his love for me, and as we kiss, the worries and pressures of the outside world seem to fade into the background. 

However, our peaceful moment is interrupted by the buzzing of my phone on the nightstand. I pull away reluctantly, breaking the kiss with a soft sigh, already knowing it’s Alex as Henry moves to my wardrobe and begins to rifle through it. As predicted Alex leaves me a voice note telling me to hurry up or he’s drowning me in the pool next time we go swimming. Very mature. 

I watch Henry reach into my wardrobe, his fingers gliding over the familiar clothes that have become a part of both of our lives. He has an air of confidence and ease as he selects a few items for me to wear. 

First, he pulls out a pair of boxers from the drawers before grabbing some skinny jeans of mine that he’s complimented my ass in before. With a self-satisfied nod he’s heading back to the bed where I’m sat and handing them to me before pulling the polo shirt he’s wearing over his head. It’s his very famous riding shirt: the red and white checkered one with ‘Kensington Polo’ written across is and I don’t think twice about taking it. 

While I dress he goes back to my wardrobe and finds my favourite tee shirt, pulling it over his head and I can’t stop the giddy feeling when I see him raise the sleeve to his nose and inhale. The look of love and peace on his face as his eyes flutters shut has my heart clenching and my cheeks heating up. It’s moments like these that remind me of the depth of his feelings, of the way he cherishes even the smallest part of me like my clothes. 

I finish dressing quickly, my heart still dancing with the warmth of Henry’s presence. He suggests we head down to breakfast, and I just nod in agreement. My phone begins to buzz again, but this time, I can hardly focus on it as Henry is holding his hand out for me to hold, fingers extended in a silent invitation. Without hesitation, I reach out, our fingers interlacing effortlessly. My heart skips a beat at the simple yet profound gesture. 

We arrive at the dining room where my family is already gathered. My mom, the President, sits at the head of the table, her usual air of authority softened by the presence of the loved ones. Dad, Alex, June and Nora are all chatting and laughing as they wait for me. For us. 

I can’t help but swallow hard, my heart racing as I prepare to face the inevitable questions and scrutiny. But, as I glance at Henry, his grip on my hand remains steady, his expression almost more anxious than I feel. It’s a silent reminder that we’re in this together, facing whatever challenges that come our way one at a time. But together. 

Mom looks up from her place at the head of the table, and her eyes widen in surprise as she spits Henry beside me. Her Texan accent warms her voice as she greets us, her eyes falling to our interlocked hands, “I was wondering who the extra place was for.” She says, tone warm and loving. Her eyes hold a hint of curiosity but also deep affection and nothing short of love and support. 

I can’t help but exhale a sigh of relief as I witness her reaction. It’s as if a weight has been lifted, and I feel a newfound sense of ease in her presence. 

Dad’s the next to notice, ever the embodiment of warmth and hospitality, rises from his seat and starts to extend his hand to Henry. But, as he seems my hand in Henry’s, his face breaks into a warm and loving smile before he’s pulling Henry into a heartfelt hug that has Henry letting out a surprised sound. 

“Welcome to the family, son.” Dad says, voice filled with genuine warmth and acceptance. It’s a moment that fills me with overwhelming gratitude and Henry’s stormy blue eyes shine with tears as we sit in our seats between Dad and Alex. 

Nora, always perceptive and sharp, giggles excitedly from her seat opposite me when I place my hand on Henry’s leg and squeeze reassuringly. She turns to Alex and June, her eyes dancing with mirth, “I told you so!” She just about cackles, voice triumphant, “Pay up, pay up. I knew they’d end up together.” 

“Shut up.” Alex throws a note across the table, barely missing the jam and Mom just rolls her eyes as Nora snatches it up and holds it to the light to check if it’s real. 

Henry’s leaning close to me, lips practically brushing my ear and he murmurs, “I love you too.” My heart swells with affections and I can’t resist the urge any longer. I turn to towards him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It’s sweet and tender, a silent reaffirmation of our love admits the laughter and teasing. 

