#like don't get me wrong some of them get close

[karaaeilish]

★ ride or die; b. eilish

★ military!billie x wife!reader

★ smut `

having a military wife is about being separated. about the constant worry and longing. about wondering when she'll finally come home, and if she'll come home at all. it's hard and it's difficult to always be afraid that your little girl will be left without her mother.

but what's even harder? being close to her. being inches away from her body, not being able to touch her all the time, running your tongue down her neck, leaving a small bite above her collarbone so that all curious eyes could see that the ring on her finger meant only that she was yours. only yours.

you loved going to the gym together. always watching each other's bodies, admiring every curve, every millimeter. running your fingertips over skin hot from the workout, but it was really hard for you to keep your hands to yourself while your wife walked around in an open tank top, completely exposing her arms. her biceps and triceps are on display, drawing the gaze of every single woman and others, clearly too caught up in the movements of her fingers to notice the wedding ring that billie almost never takes off, every muscle that tensed with her every move. it’s just not your fault that a wet spot has started to form between your thighs.

her body is completely soaked in sweat, beads of which run down her forehead, forcing her to wipe them with the back of her hand every few minutes, and you stare. you just can’t stop. and the strange feeling in your tummy aren’t so strong, until she comes up with a great idea: lift her tank top, exposing her hard abs, sparkling with sweat. she calmly wipes her face with it, as if she's not doing anything that drives you and your hormones crazy. not a split second passes before your legs carry you towards her, your fingers wrapping around her wrist, and as you try to pull her towards you, you clearly forget just how big is the difference between your sizes. you swallow.

"darling?" she looks down at you, straight in the eyes. looks so innocent that all you can think about is slapping her, simply because every step she takes makes your mind drift to the most sinful and dirty fantasies, and right now she has no idea.

"billie, please," you whisper, your bubble of patience about to burst. "let's get outta here."

her face instantly clears with realization, lips curling into a sly smirk. she always knows that tone. always knows when you need her like nothing else. she grabs a sports bottle of water, her right hand coming to rest on your lower small as she slowly leads the two of you out of the gym and towards the locker room.

“so what’s wrong, mamas?” she whispers in your ear, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “someone needs some cock, hm?”

your mind goes fuzzy, legs go weak, your pussy throbs painfully with the knowledge that before you can have her all to yourself, you’ll need to get home somehow.

“jus' take your damn things and take m'home, o’connell” you hiss, pushing at her, though it doesn’t do much good because no matter how hard you strain your arms, her body won’t budge an inch until she takes a step of her own. and she does. obeys. for now. “yes, ma’am. but don't forget you're mrs. o'connell too"

her teasing makes your stomach do a thing, nervously snapping your fingers and biting your lip until she drives you home. until a familiar building appears on the horizon and you're already unbuckling your seatbelt, eager to get out of this damn car.

you needed her. so bad. so rough. so raw.

and she's all over you. completely. picking you up awith ease, hands on your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh through the fabric of your sweatpants. "it's so hard to watch you bend over, purposely showing your ass to the world. just fucking begging me to come and take you"

you whine, arms wrapping around her neck, lips pressing to hers in a sloppy kiss that takes your breath away.

"i can't stand watching all these sluts clinging to you like you're a fucking museum piece" you mumble between kisses and billie smirks, lips trailing down your neck, leaving bites and marks for anyone who lays eyes on you to see. she falls to the edge of the bed, letting you straddle her lap. she pats your thigh, silently telling you to get rid of those fucking pants as she fiddles with her tank top, pulling it over her head, revealing her stomach once again, adorned with her well-defined abs. your pussy's dripping. right down your thighs.

billie lies down completely on the bed, beckoning you with her index finger, and you obediently climb on top of her, pussy hovering just above her body as you await further instructions.

"don't be shy, mama. you know what to do" her hand on your hip, pressing down, forcing you down onto her abs. your pussy touching her skin, your eyes instantly rolling to the back of your head, accompanied by a pathetic whine. hands falling on her chest, fingers hooking into her sports bra as you begin to slowly move your hips back and forth, feeling every hard muscle of hers.

"fuck. oh fuck—billie…” your broken whines mix with your quiet pleas as you pick up the pace, trying to hold back the tears in your eyes. your body's shaking, and billie notices it instantly.

“c'mon, baby, don’t tell me you’re already close.” she pushes herself up on her elbows, her abs tensing, your arms go weak and you fall forward slightly, your forehead brushing against her cheek, your hips riding her with relentless speed.

“m'close, so close, billie… i need—” but she doesn’t let you finish, smirking. “shhh, sweet girl. hold it for me.”

she leans back again, both hands on your hips, making you grind against her faster, ignoring your shaking legs and numb limbs. it's only been half a minute, but it feels like forever until you start whining, begging for her permission.

"please. daddy, please" you moan, tears streaming freely down your cheeks. "please what, princess?"

she's such a bitch sometimes.

"please, let me cum. wanna cum f'you" you mumble quickly, body shaking as you try to keep your orgasm on the edge. billie smiles, enjoying your torment. waits before responding.

"such a good girl for me.. cum, mama, wanna hear you" she purrs, and there's no way you can help but scream her name as the pleasure washes over you in high waves. your lips are dry from screaming and moaning, voice hoarse.

you lean over, holding onto her body until the strength completely leaves and you fall backwards next to her, breathing heavily until your heart rate returns to normal.

billie follows suit, kneeling on the bed, her shadow completely covering your body.

“you’re so beautiful from this angle” she whispers, straddling your hips, her hands reaching for her stomach, collecting some of your arousal on her fingertips. she smirks, bringing her fingers to your lips the next second, and you obediently open your mouth, letting them slip inside, putting gentle pressure on your tongue.

“that’s it, that’s my good slut” she shifts position, ending up between your thighs, pushing them apart with her knees until they're as wide as she wants.

her fingers come out of your mouth with a distinctive 'pop' sound, leaving a thin thread of saliva between them.

"now let me take care of my perfect wife" she whispers playfully, fingers slowly tease your folds.

౨ৎ tags; @billiesbabygirll, @amara-eilish, @st0nerlesb0, @bxllxebxtch @mystiquemm, @bilswifee, @dragoneyelashart, @bilssturns, @chrissv4mp, @allyeilishh, @bitchesbrokenpromises, @too-sapphic-to-function, @thefeverburningalive, @peytonglazesbillieeilish, @1nn3rthOughts, @thebluediner, @xiletay, @eilishsfantasy, @ariieeesworld

[katxbuckyx]

Give me a minute to hold my girl. (Bucky Barnes x reader.)

Hello!

I wrote a quick Congressman!Barnes one shot, I hope you will enjoy it! It was not very well proofread, but I will do it when I'll have more time!

Sign count: 5842

Description: When you got out of shadows, there's only one arms, you want to run into.

Warnings: Mention of mental abuse, alcohol, bullying. Almost non existent mention of body insecurity.

The work's mine, I don't give permission to share it anywhere without asking.

(Gif's not mine.)

***

You were congressman Barnes's assistant. You were helping him with the speeches, keeping him company at the meeting, talking with him about his program and about the things he wanted to do, the laws he wanted to present, how he wanted to make the world a better place even though he felt like he didn't belong to it anymore. You were also running him some errands, but mostly it didn't feel like working as an assistant. In your previous job, you were doing everything, including grocery shopping for your boss, but now? Bucky was bringing you coffee, not the way around. He was nice to you, asked how your day was, was small talking to you, which was new because you knew his reserved and grumpy attitude, he was reluctant to let new people in. You couldn't help but get attached to him, you liked him, maybe even more than a boss, but you kept it quiet.

So, when he didn't come to a meeting, after his failed speech to the reporters, and after you gently scolded him for not reading the speech that you had written him, you felt bad. And you decided to check if he was okay. You came to his house, late afternoon and knocked on his doors. He didn't open, it seemed like he wasn't at home. You were worried, so you took out the key he gave you a long time ago, and you entered his house. The place looked like a mess. There was pans with leftover food on the kitchen stove, some half eaten chilli hot dog on the counter. Along with his bill packets that he was trying to read while eating, because there was a huge stain on the page. There was a lot of things thrown around but you didn't see or hear Bucky. The house was dark. You started walking around, calling him but no answer. He really wasn't home... You were even more worried, especially when you saw that his guns and the holders was gone from the closet. Where did he go? You hoped that he didn't get himself in some trouble, you wouldn't survive if something happened to him.

While trying to think where he could go, you heard some screams from outside. People were screaming and running away. You quickly run out to the street, after closing the front door in a hurry. When you were outside, you looked around. In the sky was some black, shadowy mist spreading out slowly, and when it reached people, they disappeared, turned into shadows... Damn, another blip? You thought, and started running away. You didn't go far, before you could hide back again in Bucky's house, you were gone. The darkness hit you.

You found yourself in your family house. You didn't know what was going on, you left your country and your home when you were 20, and you never looked back. And now, you were standing in your childhood bedroom, filled with your things hat you left behind. There was some darkness creeping in the corners and you felt shivers going down your back, hearing the familiar screaming outside the room. Oh, no.... No, it couldn't be happening.... With your breath held, you walked out. You saw your father, drunk and angry, shouting at your mother. What broke your heart, was the sight of little young you, barely ten years old, standing in front of your mom, protecting her. Without thinking, you run in front of both of them, shielding them. When you did that, you went back to your room. It looked like you went back to the beginning, like someone pushed the reverse button. It happened multiple times, before you stepped out again. Thinking that you were doing it wrong... You weren't supposed to jump in front of them... With a fierce expression on your face, you walked back into the kitchen again, but this time, you didn't stand in front of your mum and little you again. This time, you came closer to your younger self, and wrapped your arms around her, sheltering her. You ignored the way your father was shouting, you held her. "I'm sorry, that I couldn't be here when you were little. You wouldn't have to suffer." you whispered into her ear.

When you said that, you disappeared again. Now, you were standing in your primary school. You were looking at some boys hitting some girl, calling her ugly names. You would recognized those pigtails everywhere, and now, you knew what to do. You ran to yourself, shielding you from the bullies, wshipering to her ears things that you wish you could've heard when you were younger: "You're beautiful and you will grow up in someone who is kind, smart and strong. Don't let them bring you down. Don't let them tear your soul apart."

Before you knew, you were back in New York. The city was almost in ruins. Again. You were confused, and there was tears streaming down your cheeks, but you were safe. You were no longer stuck in the shadows where all your pain came back to life.

Standing there, reliving the past again, you realised that this was what the mist was doing... Showing the deepest, moist painful moments of life. Everyone who disappeared there, must have seen them too... "Bucky..." you whispered, thinking about him in that moment. If he disappeared too, he must have seen his past, his past as the Winter Soldier, and maybe even before war. Before his life turned into a nightmare filled with pain and death.

Filled with bad feelings, you were wondering where he could be. You hoped you will find him safe and sound. You started walking toward where the most people were gathering, to the Avengers Tower which no longer had the name, Avengers didn't exist anymore. Valentina bought it, Bucky told you that a while ago. He was looking for things that could brought her down. If there was a place where he could go, it was the Tower. Him and his stupid saviour complex...

When you got there, you were panting heavily, your hair a mess. You were calling his name. You walked around the crowd. Until you saw him... He was alive. A little bruised and dirty, but alive. And that was what mattered the most. He was standing with a group of people from which you only recognized Walker, and Yelena. The other ones were not so familiar, but you could swear that you saw the face of the man wearing red suit somewhere in the TV. Maybe it was in some old communist documentary film? The girl was wearing a leather suit that looked like a protective shield in some way. And that guy wearing a sweater? Nope, never saw him before in your life. Was Bucky catching strays again? Who was those guys? Were they a team?

"Bucky!" you called out his name and he turned around immediately, hearing your voice.

Before you could think, you started running in his direction, not giving a damn about how you look, or how your body looked, you just wanted to hold him. You jumped into his arms, and he caught you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"You're safe." I murmured into his neck. "I was so worried when I didn't find you in your house..."

He just wrapped his arms around you tighter, holding you even closer, even to the point where you couldn't breathe, but you didn't mind that. "I didn't mean to scare you, doll."

You wanted to say something, but John interrupted you. "Look, we don't have the time to..."

"Shut up, Walker." Barnes hushed him. "Give me a minute to hold my girl." he hummed, hugging you tightly.

You looked at him with surprised expression. "Your girl?" you asked.

"My girl." He answered, smiling at you. "Mine and only mine. If you want to." He added, quietly.

"I want to. Of course, I want to." you replied, kissing him on the lips, without hesitation. "I wouldn't fight my shadows to come find you if I didn't want to be yours."

"And I would still be in the shadows, if it wasn't for you, doll." He kissed you again.

[almostwisegalaxy]

Hii ! I'm a huge fan of your works! I really love the way u write and how every story isn't boring even if it is long 😭

Anywaysss, can you pls write a weak hero ahn suho x bullied reader? You can plan the whole story, i just really want to see that dynamic 😩😩 Thank you !

Headcanon of Ahn Su-ho as a Boyfie

Ahn Su-ho x GN!reader

"It's dangerous to love me, because I become dangerous to those who hurt you. I'm not perfect. But I'll always know where to strike if someone hurts you."- Ahn Su-ho

..................................................................................

→Prologue: A Look in Silence

You no longer remember the exact moment he started to stay.

Perhaps it was that day, when your fist was bloody and your eyes were red from holding back too many words. You didn't scream. You don't scream. You hit, you withdraw, then you collapse, ashamed to have given in to that rage again.

And him. He was there. Ahn Su-ho. He hadn't touched you. Hadn't lectured you. Hadn't looked at you like the others.

Just that silence. A silence that was neither empty nor uncomfortable. His is made of listening. Of that kind of present calm, like a tree planted in the middle of a storm. You didn't yet know what that meant.

But he stayed.

→Silent Preamble: The Gaze Before Words

He noticed you before you even realized it. Not like one notices someone charming or intriguing. Not with curiosity. No. It was something else. A form of recognition.

Ahn Su-ho has a way of looking at people without staring, but of reading them. As if he's looking for flaws, not to exploit them, but to quietly slip in some gentleness. He saw you lower your eyes one too many times. He heard the voices around you, those that sneer, those that hurt, even if you pretended not to hear them. He saw your fist clench in your pocket, your nails digging into your palm. He felt the rage. And the exhaustion. And that loneliness that sticks to your skin.

He said nothing. Not that day.

He just left a soda can on the bench for you as he left. Without looking at you. As if it were nothing. As if you were someone who deserved things to be left for them, even in silence.

→The Silences Between You

Su-ho isn't a big talker. But he speaks all the time, in other ways.

