#need to get it cut again as it's starting to get to the annoying stage of hair length again

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCRAZY WOMAN ON TOUR * CHRIS STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　where during day 2 of the Sturniolo Triplets Surprise Party Tour, an insane woman tries to get the boys' attention in a very rude way, interrupting Chris and annoying Y/N.

FEATURING　Chris Sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　second-hand embarrassment (lol), purposefully change of the woman's name.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: For the ones who don't know what this is about, watch this.

A/N³: I don't know why, but watching the scene of the woman on yesterday's show reminded me of this, and I felt inspired to write this 😭.

Y/N's eyes gleamed with pride and admiration as she watched her boyfriend and his brothers, the golden stage lights casting a beautiful glow over the two vibrant orange couches where the triplets sat.

Matt and Nick lounged comfortably on the left one, their elbows draped lazily over the armrests, while Chris occupied the right couch alone, his right leg crossed over his left.

"Because we're triplets, and we're so close, like, doing all this-" Chris began, his fingers grazing the tattoo on his ankle. But before he could continue, an abrupt, high-pitched voice from the balcony cut the moment like a knife.

"MY NAME IS LANY!"

Chris blinked, his lips parting slightly as he turned his head toward the disruption.

"... Um, hi, Lany." With an exasperated look, he simply muttered before refocusing on his brothers, determined to continue speaking.

But before another syllable could leave his mouth, the same voice shrieked once more.

"MY NAME IS LANY!"

Nick, who had been shifting slightly in his seat, turned sharply toward the source of the noise, lifting his microphone to his mouth with such a strength that Matt swore it would hit his front teeth.

"Can you stop talking?"

For a few seconds, an uneasy silence stretched across the theater before Chris resumed his talking.

"But basically, what I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, was that our tour is so unique and so genuine-"

"MY NAME IS LANY!"

Chris’s jaw visibly clenched, his eyes momentarily shutting in frustration as the same disruptive voice rang out once more.

And that was it.

That was the moment Y/N’s patience finally snapped.

She had been trying - truly trying - to maintain her composure, to let security handle it, to ignore the way this woman was actively trying to end the boys' moment. But the audacity of continuously cutting Chris off, interrupting his focus, and disturbing the flow of their conversation made her skin crawl.

Y/N despised seeing him struggle to stay composed, knowing how much this tour and his surprise for this night meant to him - being right by his side when he got his tattoos. Her fingers curled into her palms, sharp nails hurting her soft skin, and with a steady exhale, she pushed herself up from her seat.

Her movements were smooth but purposeful, pure authority in the way she started walking toward the stairs leading to the balcony. She wasn’t moving impulsively - no, she knew exactly what she was going to do.

Chris, noticing her stand, flicked his gaze toward her briefly, his lips pressing together.

But he didn’t stop her. He knew better.

As she walked, fans sitting by the edge of the rows around the small runway turned their heads, their eyes widening in excitement. Some exchanged whispers, giddy over seeing her so close, while others simply watched in admiration.

They adored her just as much as the boys.

As Y/N finally reached the first row of the balcony, her voice softened, a big contrast to the tension in those around the crazy lady.

"Excuse me." She murmured, offering polite smiles to the fans as she carefully navigated her way past them. "So sorry, just need to get through. Thank you."

Finally, she reached her target.

Lany, seemingly preparing to scream once again, inhaled deeply, but before she could release another obnoxious shriek, Y/N stepped between her and the railing, positioning herself directly in her line of sight.

Her presence alone was commanding, her expression unreadable yet firm. Lowering her voice, she leaned in slightly.

"You need to stop." She said, voice calm but firm. "If you keep this up, you're going to have to leave."

The woman scoffed, folding her arms as she tilted her head.

"Oh, and who exactly are you?"

Y/N's lips curved just slightly, but there was no humor in her eyes.

"I’m the person telling you to stop." She replied, her voice unwavering.

Lany opened her mouth again, tilting her body so her eyes could meet the stage, her breath hitching as she prepared to yell. Y/N, already anticipating it, exhaled sharply and rolled her eyes before making her next move.

In one swift motion, she draped her arm around the woman’s shoulders - not aggressively - but with enough pressure to assume control.

Immediately, several fans close by stood up, concern flashing across their faces, fearing that the woman would hurt Y/N. But Y/N was quick to turn her head slightly and flash them a soft, reassuring smile.

"I’m okay." She murmured, her voice smooth as silk.

Despite the subtle struggle, Lany quickly realized she was outmatched. With little choice, the woman allowed herself to be led toward the stairs.

At the top of it, Paul, the boys' head security guard, and Y/N's favored, was already waiting. His expression flickered with concern as Y/N approached, his gaze scanning her for any sign of distress.

"Please escort her out. She’s done here." Y/N instructed, her tone neutral but firm.

Paul gave a curt nod, his grip solid as he took the woman from Y/N's hold, ignoring the way she tried to escape his hands.

"Understood."

Y/N took a deep breath, her shoulders rolling back as she released the last bit of tension from her muscles. Her gaze instinctively dropped down to the stage, where Matt was talking now. Her eyes were quick to meet Chris's figure, his brows slightly furrowed as he processed everything that had just happened.

Then, as if sensing her eyes on him, Chris glanced up. And when their gazes locked, she sent him a small, knowing smile - one only meant for him.

Chris exhaled, his posture finally easing, his fingers once again tracing the ink on his ankle as he prepared to finally watch the video carrying his surprise.

© vanteguccir

[bestboiraditz]

I was watching some old clips of Raditz and I realized something interesting about this characterization. Yes, Raditz is immediately interesting because he's Goku's older brother, but he's made even MORE interesting in my opinion thanks to the brief characterization he's allowed to have.

Take his first lines to Goku:

He doesn't immediately berate him for his failure to purge the planet, he takes a moment to muse on how much Goku has grown and how he looks just like their father Bardock. Keep in mind, Bardock wasn't even a spark in Toriyama's mind, so for him to have Raditz say this when he's supposed to be a throwaway villain shows an unusual level of fondness for family, especially considering what we later learn about Saiyans

Raditz, upon realizing Goku doesn't remember him, isn't just annoyed that Goku forgot his mission, but seems distraught that his little brother doesn't remember him.

It's a small detail, but again, cements that Raditz shows an unusual level of attachment to family bonds, especially for a Sayain.

And then (and this is something important to keep in mind) he declares that he will find a way to recover his little brother's memories because Goku is NEEDED.

His priority isn't to get the planet purged or punish Goku for failing, it's to regain the only biological bond he has left, however little of it there may be.

I find it interesting Toriyama wrote this piece of dialogue. It just seems odd he would write such layered dialogue to characterize a villain he always intended to kill off ASAP. I guess it was to play into the whole "subverting the brother trope" but still, it doesn't make the characterization any less interesting

When Raditz tells Goku how their planet was destroyed and how everyone died, he AGAIN emphasizes that this means their parents died too.

Again, Raditz really seems to put value on his family. Note he says PARENTS not just father. Even Vegeta, for as long as we've gotten to know him, never talks about his father King Vegeta that much (if at all? He's thought about him, but not really talked about him) I find Goku's reaction interesting too, as if deep inside, despite not remembering Bardock and Gine, his heart still feels the pain of losing them. (Could it be possible Raditz noticed his reaction and took that as a sign that Goku felt the bond too, hence his following actions?)

Like @masakoxtra said, Bardock's line seems to be unusually empathetic for Saiyans. (He talks about it at 3:30)

Even Raditz, despite living his whole life under Frieza's boot and submitting to the bullying and callousness of Vegeta and Nappa and hardening his heart because of it, hasn't completely lost his sense of empathy, it's part of his nature albeit incredibly suppressed.

Raditz then has an unusually distressed response when he realizes Goku doesn't have a tail.

He doesn't mock him for losing it or immediately gets disgusted by his weakness, he is outright horrified and then gets mad at Goku for letting others just remove his tail (From Raditz's perspective, It would be like if Goku just let his arm get cut off to fit in with a race of one-armed aliens).