Alex, always the jokester, pretends to gag dramatically, earning an exaggerated fake vomiting motion from him. Mom playfully scolds him, smacking him gently with the newspaper while I kick him under the table, dragging a sharp cry of pain and a playful glare from him. 

But, in this moment, surrounded by my loving family, Henry’s presence beside me, and the shared laughter at the breakfast table, I know deep down that everything is going to be okay for us. We’ll take baby steps and I don’t care how long I have to wait for Henry to be ready. I’d kill for him. I want him to be written into the my history when historians write about me. I want them to know that this man, currently laughing at a joke Dad is telling is the love of my life and will always be. 

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

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[hanasnx]

Kinktober: House of Amateurs - S1E6

MINORS DNI 18+

SUMMARY: october 6th | behind the scenes | the daring interviewer, zena daren, isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and advertise krayt house’s first full-length pornographic series. the new frontier of breaking through this industry’s stigma is a challenge she’s up to face. joined by any member of the cast that’ll lend their mouth to the microphone, zena wants to know the answers to questions the people are too afraid to ask. WC: 0.5k | CHARACTERS: anakin skywalker, zena daren (oc) WARNINGS: no reader | adult film au | spoilers: episode 2 | mentioned: sexual content, adult film industry

KRAYT HOUSE M.LIST | NAVI | INBOX | @KRAYTHOUSE

“So, this is your first shot at a series, right?” Zena makes conversation, beginning with something light as she coolly crosses one leg over another in her pencil skirt.

Anakin, who sits across from her in casual attire, gently signals a single nod of his head with a long blink. It’s not the first time she’s encountered the legendary Anakin Skywalker, but his body language never ceases to surprise her. From way he acts on camera, and his well-endowed features, his posture here is remarkably flaccid.

She flips the pen in her hand, gripping the edge of her clipboard as she adjusts in her seat, engaging with him. “What made you take the job?”

He flashes a downturn of his lips, scratching the side of his nose. “Money. Needed a job.”

Zena raises her brows, his crude sense of humor— if it is humor— landing on her enough to curl the corners of her mouth. “This series is practically built around you, I’d imagine the kind of person to warrant that attention would be well-off, don’t you?”

“If that’s what you think.” he shrugs.

“You wanna know what I think?” Zena goads.

His expression shifts mild encouragement, gesturing with his hand to go on.

Zena pushes up her glasses by pinching the frames, eyeing him down through her brows. “You care more than you let on. Your platform is built, Mr. Skywalker, but your co-stars are relatively new to the scene. You’re using this and your name to give them publicity.”

He takes his time in moistening his lips, leaning back in his chair to hook the crook of his elbow over the back of it. Those famous, storming eyes bore into hers, yet neither she nor he wavers. He repeats himself, “If that’s what you think.”

Clearly, it’s a dead-end. He’s not one to crack, and she’s not sure which is the fake. His porn-star persona, or the uncaring personality who sits before her now. She chews the corner of his mouth, and moves on. She’ll get him to open up in other ways. “You know me, I have to be candid.” she warns as she relaxes into her seat.

“I prefer it.”

“This last week of episodes, which was your favorite to film?”

“I liked the girls in the shower.” he replies, his nonchalance towards subject matter most would find distasteful is appreciated. He won’t beat around the bush. His intense gaze holds her as he relays those words, and she sees why his co-stars often describe him as “intoxicating.” There’s a sensuality she can’t describe to his features, and his eyes draw her in. “I like when the attention’s on me.” Does he really?

“There was a lot of passion during foodplay.”

“Are you talking about how I ate cake from her mouth?” The way he says it betrays the fact he’s not ashamed, but he’s heard enough about that detail.

A smile tugs its way onto Zena’s features. “That’s the one.”

“What can I say?” he sighs, crossing his arms. Thick tendons folded together in a most pleasing manner. He’s got a beautiful body, and he seems proud of it. “The scene runs away with me sometimes.”