In the way he always waits for you to go through the door first, as if he knows your body has learned to tense in every hallway. In his hands that discretely close when you clench your fists, as if he wants to offer you an anchor without forcing it on you.

When you say "I can't take it anymore," he doesn't say "I understand." He says: "Come."

And sometimes, that's all. You come. You sit next to him, back against the wall or shoulder against the bench, and you say nothing. But in his silences, there is space. For your exhaustion, your shame, your hatred. He doesn't dismiss them, doesn't try to erase them. He stays. He takes it with you. He offers you his tranquility like a shelter you don't need to earn.

You didn't know it was possible to be loved like that. Without conditions. Without an instruction manual. Without mandatory healing.

→The Kind of Boy He Is

Ahn Su-ho isn't made of grand words. He's not a poet, nor a man of fiery promises. He's made of gestures. Of strong arms and silent embraces. Of chin taps on the top of your head, of hands that caress your neck when words fail. He looks at you as if he knows. As if he knows what you feel, even when you say nothing. And often, you say nothing.

He senses when things are wrong. He senses it before you do. And it eats at him.

He's the kind of boy who'd rather get hurt himself than see you fall. The one who endures, the one who laughs while masking the worry in his eyes. Su-ho always smiles, but that smile, you learn to decipher it. You see the nights when he's more tense, when his hands tremble ever so slightly when he touches you. Not out of fear. Not for him. For you.

He's tactile, Su-ho. As soon as you enter the room, he pulls you close. His hand slides naturally to your waist, his forehead rests against yours. He whispers absurd things to you, just to hear your laugh. And when you don't laugh, he insists. He doesn't give up. He doesn't like to lose, especially when it comes to making you feel better.

But sometimes, he can't win. Not against everything. Not against how you feel about yourself.

→When You Break

One evening, you come home covered in marks. The ones teachers ignore, the ones you didn't look for, but can't explain without hearing that you deserve them. You want to break everything. Your world, your own reflection, his kindness most of all.

He's there. On the edge of the bed. He was waiting for you. Not like waiting for an explanation. Like waiting for a fall.

You scream. Not at him. Not really. At yourself, at the injustice. You accuse him of staying, when he should leave. You tell him you're worthless, that you'll hurt him, that you're not sure you won't end up like them. That you're too angry. Too broken.

And he doesn't flinch. He gets up. He takes you in his arms. Tightly. Not like a caress. Like a dam. You hit his chest, just once, just enough for your shoulder to give way, and for the tears to finally come.

And you cry. And he holds you tight. And you feel that he, too, is trembling. That he, too, is afraid. Not of you. Of losing you.

→When He Learns

That day, he says nothing. You expected a scream. An explosion. You knew Su-ho doesn't accept harm coming to the people he loves.

He clenches his jaw. He lowers his eyes. He turns his head. He just says: "Is it recent?"

And you don't know what to answer. Because shame sticks in your throat.

So you brace yourself for him to say something brutal. Protective. Or foolish. You expect him to want to settle it with his fists. But he does none of that. He sits down, slowly. He sighs. He looks at you.

And he says:

— I'm sorry this is happening to you.

Not: "I'm going to beat them up." Not: "Why didn't you tell me?" Not: "You should defend yourself."

Just: "I'm sorry."

And in that sentence, there is the powerlessness of a boy who wants to remake the world, but who knows that the only thing he can give you is tenderness. And constancy.

He doesn't ask questions. But that night, he stays closer than usual. He lets you cry if you want to. Scream if you want to. Or remain silent, curled up, covered in cold rage.

He's there. And he doesn't move.

But the next day he doesn't stay there, frozen, his back straight as a taut wire. He blinks slowly. Then he gets up, without a word.

You try to hold him back. You say it's pointless. That it's not a big deal. That you can handle it. These are lies, and you both know it. You see his fists clench, his knuckles whiten.

"You're not leaving me a choice," he says. It's calm. Too calm. A storm before it strikes.

He returns later, out of breath, knuckles red. He doesn't talk about what he did. He never will. But you know. And he knows you know. He kneels before you, places his forehead against your stomach, breathes slowly. And then, he says:

"You shouldn't have endured that alone. You shouldn't have thought I would have left you like that."

→The Days After

He acts as if nothing has changed, but everything is different. You can no longer hide your anger. You can't anymore. And when it explodes, you scream. You tremble. You throw words like knives.

And him? He stays. He takes it. He doesn't flee. He doesn't retaliate.

One day, you break down after screaming. You say you're sorry. That you're broken. That you're afraid of hurting people. That you no longer believe in yourself. That you don't even believe anyone can truly love you.

He holds you against him. So tightly you think he wants to melt into your skin.

"Do you think I love you because you're nice, or pretty? No. I love you because you're real. You've survived things others couldn't have endured. You're standing. You're still fighting. You're strong in a way others will never understand."

→The Beginning: Loving Without Hurting

Su-ho isn't the type to say "I love you." At least, not with words. He has a way of gently putting down his keys when he comes home, of making space for you next to him on the couch without forcing you to sit there. He never asks: "Are you okay?" He asks: "Do you want some ramen?" And in that question, there's everything he doesn't dare to say yet.

He understood very quickly that you don't trust. Not him, not others, not even your own judgment. You observe too much. You doubt too much. You expect people to leave, or hit, or laugh. So he never forces you. He learns your map in small steps, like taming ground cracked by too many tremors.

He is patient. With a patience that isn't obvious, because it doesn't need to exist in drama. He's just there, simply. He waits for you. He doesn't flee when you scream. He doesn't recoil when you despise yourself. He stays. That's his way of loving.

→How He Loves

He kisses you without warning. When you laugh. When you cry. When you look at him without knowing why you love him so much.

He sleeps glued to you. Arm around your waist, leg thrown over yours. Sometimes he talks in his sleep. Sometimes he whispers your name.

When you have nightmares, he wakes up before you. He feels it. He pulls you against him, his chest against your back, his hand slipped against your chest to remind you that you're there. That you're alive.

He shares his favorite dish with you without complaining. And yet, God knows he eats a lot. But when you're not hungry and just need a bite, he comes close to you, spoon extended, tender gaze.

"Eat, just a little. For me."

→The Tiny Gestures That Say "I Love You"

He's the kind of guy who notices when you change shampoo but only says it a week later, as if it was a thought he kept warm for when you'd need it. He folds your clothes when you leave them lying around, but never with a disapproving look. He learns the days when you can't stand to be touched, and the ones when you need an arm around you.

He makes mental lists of everything that makes you feel good. And he offers you fragments of them, every day. A piece of sky. A specific candy. A song he didn't like, but that reminds him of your laugh.

He never says "I love you" like they do in movies. He gives it to you. In thin slices. In comforting warmth. In reassuring silences.

→When He Doubts

Sometimes he thinks he's not good enough for you. That he's only good for fighting, for being strong. Not refined enough to understand your darkest thoughts. He feels helpless in the face of your inner world.

But he never tells you directly.

You see it in his silences. In the times he looks at you without speaking, his throat tight. In those moments when he falls silent, not because he has nothing to say, but because he doesn't want to say the wrong thing.

So he does what he knows how to do. He takes your hand. He massages your shoulders. He carries you on his back when you say you're too tired to go home. He offers you his sweatshirt because he says you always look cold, even when it's hot.

And he looks at you. As if you're all that matters.

→The Fear in His Own Silence

But he has his own cracks. And you see it, sometimes. In his silences heavier than usual. In his eyes that seek a fixed point on the ground. In his gestures that slow down. He's afraid of not being enough. Not strong enough. Not good enough. Not strong enough to thwart your demons.

He smiles, but it's an apologetic smile. One that says: "I wish I could do more."

He loves you, but he doesn't always believe it's enough.

And you realize it. And that day, it's you who steps forward. You take his hand. You don't say much. But he understands.

He understands that you're staying. And that, too, is love.

→Finally, Balance: Two Tired Warriors

You don't save each other. You don't fix each other. But you stand upright, leaning against each other, in a world that often tried to make you bend.

And some evenings, you don't talk. You listen to the silence. You breathe at the same rhythm. And that's enough.

It's enough for one of you to say the next day:

— Do you want some ramen?

And for the other to reply:

— Yeah. But stay with me while it heats up.

And he stays. Always.

→The Soothing

With Su-ho, it's never perfect. He makes mistakes. Sometimes he forgets. Sometimes he talks too loudly. Sometimes he gets angry because he worries too much.

But he always comes back. Always. And he apologizes with actions. With arms that hold you so tightly you forget the world. With "I'm here" whispered over and over until your heart stops hurting.

He looks at you like a sanctuary. Like something too precious to be broken again.

And you, you learn. You learn to love yourself a little. Because he loves you enough for two. Because he believes in you even when you're down. Because he fights, not just against others, but to teach you that you deserve love.

And if one day you forget that, he reminds you. With his hands, his simple words, his presence.

With Su-ho, you never need to doubt for long.

Because he's the boy who fights. For himself. For you. For both.

→Learning "Us"

Su-ho doesn't want to change you. He wants to understand you. He wants to learn your language. Not just your words, but your silences, your blind spots, your non-verbal scars. He learns, slowly, how to comfort you without suffocating you. How to be present without overwhelming you.

He makes mistakes. He knows it. He gives you space when you want him to stay. He sometimes stays when you just wanted to be alone. But he apologizes. Always. Without drama. He learns. He grows with you, not for you.

And you, you discover that anger can melt. That you can be afraid and still move forward. You don't change. Not right away. But you take steps towards him. Towards yourself.

→The Future

You don't know what you'll become. But you know that when you look in the mirror today, you hear his voice in your head: "You're still here. And so am I. That's all that matters."

And you find yourself smiling. Not because you're healed. Because you're on your way. And someone is waiting for you on the other side.

Someone like Ahn Su-ho. The one who loves without a sound, but with all the strength in the world.

............................* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

Moments with You":

→Between the Hours

Su-ho works late. Most nights, or almost. He takes odd jobs after school: cooking in a small restaurant, deliveries on the city's damp streets, his hands tired, his pockets rarely full. He doesn't do it for himself. He doesn't tell you, but you know he's thinking about tomorrow. About the two of you. About what you could build if the days weren't so short.

But even when he comes home late, he never comes home without a smile. Not forced. Just soft. He pushes the door open, sets his bag down, and the first thing he does is kiss you. A kiss on the forehead if you're already asleep. A long, slow kiss on the mouth if he finds you still awake. As if he'd been waiting all day for that moment.

"You're still up? Were you waiting for me?"

You nod. He rests his forehead against yours, his hand gently finding your waist. He inhales slowly. As if you are his respite.

→The Language of the Body

He's tactile. That's how he says the things he can't put into words. His way of loving you comes through his hands. When he sees you're a little tired, he runs his fingers through your hair, lies down near you, and slowly massages your scalp. Sometimes, he takes your hands and traces the lines of your palm with his thumb, as if he's reading your future and wants to write himself into it.

He kisses you often. Not always on the mouth. On your cheek, your neck, behind your ear. Quick kisses when he's running late. Lingering kisses when you're alone. When you're lying together, he always has an arm around you, a leg thrown over yours. He doesn't like distance, even in sleep.

The kisses between you have many languages. There are those given to reassure. Those given to laugh. And those that come from that silent waiting, in the evening, when you finally reunite. Those are slower, deeper. He pulls you against him, one hand on your neck, the other around your waist, and his lips brush yours until you yield, until everything else fades away.

→The Little Touches

He has his rituals. When he sees you're stressed, he cooks. Even if it's late. Even if he's exhausted. He makes you fried rice or ramyeon with an egg cracked in it, and makes you eat spoon by spoon while you watch a show you've already seen a hundred times.

When you get sick, he's worse than a worried mother. He touches your forehead every two hours, gives you your medicine with a glass of water in hand, makes sure you've eaten something. He sleeps near you, one hand always in contact with you, even lightly, even in your feverish sleep.

"You're allowed to be weak. It's okay. You have me."

And when he's feeling down? He doesn't say anything. But you see it. So you reverse roles. You place a warm towel on his neck, you have him sit between your legs and wrap your arms around him. He sighs. And he lets you. Because he knows you understand.

→Conversations Between Silences

At night, sometimes, he talks more. When it's dark, your legs are tangled, and the world seems far away, he tells you things he tells no one else. He talks about his fears. About that feeling of always having to be strong, for everyone. About the weight he carries even when he smiles. About the exhaustion that isn't physical.

"I want you to be happy. But sometimes I wonder if I'm enough for that."

You tell him yes. That he helps you breathe. That his arms are your refuge, his words your security. That even when he thinks he's just an ordinary boy, to you, he's quite the opposite.

And he falls silent. But you feel his hand gently tighten on yours. As if he's saying thank you without saying it.

→Laughter and Light

Su-ho loves to make you laugh. It's like a mission for him. He makes stupid faces, deliberately sings off-key while doing the dishes, invents absurd nicknames. He catches you by the waist to spin you around in the kitchen, kisses your nose telling you you're ugly when you pout.

"You know you're ugly when you pout? But like, cute ugly. Like... love ugly."

You laugh. A lot. Sometimes until your stomach hurts. Sometimes until you cry. Because happiness, in this house, isn't grand, but it's real. It's in the burnt rice on Tuesday, in the borrowed socks, in the arms sprawled on the couch, too tired to move, but not too tired to love.

→Simple and Sacred Intimacy

There are no fireworks in your intimacy. No need. Just shared silences, long gazes, hands seeking each other. When you kiss, it's not rushed. It's a deliberate slowness. A kiss that begins with a look, that passes through the brush of a finger on your cheek, the corner of your lips grazed, the rising warmth.

Su-ho loves long kisses. He likes to feel your breathing change, your body gently tense against his. He likes when you press against him, when you open your arms and he can completely envelop you. He covers you with small kisses afterward. On your collarbone, on your forehead, in the hollow of your wrist.

And he looks at you as if you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You have no idea how much I love you."

→An Evening Like Any Other

He comes in, phone still in one hand, delivery bag in the other. He smells of rain. He looks for you, sees you on the couch. He collapses next to you, drops everything he's carrying.

"Tell me I don't have to cook."

You show him you ordered takeout. He smiles. He sprawls out, his head on your lap. You run your fingers through his wet hair. He closes his eyes.

"You're my favorite place," he whispers.

And you believe him. Because he has never lied with his eyes.

→Tomorrow

It's not always easy. There are the schedules, the fatigue, the little arguments. But there's also this bond, this thing you've built together. Slowly. Carefully.