For Raditz, he views it as a form of betrayal, not just of his race, but the idea that his own brother would rather pass as a lowly earthling than embrace his own heritage (family being something Raditz clearly values) really gets to Raditz on an emotional level.

Now that I think about it, Raditz kinda goes through 4 out of 5 of the stages of grief for the brief time he's alive.

His first reaction is denial that Goku had forgot him and accepted life on earth, then anger that he would rather live as an earthling than be with his Saiyan kin, and then he starts the bargaining phase, trying to entice Goku with the idea of fighting saying that he's a Saiyan and it's in his blood.

When that bargaining doesn't work, he resorts to a different form of bargaining.

Blackmail.

Raditz steals Gohan trying to force Goku to join him. He tells Goku to kill 100 humans by tomorrow as proof of his submission, but pay attention to the wording:

Raditz says "when you decide to join us, and you WILL decide to" that's how much confidence he has in Goku's devotion towards his son EVEN THOUGH Goku's a Saiyan.

Raditz doesn't have a shadow of a doubt that Goku will do everything in his power to protect his son, even if he is a weak crybaby. Saiyans don't typically care much for their kin as shown in several flashback material later on (in fact it's later explained that they'll completely disown and abandon babies that are too weak to be considered useful. They have a very Spartan-esque society).

But Raditz knows he can use Gohan as leverage because Raditz actually understands emotional connections between family members, something he would've likely valued all the more being considered weak himself.

A lot of times people are able to use emotional manipulation because they either understand or were a victim of similar manipulation.

He then warns Goku that he might as well comply because everyone is going to die anyway, the earth being scheduled for purging. He hammers home the point that Goku's defiance is pointless and he really doesn't have a choice anyway so he may as well submit.

But what Raditz is doing here is almost an act of compassion (for a Saiyan). The way he sees it, Goku will die if he doesn't comply, so joining them is the only way he'll be able to survive. If he didn't care about Goku's life, why warn him? Why give him a chance to prove himself?

In fact, why would Raditz need Goku to prove himself when he was willing to take him without that before?

This is just an idea, but could it be...because of his scouter?

Remember, his scouter was open the entire time so Vegeta and Nappa are listening in. If Vegeta was listening it, after hearing about Goku's weak power level and his defiance and kind-nature, Raditz probably knew Vegeta might just dispose of Goku when they returned, considering him a disgrace to the Saiyan race. So Raditz has to have Goku prove himself by killing a bunch of humans to show Vegeta he's worth keeping alive.

It's horrific in Goku's eyes, but to Raditz, the lives of a few humans is inconsequential compared to his brother. This again is why Raditz says Goku has no choice, Vegeta won't give them a choice.

This also might be desperation on Raditz's part. If we are to consider the opening of Dragonball Z: Kakarot canon, Vegeta and Nappa mock him, Nappa going as far as to declare it's why he's called "Raditz the Runt", apparently a knickname he's saddled with in the Frieza force.

Raditz, instead of responding angrily or protesting as most Saiyans would, bows his head and pathetically apologizes, promising things will be different next time, showing that not only is this bullying common, but Raditz has just accepted it at this point. The way Raditz treats Goku when meeting him may stem from this treatment, he's trying to sway his brother the only way he's seen, through brute force and intimidation.

But Vegeta, getting sick of Raditz's weakness, promises to kill him if he screws up again, and if Vegeta promises death, you know it's coming. Raditz, panicking as his self-preservation instincts kick in, mentions his brother, saying he can help make things easier, but really Raditz just doesn't want Vegeta to kill him. Even then, Vegeta scoffs "The fact that he's YOUR brother doesn't exactly fill me with confidence" It's possible that Raditz did actually forget his brother and it was only in his panic, scrambling mentally for any way to save his life, that in that moment of desperation he at last remembered Kakarot.

Again, if we are to consider this conversation canon, Raditz needs Goku to survive to better the odds of his own survival, it's only after he's in a pod heading to Earth that he has time to think about Kakarot and wonder why he hasn't tried contacting them after so long.

But back to the OG manga, After Raditz gives Goku his ultimatum, he says this:

Again, he could've stopped at "I hope you don't disappoint me" but to follow it up by emphasizing it's for both his and Gohan's sake is noteworthy.

And even though Raditz clearly doesn't have much of a connection with Gohan as he does with Goku, I find this bit particularly interesting:

He barks at Gohan to stop crying and states that he possesses the proud blood of Saiyans. Yes, he is annoyed by Gohan's crying, but he also feels that he's better than that since he is still a Saiyan and wants him to be strong.

I like to imagine that Raditz is repeating something Bardock told him when he cried as a child, it feels like a very Bardock thing to say.

I particularly like the english dub of this scene, Justin Cook gives such an interesting and tender delivery of the line.

Also I really like how Raditz pauses to look at Gohan before walking away in the anime, I like to interpret it as Raditz seeing a bit of himself as a child in Gohan, but quickly burying those feelings.

There's a little fancomic I found that really drives that idea home.

When Goku and Piccolo show up, before they even fight, Raditz says this:

Again, why warn Goku? This feels more like Raditz is still in the bargaining mindset, he's trying to get his brother to give up and now must resort to brutally beating him to get his point through.

And then followed by this.

Remember, his scouter is open, so it's entirely possible he's acting ruthless and declaring they'll die so he won't look soft to Vegeta. I mean, he'd kill Piccolo without a thought, yeah, but Goku...? It may still be a bluff.

Plus, if he was serious about killing them, why stand around and let them plot instead of finishing them off?

The tail scene is where we see Raditz's cowardly nature on full display. But I think this moment really enhances his character because most Saiyans probably wouldn't beg for their lives, at least not to the degree Raditz is doing, they're too proud a race.

Raditz starts rambling about how he'd never actually kill his brother and his death threats were just bluffs.

Yes, we know it's a ploy to get free, but could there be an iota of truth in there? The fact he could've cut off his tail but was waiting for Piccolo to fire off his second Makenkosopo shows that Raditz is a quick thinker and very calculating.

Plus he probably didn't want to have to lose his tail unless he absolutely HAD to.

Goku was NOT stupid for letting go.

After Goku releases him, Raditz mocks his softness stating that he, a Saiyan-warrior wouldn't hesitate to kill their own brother, only to confusedly ask if Goku wants "a demonstration".

Like, if he wouldn't hesitate to kill his brother, why is he hesitating to kill his brother?

He's not killing him, he's torturing him, he could easily end it.

Remember that Double Sunday he shot off with ease earlier?

And of course after Raditz and Goku get turned into donuts, Raditz says one of the saddest lines in retrospect:

Like, he is relying on Vegeta and Nappa to save him, believing that they'll value him as a Saiyan and bring him back because HE HAS NO ONE ELSE TO RELY ON.

Right before he dies, he's in a sort of stage 4 depression where he can't believe this is how his life is going to end, dying alone and disgraced on some backwater planet at the hands of his own brother, their family line coming to a miserable end. He's never allowed to come to stage 5: acceptance (which is often where the change in a person's perspective/character tends to happen) because he dies and is forgotten.

Another thing that makes me sad Raditz didn't survive is cuz he's the perfect medium between Goku and Vegeta.

Goku rejects his saiyan heritage while Vegeta clings to it, but Raditz feels like he could easily straddle both worlds. He'd cling to his saiyan heritage out of love and respect for his parents (He'd still call Goku Kakarot, not because "it's a Saiyan name" like Vegeta, but because it's the name Bardock and Gine gave, his reason a much more personal one).

However, Raditz would have plenty of things NOT to like about Saiyan society, especially with how he and his father were treated as low-class warriors.

Being on earth, surrounded by kind people who don't belittle him and show basic kindness and respect would quickly endear Raditz to earth (remember, Bardock's kin are unusually empathetic for Saiyans).