[gilverrwrites]

Do you have any general headcanons you like to share about Roman? Or your take on Roman? Something about his backstory or how he became Black Mask? If it differs a little to canon — just so curious to know 🖤

I have a lot of general Roman HCs, some of which do differ from canon, but most of which just branch off of it. Thank you so much for asking I love you !!!! here is an info dump 🖤🖤🖤

He was not dropped on his head as a child, this was a ‘funny anecdote’ his parents would tell people at gatherings to excuse his disquiet behaviour.

I think he was born with learning and behavioural disabilities that went undiagnosed and often resulted in harsh punishment from his parents.

Regardless of learning abilities, I think he is just dim in the academic sense. He works hard because he can’t work smarter.

Good at physical stuff though, probably played football or whatever the rich kid equivalent is in high school. (Lacrosse?)

May have even excelled in something artistic, something that allows him to express himself but was never allowed too, ‘paintings for pansies’/Toxic masculinity and all. That kinda stuff does rub off on a kid and now it runs deep in his brain.

Torture is his art/form of expression these days, just don’t ever say it like that to him.

In the earlier stages of his career he was a high roller/high spender, which is what caused so many of his endeavours to fail, nowadays he’s more of a wealth hoarder. He likes to have and flaunt, but that doesn’t necessarily mean flash, you know?

Like a good pair of shoes will last you a lifetime as opposed to 50 pairs of trendy shoes?

Nowadays most of his money is spent on home renovations/replacing furniture and amenities that he breaks during fits of rage.

Another reason a lot of his earlier businesses failed is because he doesn’t care about the product. Janus Cosmetics? This man could not give less of a shit about make up.

But nightclub? Drug? Guns? That shit sells itself in a cesspool like Gotham.

He’s a clean freak, has to have things spick and span, and organised a specific way. Wears gloves to avoid the feeling of specific textures. Despite this I’m he’s never cleaned a damn thing in his life, that’s what is lessers are for.

He would never let that show in front of anyone however, can’t be seen as weak.

Side note: He DOES like blood/bodily fluids, like a lot, just in the right time and place.

He’s hard of hearing, not from a medical standpoint point, but because that mask literally is a barrier over his ears.

That’s probably also why he yells so damn much.

He’s for sure a ladies man, and i’ve mentioned before that when he falls, he falls hard. I often write my /reader content from the perspective of him having already fallen for the reader. Realistically, that’s a difficult position to obtain, and he does not treat the other 99% of sexual prospects so kindly.

Well, he might fake kindness to draw in someone that’s playing hard to get but once he’s got them in his clutches he’ll revert back.

He keeps dogs, dogs are far more loyal than people and easier to train.

Does not follow politics, not up to date on the latest news unless it’s relevant to him and his goings on. He has trusted people to relay that information to him, or more aptly a revolving door of people to relay that information because he is prone to shooting the messenger.

Will study up however if he knows he’ll be crossing paths with people like Penguin, or Riddler cause he knows they’ll ridicule him if they find out. does that same for Two-Face but not because he thinks Harv will judge him, more because he wants Harv to view him as an equal.

He grew up in high society, so he’s actually pretty well spoken, just puts on that accent cause he thinks it sounds more authoritative.

Similarly his voice was not that gruff until after years of smoking and yelling.

Actually got a long well with Bruce Wayne as a child. They would have run in similar circles pre- the Wayne’s death. Unfortunately, the next time they met each other Bruce represented everything Roman wanted to be but couldn’t.

Roman actually does have a soft spot for kids but only one on one. - we have seen him attempt to blow up/shoot out orphanages.

Like a group of children he’s had never met don’t register as human beings in his mind, there is no sympathy.

But if you put a shy, little rich boy with daddy issues in front of him internally he’s like ‘THATS ME! I’m him! Must protect.’

Don’t let it touch anything though, god knows kids are sticky and he cannot deal with that. Also, hypocritically he won’t put up with any attitude from them, it’s like a switch. Like father like son. “I got beat as a child and I turned out great.” Sir, no you did not.