And when you doubt, when the world seems too big, too heavy, Su-ho is always there. Arms open. Heart already reaching out to you. A boy who fights by day, but who, in the evening, yearns only for the peace of finding you again.

With him, love is not a storm. It's a soft, constant light. A home.

A "I'm home," whispered against your lips.

............................* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

Conclusion :

Sometimes the world slows down. Not abruptly, but as if holding its breath. There are those evenings when nothing is pressing. No work. No classes. Just the two of you. The silence between heartbeats.

He's lying beside you, head resting on your stomach, fingers drawing absent circles on your skin. You don't talk much, but everything is said. He doesn't need to look at you to know you're smiling. He feels it. Like you feel the warm wind before the rain.

"You know..." he murmurs, his voice a little hoarse with fatigue but full of burning tenderness, "...sometimes I think that even if I have nothing else, if I have this, you and me, I have everything."

He doesn't wait for an answer. It's not a question. It's a confession. A gentle prayer. A naked truth.

You curl your fingers around his. The sun sets behind the window, leaving an orange light in the room. The walls breathe with you. Nothing threatens. Nothing hurts.

That moment, that simple shared beat in the slowness of the evening, is what Su-ho calls happiness. Not the spectacular happiness of movies or dreams. But the kind you build softly, like a makeshift hut in the rain. Strong enough to protect you. Fragile enough for you to reinforce it together.

And in this home made of gestures, laughter, and secure silences, Su-ho loves you. Unconditionally. Without escape. Completely.

Tomorrow, he'll go back to work. He'll fight again. He might smile a little too broadly in front of others. But here, at home, he doesn't need to pretend. Here, he loves. He is loved.

And that's all he ever wanted.

..................................................................................

Other weak hero class fanfictions here

@mariii-0001 @mizxuqii @iiwsmr @emswirls

Sieun New headcanon

Gotak New headcanon

[vaguely-concerned]

thinking about how deeply lucanis' life has been defined by a lack of control of that life -- as he himself points out, even before the ossuary went and carved the headline out again with big bloody letters. of course he reacts badly to losing what little control he did manage to construct for himself even within those circumstances.

(namely: experience has taught him that things (caterina, loss, pain, love, all horribly and indelibly intermingled) will happen to him whether he wants them to or not and there's nothing he can do about that... but he gets to decide what's let in or out of his soul as it happens, even if he has to close it all down and deaden and numb himself out in the process. (even if that means he drifts further and further away from illario, who's been desperately reaching out and trying to keep hold of him until he finally gives up completely and tries to cut the bond all at once when lucanis doesn't seem to reach back anymore.) it's such rare well-observed freeze logic solidly constructed from the bottom up, I'm still so impressed with it.

the way illario seeks constant external means to cope with caterina's abuse and importance in his life -- he can't win her admiration or acceptance or warmth (or like. acknowledgement even, at times :') ), no matter what, so he goes out and finds those things in others and then disdains and dismisses it for how easily and falsely it's won from them. he plots, he conspires, he tries to beat her at her own game however clumsily, he tries. lucanis doesn't try things that way. he's not about 'how do I improve my situation' by nature, he's 'how can I stop this from getting worse'. he avoids, he internalizes, he hunkers down and makes himself nothing until the pain maybe ends. he's fundamentally not a plotter, he's a reacter. an expert assassin pantser, if you will, to illario's clear and stated exasperation fhsak. man I love them. illario says 'get us out of here!!! if you loved me as I love you you'd help me get us out of here before it kills us both', lucanis says 'there is no other place, there's nowhere to go, all we can do is endure. and if it kills us... well, that's just family. that's what love is (the way things are headed I'll die first anyway so it's fine I won't have to face losing you)', and they're equally baffled and hurt by each other's POV. but they're both right, and they're both wrong. there's no 'right' way to deal with caterina's treatment of them, or their situation. the house always wins, if you pardon the expression. house dellamorte still stands and that is what matters to caterina in the end more than anything.

it also fits so well b/c like... their core wounds are that illario is the least favourite and is constantly dismissed, so he has to prove to caterina again and again that he matters. not even that he's worth love or respect or warm regard, but that he's here at all and as such should be considered. he has to shout 'in case u forgot I EXIST!!' at the top of his lungs or else be rendered nothing within the family structure (and himself, because it's all about family, that's all that really matters. in some weird twisted way I think caterina openly declaring him before all the other crows to still be of house dellamorte -- and no one from house dellamorte kneels -- is kind of a victory for him, as much as it's also a furthering of a prison sentence and public humiliation. house dellamorte brainfuckery goes hard.). lucanis is the favourite, and it's the double-edged sword that he gets all the affection and attention but also all the control and impossible expectations. drowning under all of that constant stress and close evaluation, his brain whispers 'I don't exist' to try to escape, to hide and hold on to the deep parts of himself that are crucial to life but not part of the perfect grandson caterina demands of him as the price of her love.)

I think a lot about how what seems to disquiet lucanis the most post-ossuary (as it would anyone with that psychological makeup) is the dissolving of internal boundaries and control he's been relying on, which is part of what spite symbolizes. his anger and reactivity has seceded from the union to the point of personification as a little guy (a little guy he resents and fears for his unpredictability and invasions into regions of his psyche he wishes to stay frozen and barren, and yet cares about deeply, loves! and also constantly dismisses and frequently helplessly lets down unless he's helped to learn to do otherwise. does this remind you of another relationship in his life, perhaps. it makes me feel nuts to think about the illario/spite parallels thanks for asking), and now that little guy is out there running the show freely the moment he glances away or closes his eyes. literal nightmare scenario I feel for him so deeply. so much of his coping is predicated on being able to Not do or feel or want certain things, and that's out the window now, Spite has Opinions. Spite refuses to stay wisely in place even if that place is hell on the logic that if you move you could find yourself in a place that's even worse, somehow. Spite actually wants to experience the world, however fucked up and scarring the way he arrived here, not just endure it. Spite means he has to face that maybe illario wasn't wrong all those years, at the same time as having to admit and face what illario has done to him, and figure out what to do about any of it.

anyway. mary kirby ma'am that's some good fucking metaphor work. thank you, and sorry about all the shit that happened

[threegoldfish]

Marc wonders if Harrow is even believing him, everything he's saying here; While Marc had hoped, even expected the other to do that, as he's a doctor and all of that, he's... suddenly not so sure anymore, for a reason he cannot quite grasp just yet. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the other doesn't prod as much - maybe it has to do with the fact that medication is brought up just like that, without wanting to know more before taking that route.

It finally prompts Marc to look up from that bottle, for a dark gaze to meet a much brighter one that looks straight back at him. Harrow almost appears... expectant, in a way, and Marc doesn't like that, not at all; Something within him shuts its doors immediately, causes thick brows to knit and a mouth to press into a thin line.

"...You don't believe me?" A question, but also a bit of a statement, perhaps. Maybe Marc's wrong with what he feels, with that vibe he's getting from the other there... but with how his chest suddenly feels a bit more heavy than before, a lump forming within his throat, he just cannot ignore that feeling. He swallows, licks his bottom lip, and gives the bottle between his hands a bit of a squeeze.

"---Or is it something else? The whole thing of you just... sitting there, asking me about whether I want to take some pills, just like that? ..Didn't you say yourself, mere moments ago, that Steven's not a bad thing?"

Suddenly starting to feel protective, Marc shifts a bit on his seat, straightens his spine. He blinks once, gaze firm, before he puts the bottle back down onto that desk in front of him, then folds his arms across his chest once more. He's cautious now, a bit wary, incredulous...

"You hear me talk about him, you want to give me pills. I opened up to you about--- about knowing of him, and you want to give me pills. I told you that I've heard the conversation you both had, and you want to give me pills?! ...The things you said to Steven, speaking about me, they sounded a lot more friendly and kind than I've ever expected you to be - hell, Steven even wrote me that letter you asked him to write me, hoping to make us both communicate. And now that I sit here, kicked my own ass to make myself thank you for being so nice to him... --- you want to give me pills? Set me on some kind of medication?!"

Fuck, Marc almost feels betrayed. It's not necessarily about the fact that these pills are, apparently, for depression and anxiety - but rather that he offers them so quickly, as if only having waited for this moment to happen so he could start to use some weird drug on him. No, Marc is not having that, not at all.

Teeth grind together behind closed lips, and Marc huffs out another breath - all of that previous vulnerability and softness gone, replaced by something hard, something hurt, something that regrets having spoken out in the first place. He should've kept Steven a secret, he should've tried to keep him back and away from now on. All he did was to bring them both into some kind of danger here...

"...Who knows, maybe those pills aren't even for the anxiety-bullshit. You think I'm shizophrenic, want me on some sedatives or whatever to keep me calm, take Steven away from me, yeah? Is that it?!" Okay, that one's a bit far-fetched, but... Marc cannot help himself. This is about Steven, after all, and Marc turns into a very feisty thing when someone is messing with that part of him.

Arthur nodded, watching Marc politely. The way he spoke, the way his breath was as he spoke. The way he seemed to not want to meet Arthur’s eyes - it seemed that Marc had a habit of that, when being honest. As if it were harder to look someone dead-on and say the truth, than it was to look at them and lie; he was used to lying, then? Perhaps that was typical, for life in the military. 

It looked like there was guilt, too. Heavy guilt, over something that didn’t seem fair to himself; Arthur didn’t say much to the man over it, instead just allowing him to have it. If he felt a need to hold onto guilt, for now, he could - but Arthur did write a brief note of it, just something to watch for. 

“You were there,” he repeated, with a nod. It wasn’t a question, only a confirmation; saying he accepted it, that Marc wouldn’t have to prove it if he didn’t want to. He practically did, by going into what had happened; Arthur had taken care of Steven, sure. But he would have done that for anyone. 

“I’m grateful that you were listening,” he agreed. “And I’m glad I could be there. That he wasn’t alone — that neither of you were.” Another note, silently written down, just something he found important to take down. He didn’t set the pen down, but did lean back again, looking over Marc. 

He didn’t take offense in Marc choosing not to look at him. In fact, he found it almost meant more; it was a type of trust. A quiet type of trust, but a type of trust all the same - one that Arthur appreciated. 

“You care about him,” he pointed out, carefully. “That makes sense. And your instinct doesn’t seem to be pushing him away - I think that’s protective. And I think that’s a good thing. That’s a very good thing, Marc. You’re a very good man, too.” 

He let his fingers tap for a moment, before leaning in again, folding his hands in front of himself. “I’ve been thinking for a bit,” he offered. “If you’d be willing. We could try putting you on a medication - for you, it would help with things like depression and mood. For Steven, it would help with his anxiety. It wouldn’t do anything too severe to either of you, but it could take the edge off - I think it might help you both, if you’d allow it. Just to try it, just for a bit.” 

He watched Marc for a moment, as if there was something hidden under that question. There was, of course; things rarely came at face value with Arthur, especially in the course of treatment. “Would you like to try that? It’s alright, if you wouldn’t.” 

[needtobehisprettyboy]

Jayce's end speech to Viktor is not profound—not to me at least

I know people have already talked about this but I wanted to rant about it too cause it's been bothering me for a few days and it's one of the reasons why I don't interact with the monogamous JayVik side of the fandom much besides reblogging some things I find cute and liking posts. The shippers are ok, but the source material that they often reference really annoys me -.-

I don't blame JayVik shippers or anyone else who talks about the scene for finding it really romantic and/or deep. In another show, the scene likely would be 100% and the writers themselves (that Amanda and Linke who shouldn't be trusted) talk about it like it's soooo magical and wonderful and awe-inspiring. Depending on how you interpret the scene, it definitely can be.

Unfortunately, the scene just rubs me the wrong way. Disabled people on reddit and no doubt on Tumblr have addressed their dislikes of how the scene went. In general though, it just didn't touch on the true issues at hand.

While I'm not disabled, I have had the 'just love yourself' bit of advice from multiple people and?? Ok?? How does that help me in a world that hates people like me?? I learned to love my body, but various people treat me differently because of it. I learned to love my skin color, but I won't ever be treated like my white counterparts. I learned to accept my transgender identity, but I will still be considered a degenerate freak regardless.

Whether you love yourself or not isn't the issue. It's others loving you or not that is. It's law enforcement looking down on you. It's politicians not properly acknowledging your struggles (if they even acknowledge them at all) that's the problem. It helps to love yourself, but your love and acceptance of who you are isn't the magical fix all.

‼️CW: ‼️⚠️‼️ discussion dealing with death / a close death encounter ‼️⚠️‼️

‼️SKIP IF YOU WANT‼️

Not to mention, Viktor had every right to be upset with his deteriorating health. What I just said applies to this too—it doesn't matter if you love yourself or not you'll still have issues that won't go away. It's a horrible fact to live with (having physical issues that can't be solved with self love) which is especially true for people who think they're just wasting away.

I actually had a close encounter with slow death. It is sincerely horrifying feeling yourself get weaker and wonder whether something serious would happen. I can't imagine knowing I'm going to die and not have a way to get better. My brush with death was entirely preventable and I got better (by not letting myself breath in carbon monoxide omfg), but Viktor couldn't get better. He was heading towards his death bed. It just messes me up having people brush over that. I mean come on!! That man was going through some serious shit!!

I still feel fear over what happened to me even though I knew how to prevent it!!! What he went through was not addressed properly at all. It was NOT "imperfections" he was about to fucking die and that kind of experience makes you feel a cold dreaded desperation. IT ISN'T SOMETHING TO DISMISS NOR THAT CAN BE FIXED WITH SELF LOVE!!! There is no beauty in helplessness. It would be one thing to accept death and know that you can't always change your fate, but that wasn't what was talked about.

AAAA I HATE YOU TWO BASTARDS (the writers not JayVik)

‼️end of CW‼️

Arcane is a show that doesn't have in-world homophobia or racism (thank fuck please continue that), but it still has classism among other types of oppressions. I don't quite know if it has ableism—if you think it does let me know cause I'm always open to new info and different perspectives.

Viktor's main problem was his terminal illness which was caused by outside sources and wanting to make a real impact on the world. Jayce himself said Viktor suffered from pollution from the undercity. No doubt because of the different availability of treatments in the undercity and Piltover's government not giving a shit to help those they're responsible for, he wasn't able to get it caught in time which led to his terminal illness developing/worsening before his work was done.

And Viktor told Heimerdinger about wanting to be remembered!! He got a decent way up the social ladder for someone coming from the undercity who didn't have a patron or a house to his name, but he would've gone much further if he was from Piltover. It wasn't that Viktor thought his disability was a "weakness", it was that his illness was killing him and he KNEW other people viewed him as less than for things he couldn't control. I mean Jayce might have looked down on him too or been wary of Viktor for being from the undercity had he been told up front. Viktor's illness wasn't a weakness, it was something that stopped Viktor's dream path with other factors such as his place of birth being obstacles he managed to overcome—somewhat.