Plus, being around Goku, who'd no doubt encourage and be proud of Raditz whilst training, would do a lot to boost Raditz's confidence (Goku looking like Bardock a way to ease his yearning to prove himself to his father) and further make him enjoy earth.

I like to imagine that, while Goku always wears a training gi from earth and Vegeta always wears some semblance of saiyan armor, Raditz would probably have a saiyan breastplate resembling Bardock's (as a kind of tribute to his dad) and go with loose pants like Goku which is good for training, visually symbolizing his willingness to find the balance between two worlds.

If Raditz had survived in the canon, this could've played even further into Vegeta's sense of isolation post-Cell arc. During his whole Majin Vegeta vs Goku fight speech, he could've said something like "And imagine the frustration I felt, when the only other pure-blood of my race left, your brother, that low-level trash who'd trembled for years under my elite warrior might, not only obtained the power of a super saiyan, but deemed me, ME the prince of all Saiyans UNWORTHY of his time! UNWORTHY FOR HIM TO FIGHT!"

Oh, and...

Must run in the family.

[geminimoonxs]

GOOD GIRLS GO TO HEAVEN. BAD GIRLS GO BACKSTAGE.

an au where art and patrick are bonded by music and an unfortunate habit of falling for the exact same type of girl.

💌 note: hi angels! hope you like this. it's not proofread and english is not my first language so i apologize in advance if writing sucks. not sure if i'll write pt.2 but i do have more ideias for this plot...... cw: +18. mdni. threesome. praise/degradation. drunk sex. unprotected sex. petnames. cumplay (if you squint). idk. shit gets nasty.

art was the kind of kid who wouldn't stay still. he was well-behaved, sure, but he had that kind of curiosity that turned into restlessness. he'd throw himself into every extracurricular thing he could get his hands on. by twelve, he could already hold his own on both drums and guitar.

his grandmother rarely said no when those blue eyes lit up asking for something. she put up with the noise, let him practice, let his friends come over to play and sat on the couch when their little band wanted to “perform” for her. even back then, patrick was already the frontman, the one whose energy moved everything and held the act together.

so yeah, it started as a joke. now the band wasn’t exactly serious either. it was just a hobby, a distraction named velvet. 

they'd play gigs in pubs and at a few events around town. nothing big. mostly indie-rock covers: stuff from the killers, the strokes, and a lot of arctic monkeys. it made them some cash, but it was more about the thrill of being on stage and the joy of sharing something that kept them close. it was also for the girls, especially if you’d ask patrick.

when you met him on campus for the first time, he was hanging a poster for their upcoming show.

“hey,” he said, pointing at the poster with one hand when you came closer to check it out. “you should come this friday. the guys play some really good music. i’m the vocalist, but my opinion still counts, right?” he grinned.

that was enough to convince you. well, the fact that he was tall and had strong arms didn’t hurt either. plus, it wasn’t like you had much to do on friday anyway. so naturally, you picked a mini skirt, your favorite pair of boots, and a friend to drag along.

the place had a decent crowd, but it wasn’t packed. the two of you ended up getting a good spot, front and center, right where patrick could set his eyes on you again. 

his vocals were cutting through the room — low and raspy, keeping up with the tune of “the adults are talking”. he was charismatic like a real star, making eyes at the crowd, taking up space on stage, and pulling the other guys into his orbit.

“you forgot to mention they were all hot,” your friend julia said, laughing into your ear.

“i only knew patrick before tonight.”

but she was right. they were all pretty cute. the drummer sat a little hidden off to the left, but you could still make out his angelic features under the red lights. 

he was looking at you. probably amused by your white crop top that read ”say no to drugs and yes to drummers”.

you weren’t sure if the set was done or if they were just taking a break, but the band stepped off stage for a bit. not long after, you spotted patrick at the bar with his friends, nodding for you to come over.

“nice shirt,” patrick said with a grin. “since you’re clearly into drummers, this is art.”

the guy behind him smiled, just a little, like he was as surprised by the intro as you were. 

“it’s just a shirt. you don’t need to get jealous,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at the brunette. “but your friend did kill it on stage.”

“band rule: we don’t get jealous over groupies.” he winked, watching you a little too closely, like he wanted to see if you’d flinch.

god, he was annoying. the kind of guy who flirted by stressing you out. and he knew he looked damn good doing it.

you shot him a look. “what if i’m just here for the music?”

“then both art and i end the night crying,” he joked, and wandered off to go hassle someone else.

art was still standing there, awkward but not moving away. there was a heat crawling up the back of his neck, stupid and fast. his fingers twitched at his side like they were searching for something to hold onto: a drink, a cigarette, anything.

“you were really good up there,” you said, quieter this time.

“uh, thanks. i saw you during the set. kind of hard to miss.”

you tilted your head. “because of the shirt?”

he hesitated, then looked right at you this time. “no. not just that.”

behind you, julia’s laugh rang out sharp and warm, unmistakably hers. you turned and saw her leaning into the bassist, the two of them locked in some kind of back-and-forth that looked suspiciously like flirting.

long story short? by the time the pub started clearing out, they invited you both to tag along to a friend’s place. no one questioned it. it just sort of happened, like gravity pulling the night forward.

the weed came out somewhere between opening beers and stealing the couch cushions. patrick lit up with one hand and passed it around like he owned the air.

everyone was talking over each other, laughing while recalling band stories or demanding for more alcohol to be poured. still, your attention was focused. 

pat was sitting on the floor, across from you and art to your right. they exchanged subtle looks like they could communicate in silence but you had decoded the tension by now. 

both clearly wanted you, but it didn’t feel like they were competing… just waiting. 

“so, how often does this happen?” you asked. 

“what exactly?” art asked, voice too innocent to be real.

“you two going after the same girl.”

“depends,” the brunette drawled smoothly, voice roughened just enough, “are you asking because you want us to fight over you or you want to know if we share?”

“oh, i wouldn’t want you guys to fight. i’m not a homewrecker.” you laughed, secretly still studying their faces. “just want to know if i should be flattered or if you do have a record of falling for the same type of women.” 

art took a sip from his beer, then stared at the bottle like he knew patrick was going to say something embarrassing. 

“there was this one girl, tashi. my ex. art ran into her bed to make her feel better when we broke up. but i forgave him.”

well, there it was. a reason for art’s ears and cheeks to get even redder. he tried to explain himself but patrick didn’t even listen, just kept going.

“and there was alice, in highschool. but she was the one who asked to kiss both of us. said it was her birthday gift, so naturally we couldn’t say no.” 

“well, so you do share.”

“upon request, yes... i also help arthur out when he’s too shy to make a move, which happens often” 

“real charitable, patrick… why don’t you shut the fuck up?” art muttered, but it didn’t have much bite. 

you sipped your drink, watching them bounce off each other like this was just how it always was. it was kind of cute, honestly. the way they talked over each other, the way art tried to hide how much he actually cared what came out of patrick’s mouth. something about it clicked in a way you weren’t expecting.

“so,” you said, grinning, “how long have you two been dating?”

the blonde one choked on his beer. the other one snorted. two complete opposites, fire and ice. 

“we’re not —” art started, cheeks going red again.

“yeah, he hasn’t had the balls to make a move on me yet.” pat joked, reaching his hand to playfully mess with art’s hair. “he thinks i’m out of his league.” 

something flickered in the space between their laughs. something in the way art didn’t quite look at him, and the way patrick didn’t stop grinning, like the edge of the truth was brushing up against both of them.

you didn’t know it, but band nights did get wild sometimes: late sets, green rooms with no real locks, adrenaline running high. nights where patrick would be deep into some random girl moaning on an old couch and art would be just steps away, pressed against her even more random friend in the shadows, trying not to pay attention. doing his best not to stare at the way patrick’s hips moved and how his hands wrapped perfectly around soft curves. trying not to get fixated on the sounds he made, rough and breathless. 

he never talked about those nights. not really. but he remembered them too clearly.

julia called your name from across the room. her voice cut through the haze, laced with whatever new discovery she’d made.