His favourite Robin is Damian.

[lesbianwyllravengard]

Please I’m begging you on my hands and knees please elaborate on Luis and Ada being foils

I am SO happy that someone finally asked me to talk about this I know I asked you to ask me I love you so much thank you because once I had this realisation it made me love both of their characters - and the re4 remake as a whole - so much more than I already did.

So first lemme define what a foil is when it comes to characters, not because I think you personally don't know Wilfred but in case anyone's reading this and wondering why I'm calling these characters aluminum wrap. I'm not, I promise it's a real narrative device. A literary foil is "a character whose purpose is to accentuate or draw attention to the qualities of another character". Essentially, a foil requires two characters to be identified, and they exist to contrast, reflect, or exist in an opposite way to their co-foil so as to highlight the other character's weaknesses, strengths, and personality. However, they are often also very similar in technical ways, and thus their behaviours and/or quirks that set them apart show the audience how some things just work for one character but not the other. Think of it like an inverted image, how some details look better in negative space but worse in positive space. This is true of narrative foils. In the remake of Resident Evil 4, Luis is written as a literary foil to Ada.

We first meet Ada in re2, and she's introduced as this mysterious woman who claims to be of the FBI but reveals no further details about herself. We as the audience/player behind Leon have to trust her to get to where we need to go, and she proves herself worthy of that trust. Leon doesn't question why she's helping him, because he believes that she really is FBI and that helping people is her job. He doesn't know her goal, but he's willing to help, and receive her help. However, at the end of re2, we find out that she's actually not FBI, that she was using that as a cover and she is actually a mercenary and spy, whose goal was to acquire a sample of the harmful G-virus and bring it to Wesker who was obviously going to use it for nefarious purposes, and she knew that. Leon (the audience) doesn't know this until the very end.

We first meet Luis in re4. Now in the original, he barely had any substance as a character, and his personality was simply an expression of cultural stereotypes and misogyny, masked under "charming flamboyance". In the remake, however, Luis does have substance as a character. We not only get more out of his personality, but we now know his goals, his flaws, and his interests. And just like Ada, he is a mysterious character with a dark past that led to him making bad decisions and aligning himself with bad people. However, the difference between them and the beginning of what sets them up as foils is that Leon (the audience) finds all of this out about Luis almost immediately. Unlike with Ada, where Leon took her word and went the entire game believing what she said, Leon was sceptical of Luis and had Hunnigan look him up - and sure enough, Hunnigan was able to find all sorts of information on Luis, despite Luis actively trying to make that information as well as himself untraceable. So rather than having the audience trust Luis outright like we did with Ada, and then having that trust threatened when we learn who she is later one, we learn who Luis is immediately, setting him up as someone who we should be sceptical of.

With Ada, by giving us a character to trust and see good in for an entire game only to end it with the reveal that she's actually working for the "bad guys", we are led to think that all of her actions up to that point were fake, that she was simply putting on a cover of kindness and care for Leon. And of course that's the wrong idea, as she clearly does care for him, which we see when he stupidly dares her to shoot him. And she refuses. IDK, even if I loved Leon, I would've shot him then just because he was being a cocky shit about it, but Ada is certainly stronger than me. Ada's actions prior to us finding out who she really is now are tainted, and we're led to see her actions as that of a facade. Adversely, with Luis, by giving us a character who's bad past we know outright and repeatedly meet up with throughout the game, we are led to see all of his actions from that point on as acts of redemption.

We first see Ada as a Good character and therefore all of her actions are that of someone just being herself, but with Luis we first see him as a Bad character, and therefore all of his actions are that of someone who must redeem himself. However, they are both very similar characters; but in the way the stories introduced them to us, and in the order they revealed information about these two characters to us, the narrative influences how we see these characters. Imagine if we had gone the entire game not knowing Luis used to work for Umbrella, thinking he was just Some Guy who happened to live in this village. Leon most definitely would have trusted him much quicker. But that 'Umbrella' background being the first real thing we learn about Luis means that his dark past will always be on our minds when we see him next. And it makes sense to us, given the events of re2, that Leon wouldn't trust Luis, even if the audience does. (Same with Ada; the audience could be distrusting of her, but narratively we see why Leon would've trusted her implicitly in re2.)