I don't know that it was necessarily because he was disabled that people looked down on him. Maybe part of it was (I SINCERELY don't know whether Arcane would have in-world ableism regarding Viktor's disabilities), but part of it was DEFINITELY because of where Viktor came from. Also, his main objective in leaving Jayce, and even before he left, was to help people. It wasn't to "fix" imperfections. That came after.

While Jayce was off playing councilor, Viktor was working on Hextech and wanted to show it off as soon as they showed some good progress. He didn't have time to wait around because of his TERMINAL illness, so he wanted change now and tried to change himself to let him live longer, not simply because he thought he was "imperfect".

For goodness sake people are allowed to want to change their situation for the sake of survival!!

Arcane fumbled the ball by making Viktor's objections change and try to act as if those were his main objectives all along when it was shown ON SCREEN that the Hexcore was corrupting/influencing him. His dreams were pure, nice and they ended up becoming corrupted because he descended into Godhood not understanding what his "help" was doing to people and having his humanity stripped away. Viktor wanted other people's suffering to end, but that wasn't the problem. Wanting people to get proper help for their issues wasn't wrong—it was the WAY he went about it that was wrong.

That's a good plotline right there yet it was ignored/misconstrued.

Jayce's speech of imperfections just didn't make sense.

Not with what we know of the previous context!!

Viktor's illness wasn't something to be ignored and things wouldn't have changed if Viktor "loved" himself. It had nothing to do with loving himself!! That wasn't the root cause!!

It horrified me that Jayce resurrected Viktor especially with Viktor saying he didn't feel cold anymore after he was revived aka he didn't have the same human feelings he should've. The resurrection CHANGED him. He didn't reject humanity. It was taken away from him!!

Jayce's speech just didn't fit with what truly caused the situation. At the end of the day, this was only caused by Viktor's and Jayce's desire for Viktor to survive. If they weren't so desperate for him to live, Viktor wouldn't have gone to Singed, got the shimmer, used it on himself, experimented, etc, etc and Jayce wouldn't have revived him without his consent. There was nothing inherently wrong with them wanting Viktor to survive but they did cause horrible things due to how they went about it yet somehow the show acts as if it is inherently wrong and points out the issues BUT IN THE WRONG WAY?? As if Viktor just wanted to not be disabled bc he wanted to be a better person or something and not bc he was about to die??? As if Jayce forcing Viktor into being merged with the Hexcore that killed Sky wasn't a big issue?? As if either of them were gonna accept Viktor's progression and that all Viktor had to do was accept himself the way he was???? What?? WTF?????

Of course, I'm really focusing on one part of the speech. Like I said earlier, depending on your interpretations the scene would be cute, but just hearing Jayce not get the overall fucking point was annoying. It's not his fault tho bc to be fair, he did get the job done and let Viktor finally rest in peace—

It's the damn writers' fault (•\ _ /•*) !!

People act as if the scene is so cute and I can't really tell them that they're 100% wrong because it IS written as Jayce being sincerely understanding and accepting and Viktor was shown to appreciate his words, but I just can't get over the fact that the true issues were overlooked. "Beauty in imperfections" my ass. There was another lesson that should've been taught about acceptance and it wasn't that one.

Ugh, I really hate seeing the scenes pop up on my dash and people quoting it or whatev. That and them making it a meme of Viktor becoming God because of a gay break up as if he didn't have every right to be upset over Jayce reviving him using a dangerous method without his consent and, in fact, with an explicit request for the thing involved in said dangerous method (the Hexcore) to be destroyed.

Rip my poor girl Sky... deserved more than what happened to you (⁠T⁠_T⁠) and sorry Mel that the writers made JayVik's relationship (platonic or not) "deeper" than what you had with Jayce as if you're not special too (⁠个^个⁠) each one of you guys (Jayce, Viktor, Sky, Mel, etc etc) deserved better ｡⁠:ﾟ⁠(⁠;⁠´∆`⁠;⁠)ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

UGHHHHH I HATE THOSE TWO+ ANTI SEMITIC, RACIST, IGNORANT BASTARDS!!!!

Arcane would've probably been better if they weren't in charge ((⁠ノ⁠｀⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻ !!!!

[hokusu]

#DabiHawks ⛈️

Hawks is a little entranced with thunder storms. It's his little secret.

He can't fly in the weather but it's only more of an excuse to call it quits. The "Aw shucks, looks like a storm is brewing I'd better head home!" that he announces without a trace of remorse in his voice.

After all, they can't risk the number two hero getting electrocuted from the sky. Even the commission has no grounds to complain.

Heavy rainfall doesn't send him home, but thunder and lightning sure does. So Hawks will laugh and flutter his way home, catching the beginnings of rainfall against his wings.

It's strikingly cold and makes him shiver beneath the fluff of his coat, but he's a little in love. And when he gets back home, a soaked bird against his balcony floorboards, there will be warmth in the form of scarred hands waiting for him.

Hawks hides a smile as he strips himself down and let his feathers carry away his clothes into the washer. He shakes his wet locks of hair just as Dabi hands him a fluffy towel, straight from the dryer.

"You're home," comes the murmured greeting.

It's touchingly soft—Dabi standing in his living room with one of Hawks' very own oversized sweatshirt merch always is. It softens against his frame, against all of his lethal edges. It's only for Hawks to see. A villain in the world, domestic in his house.

"Sure am," Hawks grins. "The storms coming."

Dabi steps closer to run a heated hand against the wet barbs of Hawks' wings as he exhales teasingly, "Little hero bird afraid of some lightning?"

Hawks eyes twinkle in amusement as he leans into Dabi's touch, inhaling the scent of Dabi smelling entirely of his home. "Nah, just my get out of jail free card."

Dabi chuckles as he presses warm lips against Hawks’ cheek, tracing raindrops off right off.

The imagery of a younger Hawks staring out the windows, gaping with the strike of lights in the sky, is something he keeps close to his heart. Hawks had mentioned it to him in a passing, that he hadn't minded the storms as much as people tended to think he would.

Birds fly south for the winter, but Hawks had shrugged with a sheepish tug of his lips and admitted almost childishly, "Secret… I kinda love thunderstorms."

Dabi hasn't stopped thinking about it since.

He remembers the first time Hawks was on a mission in another city and the way he had excitedly video called Dabi without a thought, not remembering that between the two of them they had only called when it was urgent or pre-scheduled.

And Dabi, in the middle of a battle had picked up because it was his bird, of course he picked up.

It wasn't an emergency though, wasn't a pressing issue but to Dabi, maybe it had been pressing all the same.

Because Hawks had excitedly showed him what he was seeing, the lightning that flashed across the skies as Hawks dangled on a rooftop somewhere.

And oh, how his heart soared.

Dabi grinned. He wasn't even mad, the swell of his heart beats so noticeably even as a recruit gone wrong tries to kill him.

It was a few minutes before Hawks realized Dabi wasn't home, wasn't sheltered from the rain and Hawks had asked, alarmed and apologetic now, “Is someone attacking you? Shit Dabi, I'll hang u—”

Dabi juggled the phone in one hand, fire blazing in the other and had cut him off just as fast. "Don't be,” his breath comes out a little uneven, but he's still fond. “It'll be over soon enough. Just keep me company and watch the storm, yeah?"

And Hawks had blinked wide golden eyes right through the screen, nodding and eyes flickering between the storm and Dabi's every time he heard a beat too loud on the end of the line.

But as Dabi promised, the fight ended soon enough. Faster because Dabi couldn't keep his little bird waiting.

Now they make it a habit. On the occasions when lightning strikes the skies and thunder booms across the world, Dabi will take Hawks into his arms and they'll admire the storms from his penthouse windows, the floor to ceiling lengths giving them an unobstructed view of all the heavens have to offer.

Dabi will watch as the arrays of stricken light illuminate against the gold of Hawks' eyes and casts a glimpse into their otherwise darkened room, the feathers of Hawks' wings fluttering in excitement at each crack of light, his lips falling in open wonderment and a whispered "Pretty" as Dabi thinks—

Hawks is infinitely prettier.

And Dabi's secret? He loves the thunderstorms now if only because of Hawks, but he surely loves watching Hawks during the storms even more.

It's the little things with Hawks and it always will be.

[caseyjonesisinthehouse]

Ok I just realised this is nigh impossible to read if you dont have good vision, so a transcript will be placed under the cut here

Ep 30-32: Transwarped by Marty Isenberg, Michael Ryan, Marsha Griffin

Bumblebee's Private Journal

Wow, what a solar cycle! And I thought yesterday was crazy, what with the bridge and all. So, let's review. Sari's a robot? Longarm's a traitor! The Orion's a dude named Omega Supreme, oh, and it's he's lost in space. So, given all that junk, how do we warn Cybertron that their head of intel is a spy? Answer- Bulkhead repairs Megatron's space bridge! Pretty slick idea, Prime, we just go and warn them ourselves, and as an added bonus we can take leave in Iacon.

Off Bulky and I go to the ruins of the mines for salvage. Even witnessing it first-servo, I still can't wrap my processor around Bulkhead as a space bridge genius. Talk about "does not compute", am I right? He's all "don't trip over the power core" this and "careful with that homing beacon generator" that. Maybe I should have listened, cuz I picked up one of them and then the next thing I knew I was in OUTER SPACE. I mean, smack-dab in the middle of nowhere, stars all around me. Made me wish I had my turbo boosters, so at least I could move. I hung out up there for a while, bored out of my helmet. I was thinking about going into sleep mode when I warped randomly into a DIFFERENT part of space.

Different is better when you're bored, right? WRONG! I got swalled by a giant rock thingie. One gulp, down I went. I felt myself warp again, then the rock guy starts moving around like crazy. I was getting a lot of comm link static too, so I guessed I was back on Earth or just maybe somewhere in the Commonwealth. Never was I so glad to see sunlight than when the monster split open and collapsed into a zillion pieces.

But the shocks don't end there, no. Guess who saved me? Was it good old Bulkhead's wrecking ball? Some sweet ninja-moves by Prowl? Maybe a little magnet action? Uh uh, no way. It was Sari! I shoulda seen it coming. Since she's actually a robot, she used her key to upgrade herself into a teenager with wicked sweet powers. That might have been a mistake, though. After finishing off the last of the fragments of the rock lord dude, Sari tried to power down... and failed. Her upgrades started going out of control all over the place, smashing up the city! I wanted to help her, so even though Optimus warned me to stay back, I didn't listen.

Remember me writing about how not listening to Optimus is never a good idea? Let me second (third? fourth?) that. I got in too close to her and suddenly BOOM. Laser blade, right in my chest. I know she didn't mean it but it hurt like nothing I've ever felt before. My system crashed.

I don't know exactly how long I was offline. Thank Xal that Docbot managed to patch me up in the field. Then he took me back to the plant for about 10 megacycles of repairs. He even wired my turbo boosters back in as an optional upgrade, but told me to use them only in emergencies. (Like there's a shortage of them around here or something!) I don't blame Sari, it wasn't her fault. I look forward to hearing about how they managed to stop her without hurting her.

End page.

To the right of the text are two reference images of Bumblebee. One shows him with the damage he got from Sari, and the other shows him with bandages around his chest.

Some extra notes:

A solar cycle is equal to one day. A megacycle is 2.6 hours, and there are 10 megacycles in one solar cycle.

In terms of anatomy, a servo is a hand, and processor refers to the brain/mind.

absolutely fucking insane move from the almanac to a) have a recap of part of transwarped from bee's perspective, b) somehow make him getting stabbed even more emotional, and c) USE REF IMAGES FROM WHEN HE'S HURT????

[holorform2009]

Are you still open for head cannon requests?

If so can we get some for 3008 y/n?

Thx :]

Art request is closed but head canons are welcome! But don't expect me how long will I answer your request tho because my focus is re writing the forsaken series!

`√°•.•°•-——-: ̗̀➛ Head Canons!

3008! Child reader will be that one kid that would always make the others have grey hairs, especially guest 1337.... Like you always go so far away from the base having an adventure by yourself to get furniture or food supplies and it took you five or seven days to return from the base and you were greeted by all of them frantically asking where the hell were you been.

And then you are grounded, again.

But that doesn't stop from going outside though, you always have your ways to sneak out and avoid Dusekkar's sight because he is in charge of looking out for you in time out. Typical 3008! Child reader...

3008! Child reader also give noob a heart attack, even Elliot *cough cough* Guest 1337 *cough cough* when you came back all injured because it was blood moon that time and you couldn't outrun all of them due to the employees chasing down your ass, let's not talk about that one tall and short employee that can run so damn fast...

But anyway! Like I said about you being comfortable around Dusekkar, they would always used him to stop you from getting out of the base, like please stay here you're not healed yet— and no! No! DUSEKKAR THEY'RE GOING OUTSIDE! HELP!

I imagined 3008! Child reader is always pissed off of everyone's presence like you had woke up on the wrong side of the bed but when Dusekkar showed up your mood immediately changed and you suddenly became docile when he's around you.

Everyone did noticed this and now they're going to use Dusekkar to ask you to stop or tell you something else like "Refrain using slur words, as of age, you shall say" and then you'll be like "Okay!" And gives him a thumbs up even though you don't understand him but you feel like he's saying 'don't say bad words, you are allowed if you're as of age'

The survivor gang can tell that Dusekkar is your favorite guy, and will use this as an advantage, much to your dismay... Well you can't exactly say no to your favorite guy! That's why all of them used him on you.

3008! Child reader is kinda like a cat that has one favorite person, like you'd show your claws at them and hiss at them but when Dusekkar came to pick you up you'll go all cute and purr like an engine while staring at him with your black beady eyes blinking at him cutely like you hadn't clawed Two Time in the face. Just imagine that, that would be extremely funny lol.

Stfu Dusekkar is my favorite survivor

[lokisprettygirl]

Fix You Fix me (Bill Skarsgård! Eric Draven x Female Reader) (Au)

Read Chapter 14 here / Series Masterlist

Chapter 15

Summary : Girls night at Patricia's leads to more revelation of Eric's past.

Warning: Fat shaming, body shaming, manipulation, domestic violence, child abuse, cheating, reader has a spine, emotional abuse, reader's weight will be mentioned because the fic demands it

Eric had your thigh between his palms as he pressed them into your chest.