“come here. the guys made pizza!”

you excused yourself with a smile and headed her way, weaving past the tangle of bodies and bottles. patrick watched you go, then turned to art with a very familiar expression, a grin that always meant trouble.

“you gonna shoot your shot or just sit there looking like a kicked puppy?”

art blinked. “what?”

“don’t act confused. you’ve been staring at her like she’s the second coming of christ all night.”

“fuck off.”

“no, seriously. it’s cute.” patrick leaned in a little, voice dropping low, amused. “you’re in love already, huh?”

art shook his head quickly, but the tips of his ears betrayed him, flushed deep red. “she’s clearly more into you,” he mumbled. “you’re the one making her laugh.”

“because i’m funny,” patrick said, deadpan. “that’s not the same as her wanting my dick.”

“it usually is.” 

“god, you’re hopeless.” 

you came back a few moments later, hands empty. “they’ve managed to make premade pizza go wrong. it’s cold, ugly and disgusting.”

“hideous,” patrick agreed immediately. “but not as disgusting as you ditching me.”

“i was gone for two minutes.”

“longest two minutes of my life.”

you rolled your eyes, but still let him pull you into his lap when you went to sit back down. and that’s when he took another hit from the blunt, held it, then leaned forward, tapping his fingers gently against your jaw until you turned toward him. no warning, no question. he brought his mouth close and exhaled the smoke straight past your lips. 

the kiss you shared wasn’t rushed or desperate. it was very intentional, with one of patrick’s hands holding on to your waist like he’d never be done exploring your mouth. 

art didn’t hang around for long. he’d moved to the other side of the room, engaged in shallow conversations and looked away fast when you glanced his way. he was busy trying not to wonder what your mouth would taste like if he had been the one to offer the smoke.

“you want him too, don’t you?” pat asked in a low voice as he ran his nose down your neck softly, just to bite into it. his voice didn’t carry any judgment or jealousy, just pure unfiltered curiosity. 

“he’s cute.”

“oh, i know.” he admitted with a small laugh. “if i get you what you want, will you be able to take it? or are you just being greedy?”

he was toying with your mind, letting the possibility sit there within reach. he was clearly in charge of your body too, hand moving to your thigh, slightly parting your legs so the miniskirt would look even more obscene. no one else was paying attention to the two of you.

just art. his blue eyes wandering shamelessly from your black lace panties peeking out, to patrick’s smirk.

“i’ve never done this before.” you said, honestly. 

“we’ll go easy on you,” patrick said, his fingers lazy where they traced a slow line up your thigh. “he’s a good boy and i don’t bite too hard either.”

he stood then, giving your hand a small tug and guiding you down the hallway. the bedroom he pushed you into was messy, something you could tell even with the lights off. pat lit a single lamp on the nightstand, the low light casting warm reflections over your skin as he got you to lie down on the mattress.

you didn’t have much time to think. his hands were on your hips again, one knee between your legs, mouth already on yours, moving slow and confident, coaxing. he kissed like someone who knew how to get what he wanted, but didn’t mind taking his time getting there.

“you’re too beautiful,” he murmured against your skin. “let me see you.”

the crop top was gone quickly, revealing your breasts sitting perfectly in a black bra. his mouth watered at the sight, but he didn’t rush – just leaned down to kiss your lips again, deliciously slow. one of his hands traveled up your skirt, fingers lightly tracing where your panties had gone damp.

your head tipped back on instinct, eyes closing as you felt his digits push the fabric to the side and finally touch you how you needed it with his thumb pressuring small circles on your clit.  

you were so lost in the moment that you didn’t even notice patrick clumsily balancing his phone with the wrong hand, thumb fumbling the screen as he typed. the text to art was simple: 

| “sos. need a condom.” 

he knew it would work. would lure him in. and it did. art did anything for him.

less than five minutes later there was a knock on the door. 

you startled at first: legs snapping closed, eyes locking on patrick’s in quiet panic.

“it’s just art,” he said calmly, placing a sweet kiss to your jaw. “gonna let him in, ok? we’re going to take good care of you.” 

you nodded, head already consumed by the fantasy of being the center of their attention. dripping at the thought. 

he opened the door just a crack. art stood there holding the foil square like it burned his hand.

“thanks,” patrick said. and then he opened the door wider.

“pat — ” art barely got the word out before being interrupted.

“come on, man. don’t be shy.” the brunette said with a smile. “we both want you here. doubles the fun.”

art stumbled into the room before he could stop himself, face lit up crimson. he looked everywhere except you, until his eyes inevitably dropped and there you were, lying across the bed, hair splayed, skirt rumpled up, those soaked black panties still on display.

patrick stepped close behind him, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “don’t make her  beg, hm? show her how much you want her.”

their dynamic was amusing to watch. it felt like art obeyed out of habit, knowing it was safe to walk into whatever patrick picked for him. 

he crawled up to your body, eyes fixated on your lips. “can i?” he asked, waiting for your confirmation before leaning in. 

art kissed you like he’d been holding back for hours. flammable, trembling, hands shaky as they palmed your waist and chest.

you couldn't hold back a moan as you felt patrick get back in the bed, his face finding your neck, hand traveling to your back and unclasping the bra with practice. it soon joined your top on the floor. 

“god, you’re gorgeous.” art breathed. there was nothing casual about his tone, he sounded devoted. 

he touched you carefully, peppering kisses all over before latching to your nipple and staying there. the feeling of his lips and the sinful way patrick looked down to watch him sent something straight to your core. 

one of your hands fell on art’s curls, tugging gently, while the other palmed pat’s bulge through his jeans. the brunette wasted no time stripping your skirt and settling between your legs.

he didn’t take your panties off, not yet. his mouth met the fabric first, tongue pressing in, soaking it even more, making it cling tight to your skin.

“patrick, please…” you moaned, feeling his hands pressing harshly on your tights, keeping you open. 

“so spoiled. bet you’re loving all of this.” he hissed, finally dragging the lace down your legs. “dying be our little plaything, aren’t you?”

you didn’t reply, cause art’s lips met yours again. you kept moaning into his mouth, letting him ground you while pat’s tongue worked. it felt slick and warm, alternating from bullying your clit to teasing your entrance. 

patrick lapped at your folds like a starving man and when his fingers got in the mix it didn’t take long before you were arching your back in response. 

“you wanna come for him, princess?” art asked, surprising you with confidence that you had no idea where it came from. 

he never felt this worked up before. he wanted to reach for patrick’s hair and keep him in place, so your moans would keep flooding the room. he wanted to taste you off of patrick’s lips until both of them gasped for air.

but he wouldn’t dare be the one to start it. so he just watched as your legs trembled, as you clenched around pat’s fingers. 

patrick looked up with a lust filled gaze, chin glistening as he offered art his digits, coated in you. “there you go.” he murmured in satisfaction as art’s lips parted without hesitation, soft and eager around his fingers.

it wasn’t as good as getting the kiss art was fantasizing about, but you tasted so sweet that it still made his head spin. 

“now, it’s not fair that we have her sitting here so pretty and we’re both still fully clothed is it?” pat asked, clearly having fun to be the one commanding the whole thing, giving it rhythm. “give her something to look at.” 

he came closer and slid art’s red flannel off his back, letting the blonde get rid of the worn out grey t-shirt that was underneath it too. 

you were positively surprised by the view. art had a slim frame, but his arms and abs were defined, like sculpted marble. his pale skin was painted in a few brown spots that spread along his shoulders and back, like a constellation. 

he was still fidgeting his fingers, looking at patrick for guidance before you took his hand and placed it at the hem of pat’s shirt yourself. you helped art lift the fabric, kissing every inch of skin that was revealed on the way. 

you barely noticed the shirt hit the mattress — your eyes were already caught on something much more interesting. right above you, patrick reached a hand to the base of art’s neck and rested his forehead against his. they were inches away from each other’s lips. 

you saw it happen, the moment patrick pulled closer and art gave in. it was all tongue, an urge suppressed for too long before this night creeped up on them. you could feel art’s cock twitching in his pants as you tried to open his zipper.