Both Luis and Ada are mysterious characters whose real moral alignment we are uncertain of for almost the entirety of their games. Both Luis and Ada tell lies to protect themselves or their cover. Both Luis and Ada withhold information they either feel too ashamed to admit or can't admit, again, to protect their cover. Both Luis and Ada - specifically in re4r - have a recurring theme of change. They both speak to Leon about people changing. They both show their own relationships with change. And yet, their endings are vastly different.

Where Ada withholds information and succeeds, Luis withholds information and is found out by Hunnigan. Where Ada can double cross Wesker and escape, Luis attempts to double cross Los Iluminados and gets found out and captured, which is how we meet him. Where Ada gains Leon's trust almost immediately and loses it at the end, Luis doesn't gain Leon's trust until the very end. Even when Leon shows situational trust in him - accepting Luis's help in the safe house, agreeing to partner with him to get the suppressant for the plaga for Ashley - he still doesn't trust Luis's motives, his goal, or even his character. Leon constantly questions Luis throughout their interactions, unwilling to believe this man would help them unless he had some ulterior motive.

That brings back up the theme of change. Luis asks Leon if he thinks people can change, and then Leon asks Ada if she has changed. Luis's death scene could very well be the first time - or at least, the first significant time - Leon has been forced to confront the idea that people change. His confusion regarding Luis's real motives the entire time as a result of learning that Luis used to work for Umbrella seems to be proof enough to Luis that Leon does not see him as someone who has changed, even though Luis desperately wants that to be seen. Adversely, Leon desperately wants to see some proof that Ada has changed, that she's not using him. He's learned from Luis, but he's stumped by his own personal lack of change. Leon doesn't understand how to identify that kind of change in someone; or at the very least, he doesn't know how to voice it. Ada replies "what do you think?", and this could be passed off as her usual way of avoiding the truth, but really she's asking him "Are you even able to know if I've changed? Did you ever pay attention to who I am, or did you lose sight of my character as soon as you learned something bad about me? Have I changed, or has your perception of me changed? Can I change to you if you never really knew me at all? What do you think about how people change?" (And I love this about her.) Luis is Ada's foil because the way Leon perceived Luis's change was so abrupt that now Leon is looking for change in everyone, even himself. And where Luis doubts himself and has to ask Leon - as he's dying - if Leon thinks people can change, Ada is sure of it.

And of course I have to add some serennedy in this. As @thebrokengate kindly mentioned, the dynamics between Leon and Ada, and Leon and Luis, are opposite. Leon trusts Ada and then that trust is broken; Leon doesn't trust Luis, and then that trust is earned, but too late. Luis isn't just a foil for Ada, but his relationship with Leon is also a foil for Ada's. We see where Luis fails in ways that Ada succeeded when it comes to their characters; but when it comes to their relationship with Leon, Luis succeeds where Ada failed. And it makes his death even more devastating as he had the potential to go further with Leon than Ada could, but he was killed, leaving Leon alone regardless. In both instances, Leon lost someone who affected him personally; but where one was lost with trust broken, the other was lost with their life taken.

Again, by giving us Ada's personality first and her background last, we soften up to her as a character before having to question everything we thought we knew about her, as who we find out she is contradicts what her actions have been. However, by giving us Luis's background first and his personality last, we start out sceptical of him, and when his actions contradict what we found out about who he is, we forgive him. I'll also take this opportunity to point out the misogyny in this fandom, as many fans still dislike Ada or believe her to be a bad person, when they love Luis. in many ways, they are the same character. We were just given details about them in a different order that influenced how we perceive their actions.