You couldn't help but smile, you noticed how he wasn't even looking at you now that you two were officially together. He was so shy at times, it was adorable.

“Well now that I don't have to play pretend ..can I just say you look really hot in this position?” he looked up at you, finally meeting your eyes, a shy smile graced his plump lips.

“You'll get me fired” he said as he leaned closer, your thigh still in his hold.

“Mmm don't worry..the owner lives in my neighbourhood..I can ask him to go easy on you” he chuckled as you said that. He liked this side of yours, flirty, confident, it was so hot.

“I heard he's a real jerk,” he said as he deepened the stretch. Your eyes finally squeezed shut as you felt that ache.

“Heard wrong mister..he's kind of perfect”

His heart warmed at the comment, he leaned down to kiss your forehead before he pecked your lips, he still had to brace himself everytime and thank all the lords that you were allowing him to touch you like this.

“You're getting flexible…that's good”

He grinned as he held the stretch a little longer, hands steady on your thigh. His touch was firm, professional but there was a tremble in his fingers now, like he was just barely containing himself.

“Flexible, huh?” you teased, your voice low. “Is that why you're smiling like that?” You sighed in relief as he finally let go of one side and moved to another.

“I'm smiling because you're making it very hard to stay professional.” You couldn't help but bite on your lower lip as he said that.

“Should have thought of it before you pressed me down on the floor and got on top of me”

“True” he admitted with a breathy laugh, and finally let up on the stretch, gently lowering your leg. He helped you sit up, still kneeling in front of you on the mat. The gym was fairly empty. It was 9 pm now.. nearing the closing time.

As you both reached the front desk Chance smirked.

“Do I have to sit in front of the security monitor and watch you two canoodling now?” He asked, making your face flushed in response.

“You have an option to just.. not watch.. you know?” Eric retorted while you pretended to focus on signing your exit time. Chance rolled his eyes before he clapped his hands together.

“It's been a long week. What are we doing tomorrow?”

“Ahhh sorry..you two will have to fend for yourselves..we are having girls night at Patricia's..I guess Shelly didn't tell you huh”

Chance made an exaggerated sad face as you told him that.

“Hey man do you want to get a new tattoo..i need to do something” Chance spoke again so Eric sighed.

“I can't do that a week before the competition..it's a hassle to cover these as it is” your brows quirked as he said that.

“Hang on..you know how to tattoo? And you hide them before every round?” You posed the questions for both of them so they looked at each other.

“Guess we don't talk enough about poor Chance here huh?” Chance said, faking as if he was offended you didn't know.“I do have a setup in my apartment..it's exclusive though, appointments only”

“That's so cool” you said to him so he winked and nodded in agreement. Shelly had so many tattoos on her as well.

“Why do you hide them? Is that a rule?” You asked Eric again so he sighed.

“Yeah,” he said. “They have guidelines. Visible tattoos can cost you points depending on the judges. It’s not a strict rule, but… well, some of them are old-school. Traditional. They want clean lines, symmetry, and no distractions.’

“Makes sense I guess..can I help you with your covering ritual this time then?” You asked him, you could hear Chance groaning at the sickening flirtation.

“Ohkay I'm out of here” he said as he grabbed his bag and put on his Jacket.

“Hey I promise I'll get a new one after the competition,” Eric said to him, making Chance smile.

After closing up the gym Eric took you out for dinner. At your favorite place. Salt and Pepper. You had reached a point where you didn't bother hiding how much you loved their food.

“Did you ever bring Regina here?” You asked him amidst taking the bite, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Once.. she hated it. It wasn't aesthetically pleasing.. whatever that means”

That bitch.

She has been real quiet these days on her Socials and that wasn't a good sign. You wondered if she knew about you and Eric. You had been ignoring your mother's calls as well for five days now. You knew Jake must have gotten to her and you also knew she'd have nothing good to say about your relationship with Eric..

Eric watched you for a moment, his eyes softened .

“You okay?” he asked.

You blinked out of your thoughts and smiled

“Yeah. Just thinking about how anyone could hate this place. The food’s incredible”

He chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Right? I still don’t get it. She said the lighting made her look pale..there were times when I wanted to tell her that it's not the lighting” You chuckled as he said that “You’re not thinking about her, are you?” he asked as he reached for your hand, he grabbed your fingers between his thumb and forefingers, gently caressing the back.

“No” you lied. “Okay, maybe a little. Her and Jake and my mother”

Eric’s jaw tightened slightly, his thumb now tracing circles on the back of your hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You were still getting used to it. With Jake whenever you had a concern, he'd just ask you to not overthink, talking about it wasn't really an option so you were still getting used to the way Eric handled your situations.

“It’s just constant noise in my head. My mother never liked when I did anything on my own terms…i remember her being so disappointed when I told her I wanted to move here and uhhh ummm do uhhhh dancing”

Eric's brows raised in curiosity as you mentioned it.

“You dance?”

“Some bug I caught in my early adulthood.. and then I came here and realised that I'm nearly not as good as those other people and it wasn't really easy sustaining on my own..my parents had almost disowned me” you chuckled but he wasn't amused.

“They disowned you for following your interest?” He asked so you shrugged as if it didn't hurt when you thought about that time.

“Not officially but they refused to help with money and even when they did they kept asking me to reconsider my choices, never feeling proud when I aced in a class or had a good day”

As you started to say your thoughts put loud you realised how fucked up it was.

Eric didn’t say anything right away. His thumb had stopped moving, but he hadn’t let go of your hand. His gaze was fixed, the moment he realised you were feeling bad he got up from the adjacent seat and sat next to you. His arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“That’s not love. That’s control.”

You blinked, startled by how plainly he said it.

“They made you feel like your value depended on what you did for them. On how well you followed the script that they had for you, the one that they could sell to their friends and families. That’s not support. That’s… pressure dressed up as concern”

Everything he had learned about your mom so far only made him feel enraged, he had gotten really blessed with Patricia.

She had every right to despise him, she didn't really have to take him in when she did, he wasn't her burden to bear to begin with but she did. She was an angel in human form, he couldn't understand how your mother could do this to you.

Eric held you closer, pressing a warm, steady kiss to the side of your head. You didn’t pull away. If anything, you leaned into it.

“I’m sorry they made you feel like you had to apologize for dreaming,” he murmured. “You deserved to be celebrated. Not guilt-tripped.”

Your eyes were stinging again. You hated crying in public, but something about him just made it feel… safe. Like you didn’t need to keep bracing for judgment that would come out of nowhere.

“Mmm but then I ended up a librarian so not really much of a step up from my failed dancing career ..my mom still tells everyone that I work in corporate or something” you chuckled again. He pulled away a little just so he could hold your chin and make you face him.

“Being a librarian isn’t a step down,” he said, voice low but steady. “You’re surrounded by beautiful stories written by beautiful people like you. That’s honestly kind of amazing.”

You stared deeply in his big green eyes, unsure how to respond. No one had ever made it sound like that before. Most people just nodded politely when you said what you did and then asked what your plans were for the future. As if being a librarian was another step on the ladder.

“I don't regret it..i wouldn't have met you if it wasn't for the library” you smiled as you leaned in to peck his lips.

The walk home was fairly quiet after that heavy conversation, your fingers curled around his. Unbeknownst to you, someone has clicked a picture of you both as you walked hand in hand.

*********

Next night you spent at Patricia's, after Shelly passed out on the couch, Patricia asked Stella to rest too. Then she took you to her room.

“Sit down..I'll show you something” she said as she wheeled around her room.

You chuckled before you took a place on the couch. She pulled a file from her closet before she wheeled back to you.

“Do you recognise the woman in the picture?” She pulled out a drawing from the file so you took it.

It was unmistakable, it was you. Drawn in charcoal, it wasn't a perfect image, just like you weren't perfect, but you could tell it was you, standing in the window of your room, your elbows resting on the edge, a cup of coffee in your hand.

“I didn't know he could draw,” you said, lost in awe at the detail, the way he had captured you in the way no camera could.

“He only does that when something or someone catches his eye” you smiled as she said that. But then you saw the date at the bottom of the picture.

“Wait..this must be a mistake right?” You asked her, it was dated six years ago. Not long after you came to live in the neighborhood.

“It's not a mistake” she said as she passed you other drawings..it was all you, at the coffee shop, at the grocery store. All those places you used to see Eric before. It was way before he even started coming to the library.

“I don't think he remembers making them either, he often draws when he's completely stressed, never looks back at them when he's done..me being me I collect them like treasures” she said softly, your eyes were already teary.

It was unnerving to see yourself on the paper like this, drawn through someone else's eyes, not in a creepy way but more like you had been noticed even back then and then preserved.

“I used to see him around all the time” you murmured, thumb tracing over the outline of the figure . “Before he even came to the library, I often saw him at the coffee shop on 5th or sometimes I'd see him running down the block, headphones in, eyes forward. He never looked at anyone. I never thought he even noticed me” she smiled as you said that.

“He noticed..he just didn't want to make it real” you looked at her confused as she said that. “Eric has always been a little different. Does he ever talk about his father?” She asked softly so you shook your head in response.

“Well..his father is one of the reasons why he never wanted to get involved with a woman..i still remember that day, he was a month shy from sixteen.. there was a girl that lived next door to us, Cassie, she had a silly little crush on him-” you smiled as she narrated the story. Of Course she did, you'd too if you were his neighbour at that age.

“One day she came crying to me telling me to teach my son some manners because he didn't know how to behave with a girl..I was immediately worried, wondering what my sweet bug had done? Deep down I knew he could do no wrong..not to a girl” you tilted your head as you absorbed the information. That was something you knew too, he might be rude at times especially when women flirted with him at the gym but he'd never hurt anyone.

“I confronted him and then he burst into tears, telling me how Cassie wanted him to become her boyfriend and how he was never going to become someone's boyfriend or husband ever because he knew they hurt their women-” her eyes teared up as if she was peering into her past and giving you a glimpse of it.

“That's not what a mother would ever want to hear from her child, listening to him talk about how he didn't believe he could ever give or receive love was heartbreaking” you placed your hand on hers so she wiped her tears and smiled.

“He keeps his walls up you know? So when he saw you in flashes he didn't think much of it, it was easier to pretend you were just another person in the crowd, even though he was drawing you all the time..you didn't become real to him until you said his name and smiled at him when he saw you at the library”

Tears rolled down your cheeks as she finished. You couldn't fathom it, being a part of someone's thoughts for years, not realising it, wasting those years with someone who didn't value anything about you.

“I am speechless right now ..I don't know what to say-”

“You don't have to..just don't tell him about this.. he'd hide from embarrassment” she let out a chuckle so you did the same.

“It will stay between us” You made the gesture of sealing your lips shut, making her smile.

“You must be wondering how could he go with someone like Regina after all this”

Well that was a thought you had even before you knew anything about him, even when you didn't know about his past you often wondered what he was doing with someone like her. They were so different from each other.

“He didn't choose her, she just fell in his way, he was trying to move on and she wasn't not persistent, I'd give her that” she chuckled. “He let her build a version of him that looked good online, it helped him too, got him a following, more members at the gym” Patricia continued. “Regina was safe, in the way pain sometimes is. Familiar. He thought if he played along, maybe he could pretend he wasn’t meant for anything deeper or real.”

“But he is” you whispered.

Patricia smiled again, this time with something softer in her eyes. “Oh, he is. That boy has more depth in his silence than most people have in a thousand words. But he’s spent so long punishing himself for his past, for things he couldn't control, the anger that lives in him that mirrors his father, he's often worried something would tick him off and he'd snap..just like his father used to and he'd not want to drag anyone down with him when that happens”

You sat back, swallowing the knot in your throat.

“He could never hurt anyone, not a girl or a woman, he's not capable of that” you said to her, you weren't trying to console her, you knew him, he was incapable of harming anyone like that, anyone who didn't deserve it, especially you.

“He needs to believe that my dear..that's why he was so afraid of talking to you, afraid of hope and rejection, afraid of getting too close, he borrows his happiness in pieces and even then he believes he'd have to pay it back someday” you nodded as she said that.

“Look at me I'm being such a downer on our girls night”

She said as she wiped her tears so you shook your head

“No, I'm truly grateful to you Patricia and I'm grateful that you're here with him, he deserves that..he never talks about himself, but I think I'll slowly make him open up. I want to be there the way he has been there for me” she placed her hand on your cheek before she leaned and kissed your forehead.

“You're truly something special my dear, the moment I saw you at the store i just knew he chose well”

After that heavy conversation it was time for her sleep as the medicine had begun to kick in and you didn't want her to get sick so you helped her to bed and bid her a goodnight, as you came to the living room you covered Shelly with a blanket before you headed for the guest room.

There was a missed call from your Mom again but you ignored it, there was another one from Eric so you called him back.

“Hi there” you mumbled softly as you laid on your stomach on the bed, legs flailing, heart racing.

“Did I interrupt the girls' night?” he asked, making you chuckle

“Mmmm absolutely not, everyone else is asleep..”

“Did you have Fun atleast?” He asked softly you hummed in response.

“So much fun ..though I do miss you, and I wonder if you'd be open to sneaking into your own house like a thief and spending the night in the guest room..with me?” His blood warmed at the sound of your voice, he still had to pinch himself to believe any of this was actually happening.

“That is a tempting offer”

“Mmmmm and I'm wearing your tshirt too if you needed more motivation -”

“On my way”

You chuckled as he hung up. Ten minutes later he was softly knocking outside your door..

As you opened you saw him, wearing a white shirt as opposed to his usual black, blue jeans, his slutty forearms on display.

“You came so fast-”

“I ran a redlight i believe.. broke a few laws” he said as he stepped in and then locked the door behind him.

“Good, I like my men with a criminal record” the words left your mouth before you could stop yourself. He flinched internally for a moment before his hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you into his chest. He didn't know that you knew about his past, but you knew that you knew and you wanted to be more careful with those jokes.

He leaned down to kiss you as softly as he could, but then it heated up quickly, his arms hooked under your hips as he lifted you up, his mouth latched onto your neck, kissing every inch of the bare skin he could find, he didn't want to rush this, especially knowing how you felt about your body at the moment. He didn't want to do anything that would hurt you. He laid you down on the bed and got on top of you.

“You lift me up as if I'm not 150 pounds”

He smiled against your skin, before he cupped your cheeks. “That 150 pounds,” he murmured, “is made of every beautiful thing I have ever wanted to hold close to me. It’s all mine now..150..130 .. it won't matter as long as you're healthy and I'll make sure that you are. Healthy..happy and safe”

You caught his gaze, and in it, you saw something fierce and tender, a promise that made your chest tighten. With Eric it never really was about your weight but how you felt about it.