“you two look so cute, aching for each other like that.” you laughed, not even close to poking fun at them… just honored to be in the middle of it.

patrick smirked, tugging your hair lightly until you straightened up between them. he pulled both you and art in, everything blurring into the messiest kiss you ever experienced, not sure anymore where one person ended and the other one began. 

“can’t wait, i need you.” art whimpered, tugging his pants and boxers down himself. at that point you couldn’t even be sure if he was talking to you or his best friend. 

patrick lifted your face slightly, stealing all of your attention to his brown eyes. “you said you could handle both of us, so now you’re gonna be good, ok?” his tone was calm, almost condescending. “if something feels too much, you tell me. if you change your mind at any point we stop, no questions asked.”

you nodded, heart pounding, legs already shaking. you felt oddly safe in their arms, like maybe you’d already memorized their bodies and their voices in another life.

“come here. bend over,” patrick instructed, easing you down until your ass was in the air and your face rested in his lap. “wanna watch art have his way with you first. let him get you ready for me.”

you couldn’t think. not with the sight of art’s flushed tip leaking as he stroked himself coming closer to you. he placed one hand on your hip, calloused fingers from the drumsticks grabbing with no restraint left. the other hand lined his cock with your entrance, until he pushed in, painfully slow. 

“f-fuck — ” he gasped. “you’re so wet. it feels too good.” 

patrick glanced down over the scene with a smug satisfaction burning in his eyes, looking proud of himself for setting everything up. maybe later art would finally admit he was a mastermind, after all. 

his own pants dropped just enough to free his length, which bobbed dangerously close to your face. you kissed down his happy trail, breath hot, one hand wrapping around the base just before your lips met his tip.

it was big enough for you to choke on it, small tears forming on the corner of your eyes. but he didn’t force it. didn’t guide. his hand simply stroked your hair back, gently, like he wanted to watch you try.

“you can do better than that.” he rasped, pulling out long enough for you to catch your breath. “has art fucked you stupid yet?” 

he didn’t wait for an answer, just eased you back down with a curl of his fingers, coaching you into a steadier rhythm as you moaned around him.

truth was, it was nearly impossible to focus with art pounding into you and his short nails digging into your hips like he was holding on for dear life. 

the way patrick spoke and the view of his thick cock sliding into your mouth did something to art too, you could tell by the beautiful noises leaving his lips. 

“shit, i’m gonna come, i need to cum.” he exhaled, equal parts despair from the overwhelming sensations and embarrassment for not lasting as long as he’d like to. 

“it’s ok.” pat cooed, gently dragging him down for another kiss. “fuck her through it. let me feel how you shake from it.” 

art didn’t stand a chance. not with you clenching around him like that. not with patrick whispering filth that close to his mouth.

he came inside you. didn’t mean to, but the moment his body broke, his hips snapped forward, burying himself deep with a low, wrecked groan. it was like his whole body forgot how to let go.

you blinked, dazed, face still in patrick’s lap, lips wet from his cock. art collapsed forward, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades, chest heaving.

patrick looked down, unfazed. almost proud again.

“you came inside her?” he asked, barely laughing, like he already knew.

art nodded, cheeks flushed and eyes still unfocused.

“you on the pill?” patrick asked you, hand brushing hair from your cheek.

“yeah,” you whispered, legs still trembling.

“good,” he said simply, and without waiting, he pulled you up. his hands gripped your hips and dragged you into his lap, cock still hard and slick with your spit, pressing up between your thighs. he didn’t bother lining himself up with his hand, he used your body instead, rocking your weight until your entrance caught on his tip. “then it’s my turn.”

he pushed up. slow at first, stretching you wider with the thickness of him, groaning into your neck when he bottomed out. his grip stayed firm, holding you steady while he filled the space art had just left.

you could still feel art’s cum inside you, warm and dripping, all of it being fucked back into you.

patrick growled against your skin. “you were made for this, weren’t you?”

you whimpered, hands flying to his chest, trying to brace yourself but he was already going quicker, deeper, letting his frustration pour into every thrust. 

behind you, art was still breathing hard, but not gone. his eyes followed every move, hand sliding over his own cock, still half hard, slowly stroking. his other hand found your spine, tracing it down gently, grounding you.

patrick was muttering filth against your throat, fucking up into you harder. “god, you’re so fucked out already. such a mess.”

“pat…” you moaned, voice weak.

“that’s it. take it,” he growled, eyes locked on yours.

art’s voice broke through, quiet and calm, a sharp contrast.

“you’re doing so good,” he whispered, kissing your shoulder, then your jaw. “just a bit more, ok? he’s almost there”

he kept stroking himself slowly, the rhythm in perfect counterpoint to patrick’s roughness. he kissed your lips between words, sweet and soft.

your skin was burning. you felt yourself tightening again, caught in the middle of them. 

“come for me, please. i need to see your face.” art said, touching your clit gently. your body gave into his command. 

patrick groaned beneath you and slammed in one final time, cock pulsing as he came. his hips stuttered, teeth pressed to your neck as he spilled into you.

“fuck, you’re perfect.” pat hissed as art kissed your temple. “we should keep you around.” 

💌 taglist: @jamespotteraliveversion

[2-dsimp]

“Where have you been all my life~?♤”

Cw: fem reader x yandere criminal! Ex-boyfriend

Synopsis: you’ve been working in the law enforcement. Mainly to find out about the disappearance of your now ex-boyfriend Eiom. Who went radio silent after claiming that he was going on a business trip. Only to never come back, 6 months later leaving you devastated…

≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡ ≡≡≡≡≡

You’re working as a watch guard, making rounds around the high security compound. Being one of the few females around you had to remain vigilant.

You were no stranger to the catcalls and disparaging remarks made by the differing breeds of scummy inmates. However one caught your eye, a satyr named Eiom.

Your criminal Ex-boyfriend. That’s delusional enough to still believes you guys are together.

Even after he went missing for a whole 6 months without so much as a word.

Eiom was an utter scruffy mess, his chestnut curly hair grown out in an unruly fashion. Covering his face, the length of it reaching his ankles.

His claws tapped against the jailed collar beeping upon his neck. Gods he was itching to see you, the only damned ray of sunshine he’d see for miles.

Noticing your presence, the convict eyed you up and down, his heart starting to pound like the damn drum. At seeing the love of his life behind prison bars. It was fate that brought you two back together. It had to be!

Eiom whistled, ”Hot damn do you look good in that tight ass uniform...” His eyes were shamelessly eyefucking you from top to bottom.

“Let me take a gander at them titties. The girls look like they’re in need of some extra hands on deck”You merely rolled your eyes, he was always such a pervy goofball. Just one of the things you found stupidly endearing for a guy accused of being a felon.

Eiom braced himself against the bars of his enclosure. His tail restlessly wagged at your close proximity.

Hooves clopping upon the ground as he tried to reach through the bars, and caress your plump skin. To see if you were actually real and not a figment of his imagination.

“Cmon Baby cakes cut me some slack, can’t daddy get a welcome kiss at least?” He’d badger at you, like an annoying fly as you readied his meal tray.

The satyr had to be served food in isolation due to his aggression with the other inmates and guards. And funnily enough you were put in charge of his meal times.

“Seriously I’ve gone far too long without em! I’m past the withdrawal stage, imma die if we ain’t sucking each other’s face off right here n now.“ Your ex begged melodramatically, Eiom was still infatuated with you as he was before y’all’s relationship went to hell. From your standpoint, that is.

A part of You couldn’t deny that seeing the rugged goat boy again in the flesh did something to you.

All those missed calls, messages, hell even emails. You scoured every connection you had to find where the hell he was for 6 goddamned months. Only for a stroke of luck to place you right before him.

You could basically do anything you wanted. Possibly take revenge on him for leaving you with no viable explanation.

Or maybe try to uncover the bigger picture?

[jaysng]

🫐 - jake! maybe about reader having some hardships during her pregnancy but baby daddy jake would be ready to do anything for her comfort !!

rejecting his kisses | sjy

pairing: husband!jake x wife!reader

genre: fluff bro what else i write 😭😭

synopsis: reader is growing sensitive day by day to touches and snaps at jake, jake being a mature husband handles the situation well.

everything felt so much more overwhelming, jake kept a family dinner and everyone was over, his members and his family. 

“how are my babies doing?” jake said as he nuzzled his nose in your neck as you moved back in annoyance. 

oh he noticed it but shrugged it off, maybe it was just a silly reaction right?

the sound of everyone talking at the same time in their own conversation rings around in your ears making it hard for you to keep up with everything jake had his hands on you the whole day, hugging you from behind, talking to his friends and family with a hand on your bump, rubbing your nose agaisnt his, kissing your cheeks, lips and forehead. yeah sounds cute but not when you’re feeling everything a little too much. 

what is going on. 

it was so bad that you had to shut your room door so loud and settle on the bed, 

there you were, pregnant and finally on your thrid trimester with your annoying husband being extra touchy anywhere he could find you at.

rubbing your temples you sat on the bed, grabbed the water from the beside table and starting chugging it down. 

meanwhile, jake who already spotted your absensce in the living room came in “bub?” you heard his voice and your brain gave a reaction not again. 

he walks in as you don’t even dare to look at him in the eye, your eyes closed as you take deep breath. 

“did i do something” he leans over to your face while staring deep “no..” u say as he hums in question he sits beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder “are you oka-“ you cut him off,

“no- just no- please okay? please just get your hands off of me please jake. stay away from me i am not feeling all your touches just leave me the fuck alone.” you say raising your voice. 

the next thing you see is tears in jake’s eyes as he looks away from you trying to hold them in. 

“i am sorry.” 

a moment of complete silence goes by as you rest your head on the headboard.

you notice him avoiding your looks and turning to the other side, hesitant to ask you if you need anything again.

“did i do something wrong?” he asks out of curiosity “i won’t touch you if—“

“no i dont know.. i am sorry i dont feel like getting touched i dont know.. i don’t know why i am being like this i don’t know” as you’re saying he turns around and comes closer to you.

attentively listening as he brings a hand to tug your hair strand back.

“hey no no it’s fine, its completely fine yeah, this is super normal for pregnant women to feel..” he says as tears start spilling from your eyes because of how understanding he is. 

jake has always put your perspective before his, always understanding everything you did, always finding a reason for your actions and letting you express yourself, god you think what did you do to deserve him. 

“b-but jake” you say as he holds your face in his hands and squishes your cheeks trying to calm you down.

“at this stage you’ve grown more sensitive. to touches to words to noises to everything” he says bringing his hands back to himself, “isn’t it?” 

you nod in agreement as he adds “so don’t ever blame yourself about all this okay? i love you just how it is. nothing will ever change that” 

you look at him and take his hand and place it on your belly, he makes sure to keep it exactly where you kept and not rub it because of muscle memory 

he pauses and lets out a little laugh as he feels the baby kicking where his arm is placed “just try not to be as aggressive as you were okay?” you nod once again as he kisses your cheeks wiping your tears off his lips. 

“baby doesn’t like hearing mum and dad argue does it?” he says as he feels another kick to his palm as you both laugh out of surprise. 

it makes you giggle, mood swings are crazy.

[luigilore]

omg regarding the bush! i get the worst rashes from shaving and i’ve really tried everything and it doesn’t matter what i do it still appears eventually and it’s so annoying and painful! i can imagine it honestly, your relationship is a little new so you’re still at that stage where you’d be a little shy about letting your hair grow out, but maybe after moving in together and having sex most days, having to shave every day would really start taking a toll on your body. maybe you cut yourself shaving once, and then you’re undressing in front of him and he sees it and is alarmed immediately (it would probably look worse because of the irritation to the skin around it). omg he’d be so concerned, asking what happened to you, and you would, to his horror, act like it’s nothing… “is that— is that because of shaving?” and you’d kind of shrug “yeah, i think so. i’m just shaving really often, so maybe the skin is more tender or something, i don’t know. but it’ll heal in a day or two.” and he’d just stare at you with genuine horror all over his face. he’d swallow, then look at the cut again and then your face, blushing when asking, “do you feel the need to shave because of me? because i like you either way, i promise.” and you wouldn’t really know what to say, “no, yes? kinda? i don’t know.” he wouldn’t know how to breach the subject, probably, because he wouldn’t want to tell you what to do or not do with your body, but he’d sum it up pretty well by saying, solemn as fuck too probably, “i don’t like you hurting yourself.” and that’d be that. it would take a while for you to feel comfortable with ANY hair there at all, but he’d love it SO much (more than even he expected) and let you know. he’d be holding your thighs open and just staring, eyes dark “oh, sweetheart, you’re fucking beautiful.” 😖

OMG anon this is soooo good ty bc i ate this up omfg ���😣 im like you it is SO annoying <//3

okay ugh one day you’re making out and pause to shimmy your shorts and underwear down and he immediately is like 😦 and ur so casual like “oh, yeah it’s just from shaving, it should heal quick, sorry.” and his mouth is still agape, jaw dropped and he’s like “sorry?”

ur right he would be so upset, eyebrows knitted as he purses his lips quiet for a few moments, before looking up at you seriously and asking you if it’s bc of him 😭😭 and you’re like “omg no!!” and then r like “maybe?” lol yeah he would feel awkward he doesn't want to tell you what to do but i feel like he would be so protective of u... like even against yourself sometimes... if that makes sense. so but yes solemn af: “i don’t like you hurting yourself.” and it’s your turn to be a bit stunned idk like sorry he’s now getting ur coconut oil or whatever from the bathroom for this to apply carefully

and when ur shy the first few times you stop/slow down on shaving lu would be so sweet and reassuring, "it’s just me, it’s just us, it’s the same as always." 💕💕 he’d worship you omggg bc i feel like he couldn't stand to see you self conscious esp not abt something so natural and beautiful, hands on your thighs rubbing subconsciously and soothingly up and down and massaging gently.

[bluebirdinhissky]

Letting go

Hyunjin x Y/N.

Bird note: This is pure angst. I made myself cry with this….

You were sitting on the floor, your back against the wall, watching the others finish up soundcheck on the monitor. You hadn’t said much all day; not because you were upset, but because Hyunjin had been acting weird since the night before. You’d caught him laughing way too easily with one of the staff girls and hadn’t said anything about it, and it somehow made you feel… invisible.

Hyunjin walked in first when they came back, tossing a towel at a chair like it had personally offended him. His eyes flicked over to you.

“You could’ve come out and watched,” he said, dropping onto the couch beside your spot on the floor.

You didn’t even look up. “Didn’t feel like it.”

He scoffed. “Right. You’re so supportive.”

Your jaw tensed. “I don’t need to be glued to your side to be supportive.”

Hyunjin leaned forward, “You sure? You seemed pretty glued last night, until I talked to someone else.”

You looked at him then, the slow burn of irritation rising. “Wow. So we’re doing that?”

“Doing what?” he said, clearly baiting you, lips twisted into something halfway between a smirk and a sneer.

You stood, brushing off your legs. “You want me to say it? Fine. Maybe I just didn’t feel like watching you be charming with everyone but me.”

Hyunjin stood too, a little too fast, like your words hit something. “You’re jealous?”

You laughed once, not amused. “I’m not jealous. I just don’t like feeling invisible.”

“That’s rich,” he said, stepping closer. “Coming from the girl who treats me like I’m annoying 90% of the time.”

“Only because you are,” you snapped back, folding your arms even though it made your chest feel tighter. “You push every button I have and act like it’s cute.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. “Maybe I do it because it’s the only way to get a reaction out of you.”

You blinked at that. You hated how true it felt. There was a pause, the kind that hangs too long and says too much. Someone laughed from the hallway. Neither of you moved.

Then Hyunjin exhaled and looked away. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”

“Yeah?” you said quietly.