He leaned down again, lips brushing over yours like a soft promise, grounding you both in that moment, in the feeling of being utterly, completely wanted.

“It feels so good when you touch me” you mumbled, voice a low whisper against his mouth, you placed his hand under the shirt, his shirt that you had put on. His breath hitched at the gesture, heat rushing up to his cheeks, blood rushing to his cock.

Your hands slipped beneath his tshirt, fingers caressing the back, you could feel each muscle under your fingertips, you could probably name them too now since he had a habit of reciting them whenever he made you workout.

“I want.. I want to tell you something” he mumbled softly as he pulled away a little, placing himself on his palms.

“Tell me anything” His eyes searched yours, his face flushed, but it wasn’t just arousal anymore, it was something else.

“It's a bit embarrassing,” His hands trembled slightly where they rested beside you.

“It's okay..you can talk to me Eric” you murmured, brushing your thumb lightly against his cheek.

He looked down for a moment, the tips of his ears burning. “I’m not like your ex or the guys you’ve probably known before” he said, voice strained with the weight of something long carried. “Regina was my first. And I mean that in every way..never told her, but then she didn't really care about that aspect of our relationship”

Your heart cracked a little at the way he said it as if he was ashamed.

“I know how it sounds.. I'm a man in my thirties and I might give the impression that I do this everyday with different girls but it's not true” a small smile escaped your lips as he said that. That's not what you ever thought of him, sure he was sinfully sexy with the body of a Greek statue but he also didn't give the impression as if he was easily available.

“It's nothing weird or embarrassing..you don't have to feel as if it is.. I haven't been with many people either..that's not a bad thing”

He finally looked up at you again as if he couldn't believe you weren't making fun of him for that. It's not as if he didn't know what to do in bed, he got a hang of it with Regina, it didn't happen often but whenever it did happen he made sure she had an orgasm, that she was satisfied.

“You make things easy to talk about”

He leaned down to kiss you softly, his words made you giddy.

“You have been doing that for me since the beginning”

“This doesn't change anything?” he asked,

“Not at all, in fact it makes me want you more, explore you in ways you have never been explored before” you murmured as your arms wrapped around his neck again, fingers gently caressing his scalp. “You're so sexy and you don't even try..not one bit” 

Your words almost made him lose it in his pants, like a teenager but he controlled.

His arm wrapped around your waist as you cuddled close to him all night long. Next morning when you woke up he wasn't there, he had left a note behind though.

At the gym :) Come whenever you want or rest. It's Sunday. Miss you baby. Can I call you that? Like the sound of it. Thanks for last night..really.. I mean it - Eric  

God how was he even real? 

You really wanted to spend the day with Patricia and then go see Eric when he wasn't busy but then you received a call from Shelly, she had left Patricia's early this morning as she had a spa appointment. 

“I think I'm gonna have to pull out the screenshots again..that fucking bitch needs a lesson” 

You were confused by the anger but you knew it was about Regina.

“Wait wait wait ..what happened?” You asked her as you didn't follow her anymore so you didn't get immediate updates. You had a feeling she was being quiet on purpose.

After days of silence Regina had posted a “tell all" video on her youtube channel, describing how her boyfriend Eric cheated on her with ugly fat girl he met at his gym and the video had gone viral.

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist @loushaw131460 @wiseyouthinfluencer @purplerainx1 @bloodykisserr @muchwita @mariaenchanted @a-differentbrandof-beans @kikibit @venuslayla23-blog @somedayimagines @sn0wybowie-blog

[dreamyblanket]

Hey, you know what? Can we please give all of the beasts a comforting hug? Because they NEED some comfort, so they'll get it ! However, if you don't want to, then it's alright, really! I can understand how it is !

P.S: Here's some comforting squid!

く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡 ~~ ♡

I have too many asks atm to answer this with that many drawing unfortunately T . T

But! With my mediocre writing and deplorable spelling I'll describe what I think a hug from each of them would feel like!

I know this isn't the reader comforting them and more like a description but uh I'm not that good at writing so cut me some slack please ^^u

Let's go worst to best ^^

Ok, guys. Don't kill me but I think Shadow milk would be the worst u.u

He already has noodle arms and definitely doesn't hug anyone [I also hc he's weirdly cold to the touch] so his hugs either end up 1 of 2 ways.

1] Waaayyy to tight because he's annoying you.

2] Really awkward and stiff because he's not used to being so close to someone in a comforting way.

Mystic flour is next because she straight up doesn't hug people. Don't get me wrong if you really want a hug she'll give you one but it's feather light and verry quick.

Even then, it's still endearing. He clearly trust you alot ^^

Next issss Burning spice!

Don't tell anyone, but she prefers it when you lay your head in her lap, she likes to pet you.

At first his "hugs" are rib crushing and uh, borderline threatening because he's probably trying to goat you into fighting him. But once you get past all that and he's actually willing to spend quiet moments with you, you'll find his hugs are actually really nice.

Burning spice has a warm hug that's surprisingly gentle for how he usually is, I think he also smells a bit like a mix of cinnamon, clove, and a lil spice.

Last but not least... Eternal sugar ♡

When the chill of the night sets in, his arms are the perfect spot to rest in.

Unsurprisingly, her hugs are the best.

Gentle and inviting, she holds you like your the most precious thing in the world. She'll wrap her wings around you just so you can be a little closer and tell you how happy she is with you by her side.

It may or may not turn into a cuddle session tho ^^u

Don't blame her though! You just make her so happy!

[evil-by-noon]

Agoraphobic Caretaker.

Whumpee dragged themself into Caretaker's front yard to hide behind their walls.

They thought it was unoccupied- it used to be a group home or orphanage, but there are no kids there anymore- many of the windows have been closed and curtained for at least a year now.

Caretaker finds them by chance after sunset when they notice the gate is ajar and assume the wind blew it open. When they realize it's not broken, they get REALLY nervous-

Only to find what's basically an injured animal passed out behind the wall next to the gate.

Oh, now this is right up their alley.

They're not a pushover- Whumpee is hurt and traumatized, but also stubborn as hell. Caretaker knows how to wrangle them without going too far- Whumpee actually appreciates it. It makes them feel normal.

Caretaker even helps Whumpee train and get their strength back. Caretaker is quite strong themself. Even when Whumpee has recovered more, they still have night terrors and flashbacks- Caretaker doesn't have any trouble subduing them when they lash out.

But Whumpee notices something strange. Caretaker absolutely REFUSES to leave the grounds. They check the gate multiple times a day, someone drops off necessities every few weeks in exchange for some herbs Caretaker grows. Nothing is preventing them from leaving, right?

They're a little reluctant to let Whumpee leave, but just a bit. Whatever.

So, cue Whumper coming back for Whumpee.

They don't step foot on Caretaker's property- that'd be dangerous, and besides... They don't have to.

Caretaker walks Whumpee up to the gate when they leave to buy the weekly groceries they've been going out for. Whumpee pulls down the hood of their cloak and waves goodbye-

As usual, Caretaker's heart skips a beat when Whumpee steps over the threshold.

But this time, Whumper's people pile on him the moment he steps into the street- they were hiding behind Caretaker's walls...

Caretaker manages to grab one who got too close and another comes over to assist, but both get downed pretty much instantly. Caretaker throws them at the ones attacking Whumpee, but it's too late- Whumper has Whumpee in their grip.

Caretaker is shaking. They're a step behind the gate.

Whumpee is confused. They were protecting Whumpee, right? Why...?

Whumper laughs, stands just out of reach, taunting. They point at a scar on their neck.

"What's wrong, Caretaker? Come get them. We both know I could never win against you."

Caretaker takes a step forward, but what's wrong with them? They're pale. Their palms are clammy, they keep grasping and ungrasping their fists, opening and closing their mouth.

"Help-" Whumper squeezes Whumpee's neck.

Caretaker clutches their chest, they feel cold, their heart is beating so hard but it feels like it'll just stop any moment now. They're shaking. They try to still themself, but their muscles spasm without their permission. They have to crouch and lean on their knees, staring at the ground. At Whumper and Whumpee's shoes.

They take a step back.

Whumper chuckles and sighs.

"So predictable. Nice to see you're the same as ever, Caretaker. Thanks for nursing my poor Whumper here back to health for me. I'll see you around, hm?"

And drags an uncharacteristically crying, begging, and confused Whumpee away with them.

[deltaruminations]

SPOILERS for both chapters (mainline story beats only). just some. HOT REACTIONS FRESH OFF THE PRESSES

i cannot fucking believe this madman was originally going to release all of this AND chapter 5. that shit would have killed me. i think pretty much everyone underestimated how quickly the story would escalate. fucking insane

nothing in the world could have prepared me for chapter 3. the team really just let their freaks out on this one. utterly deranged and constantly disorienting to play blind. i truly do not have words to describe the cocktail of emotions i felt seeing tenna on-screen for the first time. in hindsight it's funny as fuck that toby let his design be shown in the press kit because that little console border art was not even close to being a meaningful spoiler for the real deal. if anything the expectation of a Normal Guy just made it hit harder LMAO. i might be in love with tenna

i like that everyone in advance was like "tenna is going to be so horrible he's going to be awful" and it's like no he's about as sympathetic as queen, just more unhinged

tenna gaster parallel Bigtime i think,,,,,, i mean gaster might actually be a terrible bastard but the romhacking type stuff in particular is like. yeah

the use of the game-in-game controller gimmicks was really cute and a great vehicle for character exploration. i liked that a lot. honestly i was kind of dreading chapter 3 because i'm pretty dogshit at minigames but i thought it was handled well. i will say as of chapter 4 i'm maybe a little concerned about the difficulty level going forward as someone with pretty terrible twitch reflexes/hand-eye coordination but we'll see

raise up your bat "true" lyrics......... god dess fucks

i can't even begin to parse the bunker or kris's cellphone calls or the mayor. i guess i'm tentatively on board with the idea that the three symbols are people contacted by/working with the knight hence why they have their own codes. the thing about sacrificing undyne(???) is fucking nuts what does that even mean

dessroom note from playing (verbatim) (context is mint tin of weird looking leaves in the drawer): DESS HOLIDAY WEED SMONKER!!!!!!!!

roaring knight fucking crazy i don't think it needs to be said LOL. dessknight REAL and so much better than we could have imagined. i was wrong about dessknight. dessknight kicks ass. the design is insane and she's so smug and sassy with it too lmao i love this bitch

i'm ALMOST tempted to guess that the RK isn't simply dessknight but rather some kind of horrible almagamation of dess's AND gaster's fractured mind-parts or whatever (skeletal design, gun's, stigmata) but i'll hold off on that for now

church dark world just overwhelming as fuck in general i don't. know what to even say about it. the second i went to move on a horizontal climb and that fucking column 3D ROTATED i started pogging

i'm guessing the Bad Prophecy Ending involves killing noelle or some shit fuck it maybe noelle angel real after all

one immediate crack theory about the Church Prophecy (i'm sure i'm not the only one who raised an eyebrow about this) is that some combination of the "three heroes" is not actually who DELTARUNE is positioning them as being, or at least it wasn't MEANT to be them -- ex. "susie's" role could be filled by dess. "cage with a human soul and human parts" is so vague it could obviously also refer to the vessel but if we want to get CRAZY with this it could even be like... a humanoid skeleton... SORRY i'm just saying like ribcages... i doubt this is anything i'm just. saying

i liked jackenstein as a character and thought his encounter was funny but in terms of gameplay i was pretty much like OK Fuck This Actually after enough rounds. sorry. i do think it's very funny to foreshadow & tutorialize The Fucking Titan with this poor shitpost of a guy

the titan looking like the silhouette of a huge skull before it's "revealed" is. Troubling lmao i can't even begin to parse what that would mean. i wouldn't guess that gaster is a titan but also if dess is a titan plus all those scarred & crying eyes motifs associated with the titan FUCK IT maybe. i don't know why he's appearing halfway into the game and letting us whale on him but who fucking knows what his machinations are anymore

...anyway kind of a dumb thing to give a shit about after everything else that happened but as far as i'm currently aware Baby Bones Theory lives on? extremely important note i took while playing (verbatim) (context is looking through the window during chapter 4 light world):

what i'm saying is the pattern of papyrus being notably un-papyrus-like continues. almost as if he. is not papyrus. I'M JUST S. I'M J

SKELETON HOUSE IS MESSY

IT'S MESSY

PAPYRUS IS A NEAT FREAK

AAAAAAAAAA

OH also lol soft confirmation of soriel? toby got the nerve to do it? good on him, RIP kris's home life tho lmao

[come-into-my-parlour]

What if you demand to have my breasts out at all times when we're at home. And then your friends come over and you see I'd put on a shirt. So you get mad at me and sulk. When they ask what's wrong you say I don't love you because I don't listen to you or do what you ask. So I sigh and take my shirt off and my breasts are out again, fully visible. Your friends are quiet for a bit before they start to laugh and say they can't believe you did it and got me to agree. I blush and my chest goes all red. They laugh harder. You smile at me.

- So you do love me!

Then you reach and start to play with my nipples. I blush even harder and bite my lips so I don't start to moan. My nipples grow and I squeeze my legs as tight as I can.

- But how much do you love me?

Then you lean down and start to kiss all over my boobs, lightly sucking my nipples. I don't know whether to look at you or your friends who are quietly watching you, watching us.

You keep going and I finally break and moan loudly pressing my boobs into you.

- There's my good girl! Do you want to be good for me now? In front of my friends? Show them what a good girl I have? How much she wants to please me.

I look only at you and slowly nod.

- Good.

Then you slide your hand down my pants and start to rub my pussy. Its already wet.

- Let them hear you. Let them hear what a dirty perverted whore I have.

I whine but shake my head. You've never called me that. I don't want to. I don't like this.

You shove a finger deep inside me and start to rub my gspot while you grab my hair and pull it roughly. It hurts. So why do I moan..

- You will do what I say or I will punish you.

- No..

I barely whispered it but you heard me.

- No? Oh, is that so?

You pulled your hand out of me and pulled me up from the couch. You undressed me before I even knew what was happening. I was left naked in front of your friends with my nipples erect and my pussy leaking. I was panting and I turned around to leave but you grabbed me and pushed down my back so I had my ass up in the air. Then you started to slap it. Hard and fast. The force of it almost made me fall but you held me with one hand while the other was making my ass red. Why did my pussy tingle when you were doing that. I was back to biting my lips.

- You will do what I say, slut. Or I will have you strapped on all fours on the floor like an animal and edged for 24 hours with no breaks. I will find strangers from the street to come and unload into your ass. I will make you beg and beg and still not let you cum. Do you understand me, whore? Nod if you do.