His voice dropped, quieter now. “But I don’t want anyone else to exhaust me like this.”

You stared at him, arms still folded. “Then stop making me feel like I don’t matter.”

The tension had to be cut thanks to Han who entered the room to get Hyunjin to go get ready for the show. He left the room without saying anything else.

***

Later that night, after the concert, the green room was mostly empty now, just the hum of vending machines and the distant clatter of someone wheeling cases out near the stage exit. Everyone else had drifted out to change or head to the hotel. You stayed behind. You hadn’t spoken much since rehearsal ended, and neither had Hyunjin.

He was scrolling on his phone, leaning against a makeup table with one leg propped up, his expression unreadable but his energy was sharp. Cold, even.

You sat across from him on a chair, your arms loosely wrapped around your knees. You knew he was irritated.

“Are you gonna stay quiet all night again?” he finally asked, not looking up.

You hesitated. “I didn’t know we were talking.”

He scoffed, putting his phone face down. “Yeah. Because talking with you lately is so fun.”

Your stomach sank. “I didn’t say anything wrong.”

“That’s the thing,” he said, standing up straight. “You never say anything. You just sit there with that look like I’m the bad guy and wait for me to fix it.”

You looked down. “I’m not trying to make you feel like anything.”

“No?” He took a few steps closer. “Then maybe tell me what’s going on instead of acting like a sad little ghost every time I talk to someone else.”

You flinched at the phrasing but stayed quiet.

He sighed, pacing now. “God, Y/N. It’s like… I try. I flirt, I joke, I give you all this attention, and you just… blink at me like I’m annoying you.”

“I’m not… ” you started, but he cut you off.

“Yes, you are. You always are, and then the second someone else actually talks to me, you shut down like I’ve cheated on you or something.”

You pressed your lips together. “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to say it. You feel it and you don’t even try to hide it.”

You stood up now, voice quiet. “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to feel anything.”

“Oh, but you feel everything,” he said with a bitter edge. “You just don’t say anything until it’s too late, then you sulk and disappear and expect me to figure it out.”

“I never ask you to figure me out,” you said. “You do that on your own.”

Hyunjin’s jaw clenched. He looked at you like he didn’t recognize you for a second. Then, in a voice low but razor-sharp, he said:

“Maybe I’m just tired of trying so hard for someone who clearly doesn’t know what they want.”

You blinked. The words hit like a slap. Your stomach dropped, your chest went cold, but you didn’t say anything. You just looked at him, your face completely still.

From down the hall, Bang Chan appeared at the doorway, looking like he’d just come back to grab something, but the tension in the room stopped him. You didn’t move. Hyunjin didn’t either.

“Y/N,” Chan said gently, “can you give us a second?”

You nodded without speaking, brushing past him quietly, not making eye contact.

Chan stepped in, shutting the door behind you with a soft click.

Hyunjin didn’t look at him.

There was a silence, then Chan spoke, calm, even, but not casual. “I know I shouldn’t interfere in stuff like this. Your relationships are your business.”

Hyunjin stared at the floor. “Then don’t.”

Chan’s voice didn’t change. “Normally I wouldn’t, but I heard what you said just now.”

That made Hyunjin glance up, briefly, then away again.

“And I just…” Chan let out a soft breath. “I know you. I know you’re not mean. Not really. But that?” He shook his head. “That wasn’t okay.”

Hyunjin didn’t reply.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Chan continued. “But I need you to hear this: it’s not fair to tear someone down just because you’re frustrated, especially not someone who never fights back.”

That made Hyunjin’s jaw twitch.

“She’s not built to yell or push or throw words back at you. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel them, and you know that.”

“I didn’t mean it,” Hyunjin said finally, voice flat. “I just… ” He cut himself off.

Chan watched him closely. “But you did say it. And you said it knowing she wouldn’t say anything back.”

Hyunjin’s eyes dropped again, shoulders tightening.

Chan’s voice softened. “I’ve seen the way you look at her, Jinnie. And I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks no one notices. So if you want her, really want her, you’ve gotta learn how to not throw knives just because you’re scared or frustrated.”

There was a heavy silence between them. Then Chan turned to leave, pausing at the door. “I’m not judging you. I’ve said things I regret too. Just… don’t wait too long to fix it.”

He left the door slightly ajar as he stepped out, his footsteps fading into the hallway.

Hyunjin didn’t move for a while. He just stood there, staring at the floor, the echo of what he said and the look on your face when he said it sitting heavy in his chest like a bruise that hadn’t formed yet.

***

Back in the hotel room, lights off, you’re curled under a blanket, your phone on silent. Your chest had carried that low, heavy ache all night, the kind that feels like you swallowed something too sharp to digest.

There was a knock at the door. Three taps. Then nothing.

You didn’t move.

Then came a voice, quiet and familiar.

“…It’s me.”

You stayed silent. More silence followed. Then, the voice, a little lower this time, more cautious.

“Please let me in.”

You thought about pretending to sleep. About waiting for him to give up, but eventually, something gave in you and you got up, padding barefoot across the carpet to open the door.

Hyunjin stood there.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

You nodded, barely, and moved aside. He stepped in slowly. Didn’t sit, just stood near the wall, fidgeting with his sleeves.

“I… didn’t mean what I said,” he began, voice low and shaky. “Earlier. I didn’t mean it.”

You sat on the edge of the bed, arms around yourself. You didn’t say anything.

“I was frustrated. Not with you. Just… everything. And you were just there. And I said something to hurt you because I felt like you weren’t letting me in.”

You looked at your hands.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little now, trying to find the right words and failing.

“I don’t know how to handle this thing between us,” he muttered. “You’re quiet, and I’m loud. You shut down, and I take it personally. I know I shouldn’t. I just… I like you, and I hate feeling like I’m the only one feeling everything.”

That made your throat tighten.

“I’m not saying that to guilt you,” he added quickly, softer now. “I’m just… I don’t know. I wanted to hurt you, and that makes me feel disgusting.”

You looked up finally. Your voice was small.

“But you were right.”

He blinked. “What?”

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I want.”

You felt the truth dig in deeper as you spoke. “I get scared every time you get too close. I don’t know how to let people in without wondering when they’ll leave. I just thought if I didn’t say anything… if I stayed quiet enough… maybe you wouldn’t notice how hard it is for me.” You looked down again. “So yeah. Maybe you’re tired of trying for someone like me, and maybe you should be.”

“Don’t do that,” he said, quietly.

You shook your head, the words coming slowly. “It’s not your fault I don’t know how to ask for things or to tell you when I’m hurting. It’s not your fault I always wait for the worst to happen. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did,” he cut in, stepping closer. “I did. I said something cruel because I felt powerless and insecure and I wanted to get a reaction. That’s not okay.” Hyunjin knelt in front of you “I did say something cruel,” he whispered again. “And I hate myself for it.”

You let his words linger there. But then you leaned back, pulling away slightly, your arms still wrapped tightly around yourself.

“I know,” you said, voice calm. “And it’s okay. You were being honest and I needed to hear it.”

He blinked, confused. “Y/N… “

You looked at him then. Not angry. Not distant. Just… clear.

“I’m not good for you,” you said gently, and his entire body stiffened.

“Don’t say that,” he whispered.

“It’s true,” you continued, even as your throat closed. “I shut down. I disappear. I hold everything in until it poisons both of us. I make you question yourself without even meaning to.”

Hyunjin shook his head, eyes wide now. “Stop, no, you’re scared, that’s all. You don’t have to push me away.”

“I’m not pushing,” you said softly. “I’m letting go. That’s different.”

He stood abruptly, hands on his hips like he didn’t know what to do with them. “You don’t get to do this right after I apologize. After I tell you I want to try.”

“That’s the problem,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “You want to try. And I make it hard. I make you feel unseen. You said it yourself, you’re tired. And you’re right to be.”

“I said that because I was hurt,” he snapped. “Not because I meant it!”