I nodded. I looked at your friends and they all had their cocks out and were jerking off quietly. I closed my eyes.

- Now then....

You were stroking my ass and moved me so I was standing visible for your friends.

- Doesn't she have the most magnificent tits?

You held them up and pinched the nipples. Your friends gave different affirming answers.

- Come on, sweetness. Let's show them your pussy, too.

You pulled my leg up and placed in on the table so my pussy was on full display. I was so wet, I was sure they could tell. I was so embarrassed, I didn't know why I was so aroused by this filth.

- I'm sure you can see how wet my whore is but in case you can't....

Then you started playing with my folds as my pussy was making the lewdest sounds. I was blushing even more but it felt so good. I started to move with you, rubbing myself on your fingers. At some point I started to moan. I had even begun to touch my nipples. When did that happen.. before I could second guess reality you roughly grabbed me and turned me around. You held me by the chin as you gave your next command.

- Lean forward and spread your cheeks so they can see your asshole.

My eyes were wide with shock.

- Show them your last hole. Now or I will punish you.

I softly nodded and slowly leaned down and spread myself. I'd never been so embarrassed in my life. You sat down and watched me. Then you carresed my cheek and pushed your fingers in my mouth.

- You will now suck me in front my friends. You will lick my balls, you will deep throat my dick, you will drool on me, all while you keep your ass spread for an audience to watch and hear what a whore you are.

Then you pulled out your semi hard dick and said "Begin."

I leaned down and followed your instructions. I could hear grunts behind me but nothing else. I was only looking at you. I had your balls in my mouth. I licked your tip, your shaft, I sucked it, I kissed it, I gagged on it. After a while I got so into it, I forgot about the audience.

- Good girl. You've pleased me. Now turn around and sit on my dick. I want you to bounce on it while they watch. Make me cum. You're not allowed to cum though so watch yourself.

I did as you commanded. I speared myself on your dick and started fucking myself on it while you held me by the hips. My tits were swaying and bouncing too. And I could see your friends watching us, watching me. They looked mesmerized. For some reason that made me wetter, hornier, wilder. I was fucking you harder, your grip grew stronger. I was so close to cumming but kept myself in check. You ordered me to and I wanted to please you.

- Faster. I'm about to fill you full of my cum in front of my friends. Don't you want them to see how good you are at fucking yourself on my dick? Faster, whore. Go faster!

You screamed that last bit and it gave me the energy to go even faster. My tits almost hurt from how hard they were bouncing around. Then I felt you cum inside me and you stilled me.

- What a good whore you are. You have done well, slut.

I whimpered despite myselft. Why did that praise make me feel so good.

- I can feel you clenching around me, whore. Do you want to cum?

- Yes, please!

- Mmm. You have to be extra good to get that reward. Do you want to be good for me? Good enough to be allowed to cum?

- Yes, yes. Yes, please. Please!

- Good whore. You will cockwarm my dick in your ass and hold your legs by the knees to keep them spread. Then my friends can come and eat your pussy out for as long as they want. While they're doing that you're allowed to cum as many times as you want. If I feel like it, I'll fuck your ass until I want, too. Do you want that, whore? Does that sound good?

You leaned and bit me on the shoulder. I screamed yes. Why did I agree... I really must be a dirty whore because that sounds hot and I want it to happen. I want it so bad.

You pulled your dick out of my pussy and your cum dripped out. You didn't waste time and immediately shoved it into my ass. It took some time to adjust but it felt good to feel you inside of me again. I grabbed my legs and pulled them up, displaying my wet pussy that was still full of cum. I was panting hard, so horny, so desperate to cum.

Your friends queued up in a line and the first one fell to his knees and began to lick your cum off me while looking at you. He then looked up to my tits and was sucking and licking and fingering me. My clit has never been so abused. By the time the last of your friends was done with me, I'd lost count of how many times I'd cum. The entire floor was covered with your friends' cum too. You'd only fucked my ass once and I liked that you'd kept your sperm plugged inside of me. I wanted to keep it there as long as possible. Your friends quickly dressed, said hurried goodbyes and left while I was still panting. I didn't even know my name at that point.

You pulled me even closer to your body, pinched my nipple hard and gripped my neck.

- Did you like my friends eating your pussy, whore? Making you cum? Touching what's mine? While I had my dick up your ass for them to see?

I was nodding and saying 'yes' like it was a prayer. I was close to tears.

You caressed my cheek and softly kissed my neck.

- Good. I liked it too. We can do it again soon if you're good.

I looked to you with my teary eyes. "Really? You're not mad?"

- No, sweetness. I'm not mad. I enjoyed showing you off and sharing your sweet pussy.

You then grabbed me by the pussy and leaned closer to my ear.

- As long as you don't forget who this pussy belongs to, we can show it and share with whoever.

- It's yours. My pussy, my ass, my tits, my mouth, my orgasms, everything is yours. I'm yours.

I wasn't even done saying that before you turned me around and were fucking my pussy on top of the cum-covered floor your friends left us.

[reesereadsalot]

omg could you do routledge!reader where jj is dating kie bc he's in love with reader but knows jb would never let it happen so reader gets all sad and there's some tension there bc jj and reader have been so super close since childhood like reader, jb, n jj were the og trio and something happens that sparks jj to confess (also unless you want it differently, could jj just be a rebound or a fling or something to kie so her and reader don't end up hating each other bc that's my queen my home girl 🤞). Pope knows full well that the two of them are in love and possibly tries to slap some sense into one or both of them

literally in love with this req (marry me pls) anyway ofc!

I involved Pope but I wanted reader to slap some sense into the boys (JJ and JB) instead of another person trying to do it because she’s apart of the og trio.

shy!reader and JJ’s first kiss . . .

warnings: drinking, smoking, being drunk, kissing/making out, fighting, blood

word count: 1.5k

The first time you saw them kiss, you thought your heart broke. JJ was sitting on your couch with Kiara next to him and they were kissing. It was dark outside, when the world was quiet. There was a mess all over the house of random cups and other trash.

The party had been your idea. At your house. Of course you didn’t tell anyone that though. You let John B handle the invites and telling everyone. You probably would’ve died before you let anyone know it was your idea and your planning.

The party had been fun until JJ got drunk enough to kiss Kiara in front of everyone. You didn’t know JJ likes Kiara. He didn’t tell you. He always tells you when he likes a girl.

The party was over and they were still making out, drunk as fuck. You couldn’t lie, you were drunk too. You wanted so badly to yell at JJ. Scream at him for not realizing that you liked him. Loved him even.

Well, no one could doubt that you did in-fact love him. But it probably wasn’t in the way you really did love him. You had been friends with JJ for forever. Ever since he became friends with JB, he became friends with you. You all did everything together. Then came Kie and Pope and now Sarah. You are all a little family. But, it started with JJ, John B and you.

You just sighed heavily and grabbed the nearest joint you could find. You grabbed another cheap red cup and filled it with some strong alcohol that you probably couldn’t read in your state. You plopped into a seat on the front porch and lit the joint. You didn’t know how long you had been outside, staring at the stars until you heard a voice.

“Damn, smoking a joint without me?” You startled at JJ’s voice and looked at him. His grin grew wider when you met his eyes and you felt heat creeping up your neck. “I can’t believe this.” He said in mock offense. He grabbed the join from your two fingers and takes a drag.

“This is mine too.” He plops into the seat, next to you.

“Sorry.” You mumble before taking a drink from your cup. The alcohol burns on its way down your throat. You look at JJ and realize why you’re out here in the first place. You gulp down the rest of your drink, coughing afterwards.

“Slow down!” JJ laughs patting you on the back to help your coughing. “What’s got you all mopey?” He teases.

“‘S nothing.” You slur looking at him, plastering on a fake smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. JJ’s smile disappears. He takes off the red hat he was wearing to run a hand through his hair. He places the hat on top of your head.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” He asks, this time with more sentiment.

“Nothing you should worry your pretty lil’ head about.” You giggle at your own words. You couldn’t even tell why you were saying things like that. You reach for the blunt again but JJ puts it above his head. “Give that to me.” You slur reaching to grab it. You almost fall over before he catches you, putting a hand on your waist. The hat falls off of your head.

“I think it’s time to call it a night.” He says with a soft smile, still trying to tease you.

“Why don’t you go back to Kiara and leave me alone.” You grumble, trying to grab the joint from his hand.

“Is that what this is about—Kie?” JJ asks you, his smile fading. Him and Kiara were just friends with benefits. Nothing serious.

“No.” You say abruptly, heat crawling up your neck and onto your cheeks once again. JJ barks out a laugh and you furrow your brows at him. “What’s funny?” You ask, voice sharper than intended.

He stares at your face searching for any signs of a joke. This has to be a joke.

“Are you jealous?” He tries to sound teasing but his voice is quiet, calm. He genuinely wants to know. You snort at his words, trying to deflect.

“Why would I be jealous?” You ridicule.

“I don’t know, why would you?” He asks, words edged with something you can’t quite make out. You stare at him unable to come up with an answer other than the truth under his piercing gaze. “Me and Kie are just a fling anyway, it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t?” You perk up at his words.

“No, it doesn’t.” He basically whispers the words.

The air between you two gets thicker with a tension you don’t have the strength to name. Your faces inch towards each other, unable to resist. JJ smells faintly of cologne mixed with the smell of weed and alcohol. Unable to take the tension any longer, he kisses you. At first, you’re surprised but then you melt at his touch.

The kiss is not as calm as you imagined it to be. It’s filled with hunger and desire that hasn’t been met for far too long. You close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the kiss. JJ’s fingers tangle in your hair pulling you closer to him than you already are. His tongue grazes your lips, begging for entry. You gasp at the sudden intrusion which allows him to fully enter your mouth. Your tongues tangle with each other. You wrap your arms around his neck and get lost in the new sensations of your feelings.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

You pull back from JJ immediately, cheeks turning pink. You take in a deep breath and look up at your brother. His face is a mix of fury and revulsion.

“My sister, JJ, really?” John B yells getting the attention from the other pogues inside. JB grabs JJ by the bicep and shoves him off of the porch. JJ charges at your brother.

“Guys, stop!” You step in front of them before they can get a hand on eachother. You face John B. “It’s fine, really.” You try to reassure him.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into getting involved with him!” He yells, you step back from him running into JJ’s chest.

“Hey man, lay off her.” He defends you, carefully pulling you behind him.

“Oh, I need to lay off her? She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into!” John B takes the chance with you out of the way to swing at JJ. You can’t really tell what’s going on with your drunkenness and the adrenaline. Both of them are just laying punches at each other in every direction.

“Stop! Stop!” You yell but it’s no use they won’t stop. You step closer trying to grab either of them. “Guys, just stop! Let’s—“

Pain erupts on your face and you fall back into the grass. You let out a cry of pain and bring a hand up to your nose. You sit up on the ground and look at your hand. There’s blood. You let out a sob.

“Are you okay?” JJ asks you cupping your face in his hands. “Dammit man, you hit her!” He yells at John B.

“I hit her?” John B argues back.

“Stop! Stop fighting!” You yell at them, anger evident on your face. Tears flowing down your cheeks. JJ looks back at you, wiping the tears with his thumb.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He says to you, concern written all over his face. “Pope, can you get a tissue or something?” He asks Pope and you look back at the house. Kiara, Pope—who went back inside the house—and Sarah saw the whole thing. Saw you get hit. Saw you fall down. You blush under their stares.

“Hey, hey, just look at me, okay?” JJ moves your head with his hands. “Don’t focus on them.” He tells you, wiping some blood from under your nose. He places a quick peck on your lips and you smile at him. The pain is less evident with JJ comforting you.

John B and JJ gran each of your hands guiding you to the seat on the front porch. Pope had grabbed the tissue and brought it back by the time you sat down. JJ wiped your nose for you, planning to hold the tissue until the bleeding stopped. You slapped his hand away, snatching the tissue and keeping it on your nose.

The boys sat in silence in front of you, too petty to apologize or say anything first.

“Are you both going to keep fighting about this?” You spoke up abruptly, tired of the silence. John B just shook his head no.

“No, sorry.” JJ mumbled.

“Okay, hug it out now.” You smiled at your own words. They both wrinkled their noses in disgust. “Do it.” You said gesturing with your free hand for them to hug. They hugged quickly, breaking free almost immediately.

“No more fights, okay?” You asked them, needing confirmation. They didn’t utter a word. “Okay?” You said sharper, louder this time.

“Yes ma’am.” They both said at the same time. You barked out a laugh at their antics.

“You’re both stupid.” You pushed their faces away from yours with your hands, the tissue forgotten on your lap.

“You love us.” John B said, laughing.

“Yeah, you love us.” JJ echoed.

“Shut up.” You grumbled, pulling them both into a hug. “Please don’t fight over me.” You begged and you felt them both nod on your shoulder.

“I still don’t want you with JJ.” John B tried to scold you but you pushed him away with a groan.

“Oh my god, actually shut up.”

tags: @mojitrvo | @kieeslove

[kaykay0315]

Na Baek-Jin x F!Reader Part 4

~sorry for the late post, my work schedule changed, so i wasn't able to post this sooner~

Synopsis: You recently transferred to Yeoil High School, you just want to get through school, get good grades and stay out of trouble. You’ve had enough of it in your past and don't want  to get involved with it any longer. But the world seems to not like the path you refuse to take, so it decides to put you in the worst place of all…sitting next to Na Baek-Jin, leader of the Union.

Word Count: 3k

A few weeks later…

The bruises from that night had long since faded, but some aches didn’t come from fists. Some lived beneath the skin, in places no one could see.

It had been quiet at Yeoil High, suspiciously so. No one had dared approach her since the alley incident got spread around. Not the ones who had ties to the Union, and not the ones who had watched from afar. The rumors still swirled, muttered in cafeteria corners and behind half-closed doors. Most were wrong. All of them were loud.

But outside those gates, things were different.

It started out small with a few awkward hellos, casual nods. Baku had been the first to treat her like she wasn’t some shadow walking through the world. Loud, brash, impossible to ignore. He called her rookie, like she was part of some invisible squad. She hadn’t agreed to anything, but he kept talking like she had.

Gotak didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. The way he always passed her a water bottle after Baku ran his mouth, or offered her his hoodie when it got cold on the rooftop of the apartments…they spoke volumes.

Si-eun was harder to read. Reserved, calculating. Sometimes she caught him watching her like she was an equation he was trying to solve. But he never pushed. Just quietly offered bandages and knowing glances that said: I see you. Even if you don’t want me to.

And Jun-tae… Jun-tae was gentle. The kind of quiet that felt like warmth, not distance. He never asked questions, just handed her small kindnesses; extra snacks, charger cords, even a playlist once, dropped into her phone when she wasn’t looking.

She hadn’t planned on getting close to anyone. She didn’t do friends. Didn’t do warmth.

But somehow, they crept in anyway.

Now, the after-school silence she used to crave felt strange without them.

The present felt quieter than the past.

Afternoon sun bled through the classroom blinds, striping the floor in gold and shadow. The air was still, heavy with the kind of exhaustion that settled in just before the final bell. Your chin rested against your palm, eyes half-lidded as the math teacher shuffled around the room, placing graded papers face-down on each desk.

You glanced sideways, not moving your head, just your eyes.

Na Baek-Jin sat next to you, as always. Back straight, jaw clenched, expression unreadable. The two of them shared a desk row, though “shared” might’ve been generous. Most days, they existed in silence, like two statues carved from different stones.

Your paper was placed down without a word. You flipped it lazily.

100 A perfect score. The red ink circled the number like a medal.

You barely looked at it before folding it back in half.

Baek-Jin’s paper landed next. He didn’t react either, just lifted the corner with two fingers. 100. Of course. She figured he was the type to get things right the first time.

The teacher adjusted his glasses, gave a weak smile. “You all have the rest of the period to review or study. I’ll be stepping out for a bit. Keep the noise down.”

The door clicked shut.

For a few seconds, no one moved. Then the class exhaled all at once, chairs scraping, whispers rising, books flipping open more out of habit than focus.

You didn’t move. Neither did Baek-Jin.

Out of the corner of her eye, you saw him tap his pencil once against his notebook. Then again. Rhythmic, methodical.

You broke the silence first, voice low. “You always get perfect scores?”

He didn’t look at you. “Do you?”

A corner of your lip tugged. Not quite a smile, but close. “I try not to.”

At that, he finally glanced over. Just a flicker of his gaze, sharp and curious. “You didn’t try very hard this time, then.”

“Must’ve slipped,” you said, turning her head to look at him fully now. “My mistake.”

Your eyes met for a second too long.

He blinked and looked away first, scribbling something into the margin of his notes like your presence was just a passing thought.

But his voice came a moment later, quieter. “Don’t let your guard down here.”

You tilted your head. “You saying that as my classmate… or as a warning?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

Before you could press him further, the low hum of whispers across the room suddenly shifted. Someone laughed near the back, that sharp kind of laugh that never meant anything good.

“Hey,” a voice said, too loud to be casual. “Did you guys hear?”

You didn’t turn around, but the noise behind you was quicksand, pulling attention. Baek-Jin’s pencil paused mid-scribble.

The voice continued, mock-theatrical. “Someone said that new girl from Class 3…yeah, her…beat the crap out of three guys behind a convenience store last week.”

More laughter. Louder now. Closer.

“She’s got some kinda gang or something. You’ve seen her hanging out with those Eunjang High kids, right? Baku, Gotak…what are they even doing near our school?”

Another chimed in. “Isn’t that where all the troublemakers end up? Unions trying to get them to join tho, right? I don't know why they’d bother with those useless idiots .”

You stayed still. Hands folded neatly on your desk. No expression. Nothing.

“Maybe she’s trying to start her own crew. You know how girls are, claws out and all that.”

Baek-Jin shifted beside you. Not much. Just a subtle lean forward, elbow now resting on his thigh, hand curled near his mouth like he was thinking hard about something that had nothing to do with math.

But you saw his eyes. They weren’t on his notebook anymore.

The whisperer behind you kept going, but the words were starting to slur into white noise. Background static.

“I mean, look at her. Always quiet, always staring like she’s planning something…”

Baek-Jin’s voice came low, like a blade being unsheathed.

“Say one more thing.”

The room stilled. Not quiet...still.

A beat passed. Then another.

No one said anything after that. Not even a cough.

The whisperer muttered something under his breath and sank back into his seat. Baek-Jin didn’t look at him. He didn’t have to.

You didn’t say thank you. Didn’t acknowledge him.

But you did glance at him, just once. Long enough to catch how still his hands were now. How calm his face was, like nothing had happened.

And yet… the air between you had shifted.

The classroom air felt thicker now, as if Baek-Jin’s quiet warning had squeezed all the breath out of the room.

Only a little.

But it was enough

You rested your chin on your fist again, eyes drifting lazily to the window. Outside, the sunlight sharpened the edges of tree branches and fluttered dust motes in the air like suspended secrets.

The whisperers dared not speak again, but their eyes flicked toward you, then toward Baek-Jin…some with a mix of calculation, some with fear.

You caught one guy’s gaze, sharp, almost desperate and let a small, unreadable smile tug at your lips. Not mocking. Not friendly. Just… something.

Baek-Jin’s hand twitched beside you, pencil tapping once more slow, deliberate.

The teacher’s footsteps echoed faintly down the hall outside, growing louder.

The clock on the wall ticked closer to the last second before the bell.

Your heartbeat slowed, steady but alert. 

The bell rang sharp and final, echoing through the emptying halls. You didn’t rush like the others. Instead, you moved slowly, gathering your things with quiet precision. The whispers from class still hung in the air, like a low hum beneath your skin.

Outside, the afternoon sun softened the edges of the world, casting long shadows on cracked pavement. The schoolyard was thinning fast, footsteps fading into the distance.

You walked down the street near the apartment buildings, head lowered, hands stuffed into your jacket pockets. You hadn’t gone far when a familiar voice broke through the quiet.

“Hey, rookie!” Baku’s loud shout echoed off the walls, pulling a reluctant smile from your lips.

Gotak followed, quieter but steady by his side. His eyes flicked over you, concern subtle but there.

“You’re late,” Baku teased, arms crossed but grinning like he was proud.

“I’m not on your schedule,” you said, trying to sound unimpressed but failing.

Baku laughed, nudging Gotak. “See? She’s got attitude.”

Gotak offered you a water bottle without a word. You took it, nodding your thanks. Then he slipped off his hoodie and draped it over your shoulders.

“Cold,” he said simply.

The gesture was small, but it warmed something inside you more than the fabric could.

You and the two boys fell into step together, the noisy city sounds surrounding you like a shield. For a moment, you forgot about the rumors, the tension back at school, even Baek-Jin.

You, Baku, and Gotak walked down the narrow side street between the convenience store and the back of the old gym, your steps kicking up little puffs of dust. The hoodie Gotak had lent you was warm, smelled faintly of detergent and asphalt.

“You always this quiet after school?” Baku asked, throwing a piece of gum in his mouth as he walked backward in front of you, hands stuffed into his hoodie.

You raised an eyebrow. “You always this loud?”

Gotak snorted.

Baku grinned. “Only when I like the company.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “That why you’re always yelling?”

“Maybe,” he said, cracking his gum. “Or maybe I’m just trying to get you to talk more. You keep showing up like some action movie loner. Thought you were gonna tell me your tragic backstory by now.”

You scoffed, amused. “What, like: ‘I fight because I have nothing left to lose’?”

“Exactly!” he said, pointing at you. “That’s the good stuff. You’ve definitely got the ‘brooding protagonist’ thing going on.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not the protagonist of anything.”

“Pfft. Please. You show up out of nowhere, beat the hell outta three dudes, and now everyone’s talking like you’re some kind of urban legend.”

“Let ‘em talk,” you muttered.

Baku gave you a side glance, more serious now. “That doesn’t bother you?”

There was a pause. You shrugged, but your voice came a little lower.

“Only when they start getting the story wrong.”

He nodded, chewing slowly. “Fair.”

Gotak walked beside you in silence, but his eyes flicked toward you once. Watching. Measuring.

Baku stuffed his hands in his pockets again. “You really from Seoul Arts High?”

You blinked, a little surprised. “Who told you that?”

“I’ve got ears,” he said casually. “Heard it was rough over there.”

You didn’t answer right away. The wind picked up a little, and Gotak adjusted the hoodie on your shoulders without a word.

“Not rough,” you said eventually. “Just… wrong. For me.”

Baku didn’t press. He just walked a little slower now, letting the silence breathe between his words.

Then he grinned again. “Well, whatever. Wrong place or not, you got hands. That part’s undeniable.”

You side-eyed him. “You trying to recruit me or something?”

He threw his arms up in mock innocence. “Me? Nooo. I’m not the recruiting type. I’m more of the annoying older brother you never wanted.”

“Yeah,” you said dryly. “You nailed that part.”

Gotak’s shoulders shook slightly from a quiet laugh.

Then Baku added, a little softer, “But seriously… you ever need backup, you let us know. Eunjang doesn’t do lone wolves. Not anymore.”

That made you pause.

You didn’t respond, but you didn’t walk away either…

But

Just a few steps behind, a figure watched from the shadows. A Union member, face obscured beneath a hood, eyes sharp and calculating. The man pulled out a phone, fingers swift as he tapped a message.

[👁] Spotted her with the Eunjang dogs again. Baku and the tall one. Looked friendly.

The message buzzed quietly in Baek-Jin’s hand.

He read the words twice before setting his jaw.

“She’s getting too close,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes darkened as he stared at the screen, mind already turning over the possibilities of protection, threat, alliance.

He locked his phone without replying. He didn’t need confirmation. He already knew who sent it.

He leaned back in his chair. The flickering fluorescent lights of the Union club room overhead buzzed in sync with the one in his chest.

It was too soon for her to get involved. Too soon to be showing her face outside of school like that, especially with them.

With him.

Baku.

The name alone pressed something hot and bitter against the back of Baek-Jin’s throat.

They’d known each other before all this…before the turf wars, the fractured loyalties, the masks they wore now. Baku had been the first to teach him how to throw a punch. Back then, Baek-Jin was just a quiet, scrawny kid who kept his head down and his fists clenched in his pockets.

And Baku… Baku had been wildfire. Loud. Brash. Fearless. The kind of kid who stepped between fists like it was a game, who laughed when his lip bled.

They used to be on the same side.

But power changes people.

And Baku had made it clear: he wouldn’t kneel.

Baek-Jin respected it. Hated it. Resented it.

And now she—you—were showing up beside him. Laughing. Talking. Looking comfortable, like you belonged there.

Like Baku had already claimed a piece of you.

He didn’t like it.

Didn’t like the idea of you getting dragged into that world, into Baku’s world.

He stood up, chair legs scraping the tile, and moved toward the window. Below, the school grounds stretched quiet under the fading light. Somewhere out there, you were walking with him. With them.

His reflection stared back from the glass calm, composed, forgettable to anyone who didn’t know better.

But behind his eyes, war drums were beginning to beat.

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual end-of-week chaos of metal trays clattering, sneakers squeaking on tile, voices riding high on the promise of a weekend. You slid into your usual corner seat, headphones loosely around your neck, lunch untouched in front of you.

You weren’t hungry.

Too many eyes on you lately. Too many whispers that didn’t bother lowering their volume anymore.

The chair across from you scraped back. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was, he always seems to bother you during lunch a lot.

You didn’t answer. Just flicked your gaze up lazily, unimpressed.

“You’ve got a type, don’t you?”

Geum Seong-Jae’s voice was honey-sweet and razor-sharp, sliding across the table like a knife.

Your jaw tightened, but you said nothing.

He smiled. That crooked, too-white grin that never quite reached his eyes.

“Tall. Quiet. Kinda punchable.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Spotted you with Gotak again. You two close now?”

“Funny, I didn’t think he could walk that fast these days.” He tapped a finger against the table rhythmically. “After what happened last year… well. Guess he heals slow.”

You felt the shift in your spine before your brain caught up, fight or flight tightening behind your ribs.

“What do you want, Seong-Jae.” Flat. Cold. Not a question.

He leaned back, mock-offended. “Me? Nothing. Just checking in. You’ve got a reputation, y’know. Trouble likes to stick together.” He tilted his head. “Maybe that’s why Baku keeps you around.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Or maybe he just doesn’t like snakes.”

That grin sharpened.

“Careful,” he said softly, the edge no longer hidden. “You hang out with Eunjang too long, you start to rot like they do.”

You stood, tray in hand, appetite officially gone.

But before you turned away, you met his eyes head-on.

“Funny,” you said. “I was about to say the same thing about Union.”

You didn’t look back as you walked off.

But you felt his stare burn between your shoulder blades the whole way out.

The wind hit sharp when you pushed open the rooftop door. It tugged at the edge of your jacket and hissed through the rails like it knew something you didn’t.

You shut the door behind you and leaned against the cool concrete, letting the silence press in.

Up here, the school noise faded. The city stretched out in every direction, buildings stacked like old memories, distant sirens, the hum of traffic below. But it was quiet enough to think. Or maybe… too quiet.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

[🟢 Gotak] You didn’t think. Just answered.

“Yo.” His voice was steady, low. Familiar.

A pause. Then, “Baku said you didn’t eat lunch.”

You exhaled, the tension you hadn’t even realized you were holding slowly easing out.

“You always call at the weirdest times.”

You let out a soft, amused breath. “Are you two tracking me now?”

“Nah,” Gotak said. “Just watching out.”

The words settled warm somewhere beneath your ribs.

You leaned against the railing, gaze flicking toward the clouds. “Geum Seong-Jae sat across from me today.”

You hesitated. “Stuff about you. About your leg.”

The other end of the line went quiet. Then:

“…What did he say?”

Another silence. This one heavier.

“I know you didn’t.” His voice was calm, but there was steel under it. “He’s just trying to get in your head.”

You kicked a loose pebble off the ledge and watched it disappear into the air.

“I didn’t ask, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Well,” you muttered, “he’s got a hell of a way of doing it.”

A gust of wind blew your hair into your face. You didn’t move to fix it.

“You okay?” Gotak asked, quieter now.

You swallowed. “I don’t know. I don’t like sitting still.”

That got you. You closed your eyes, letting the words settle.

“Then don’t.”

You blinked.

“Move how you need to. Just don’t move alone.”

You didn’t say thank you. He wouldn’t want that anyway.

“Only when I’m talking to someone who forgets she’s not bulletproof.”

Instead, you smirked a little, barely audible through your voice.

“You always this dramatic over the phone?”

There was a long pause, but it wasn’t empty.

“Who says I forgot?”

Your grin faded slightly.

“I just don’t want to feel like I’m hiding anymore.”

“Then don’t,” he said. “We’ve got your back.”

A beat.

You let the words wrap around you like armor. Quiet. Strong.

Then, softer:

“Thanks, Gotak.”

“Anytime, rookie.”