“But it came from somewhere, didn’t it?” you said, quieter. “Things like that don’t come out of nowhere.”

He turned to face you again, eyes glassy. “You think I care how hard it is? You think I don’t want you, even like this? Messy and quiet and guarded and complicated?”

“I think,” you said, standing now, “that you deserve someone who doesn’t make love feel like a burden.”

There was silence.

A long one.

And then, shakily, he said: “Please don’t do this.”

You looked at him: Hyunjin, with all his softness wrapped in sharp edges, with his heart out in the open for you, and it broke something in you to say it, but you did.

“I think I need to be alone. And I think… you need someone who isn’t still trying to learn how to be loved.”

He looked at you like he didn’t recognize you. “So that’s it? Just like that?”

You shook your head, tears threatening now but never falling. “Not just like that. I’ve thought about it. I just couldn’t admit it until tonight.”

Hyunjin’s chest rose and fell like he was holding something in. A scream. A sob. Something that would unravel him.

So instead, you whispered, “I’m sorry,” and stepped toward the door.

He reached for you, but stopped himself.

“I think…” you start, your voice trembling despite how calm you try to sound, “I need to be alone.”

Hyunjin stares at you, like he’s waiting for a punchline that never comes. “No.”

Your hands twist in the hem of your shirt. You force yourself to meet his eyes. “You should go.”

“No.” His voice is louder now. Cracked. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious, Hyunjin.”

He’s already shaking his head, chest rising unevenly. “You don’t mean this. You’re overwhelmed. I get it. I messed up, I said something awful, but we can talk through it. You don’t have to… You don’t have to do this.”

You swallow hard, fighting the sting in your eyes. “I do.”

His eyes are already wet.

“Don’t… ” He moves toward you, eyes desperate. “Don’t do that. Don’t make me leave when I just… I just figured out how to be honest with you. Don’t throw that away.”

“I’m not throwing it away,” you whisper. “I’m setting it down before it destroys us both.”

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. His voice comes out broken. “God, Y/N, please don’t… please don’t do this.”

You reach up and touch his wrist gently, not to hold him there, but to say goodbye.

“I’m not angry,” you say, barely above a whisper. “You didn’t do anything unforgivable”.

He starts crying then, real tears, no holding back and it kills you. But you cry too. Soft, quiet, resigned. Not because you don’t love him, but because you do.

“I can be better,” he says, voice shaking. “Just give me a chance. I’ll wait, I’ll… I’ll be patient… “

“I know you would,” you whisper, tears sliding down your cheeks. “But I wouldn’t forgive myself if I stayed and kept hurting you every time I get scared.”

He looks at you for a long time, like he’s trying to memorize your face, like maybe he won’t see it again, and then, slowly, you reach for the door.

“…Please don’t make me leave,” he says one last time.

But you don’t answer. You step aside. The silence says everything. He doesn’t move. You gently place your hand on his chest, light pressure, just enough to guide.

And he breaks, but he lets you.

Hyunjin walks out with a stifled sob and a shattered look, his steps slow like he’s dragging his heart behind him.

You close the door with a trembling hand, and then you slide down to the floor, your back to the wood, and let yourself finally fall apart.

***

The door clicked shut behind him.

He didn’t move at first.

Couldn’t.

His hand was still halfway lifted, like he might knock again, like maybe this wasn’t real, like maybe he was dreaming and you were going to open it and say, “Come back.”

But the silence was deafening, and then came the sting in his chest. The unbearable, aching pressure building from the center of his ribs, crawling up his throat.

He pressed a hand over his mouth and stumbled down the hallway. His eyes were burning, his breathing uneven. He moved fast, too fast, barely able to see through the blur. The hallway stretched out like a tunnel, too long, too bright, too exposed.

He couldn’t let anyone see him like this. Not a manager. Not a staff member. Not a bandmate.

Not even Chan hyung.

He reached the corner and turned sharply, fumbling his key card out of his hoodie pocket with shaking hands. He dropped it. Cursed. Picked it up again.

His chest hiccuped, sobs building too fast for him to control.

“Come on come on come on”

The light on the door turned green, he shoved it open, slipped inside, and slammed it shut behind him. The lock clicked into place.

And then he collapsed, back against the door, sliding down it like someone had pulled the floor out from under him. He hit the carpet hard, breath catching in short, painful bursts.

Then the tears came, raw, silent at first, then louder. He curled into himself, hands in his hair, teeth clenched, like he could hold his body together just long enough for the grief to pass, but it didn’t. It just kept coming. The sound, the pain, the emptiness. Everything.

You were gone.

Not literally, not physically, but in all the ways that mattered.

You’d said you weren’t angry.

That made it worse.

You weren’t angry. You were hurt and tired, and still sweet even while pushing him out of your life. Hyunjin let out a rough, trembling sound and buried his face in his knees.

He wasn’t supposed to break like this, he was supposed to be able to fix it.

But he couldn’t fix you.

He couldn’t fix himself.

And he couldn’t go back through that door and make you change your mind, so he stayed there, on the floor, alone in his hotel room, while his heart broke so loudly it almost drowned out the quiet.

***

The carpet beneath him had long since lost its comfort. He’d stopped crying after what felt like hours to him, but the hollowness that followed was worse.

He lay on the floor like he wasn’t sure what to do with his body. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw yours, wide, sad, quiet in a way that begged him not to make you say more than you already had.

“I’m not angry.”

It echoed in his head like a curse. You hadn’t even yelled; you’d just… given up.

That was what killed him most. Not the door closing, not the quiet push, but the way you looked at him, like you loved him and it still wasn’t enough.

At some point, he sat up and pulled himself into the bed like a ghost, limbs heavy and slow. He stared at the ceiling, arms crossed over his chest, like maybe if he held himself tight enough, he wouldn’t fall apart again, but the words wouldn’t stop pressing on his ribs, begging to be let out.

So he turned onto his side, reached for his phone, and opened your name in his messages. He stared at the screen for a long time.

Then he started typing.

[3:26AM]

I don’t know what I’m trying to say yet, so this will probably be all over the place. I’m sorry in advance. You don’t have to respond. I just need to get this out before it eats me alive.

I think what scares me most right now is that you really believe what you said tonight. That you’re bad for me. That I should want someone else. That being scared makes you unlovable. None of that is true, but you believe it, and I didn’t do enough to make you believe otherwise before it was too late.

You don’t shut down because you want to hurt me. You shut down because you’ve been hurt before. And I should have known that. I should have seen that your silence wasn’t distance, it was survival.

But instead, I made it about me. I wanted more, and I didn’t ask gently. I demanded it. I cornered you. I tried to pull emotion out of you like I was owed it. And when I didn’t get what I wanted, I said something awful just to get a reaction.

And it worked. I got a reaction. I lost you.

I don’t blame you for asking me to leave. I deserved that. I made you feel like love was conditional. Like it came with rules. Like if you didn’t meet my expectations, I’d punish you for it. And the truth is… I think I was punishing myself, too. For being too much. For needing too much. For wanting you the way I do.

You don’t even know how much I want you. All of you. The quiet parts. The messy parts. The parts that hide when things get real.

I want your silence. I want your fear. I want the space between your words. I want the parts of you that think they’re too complicated to be loved.

I know you don’t believe me. But I’d stay, even if you didn’t talk for a week. I’d stay, even if you never figured out how to explain what you’re feeling. I’d stay because loving you isn’t a transaction for me. It’s not based on what I get back.

I love you.

I didn’t say it earlier. I should have. But I love you.

I’m not sending this to win you back. I know that’s not how this works. I just want you to know that even if we’re done, even if this was it, I’ll always remember the quiet way you looked at me when you asked me to go, and how much love I still saw in your eyes even while your voice was breaking.

I don’t hate you. I never could.

I’m still here, Y/N. Even if you never want me back.

He stared at the screen for a long time before hitting send, and when he did, he set the phone face-down on the pillow beside him, like maybe it would warm the empty space where you would’ve been.

[suuuupernovaaa]

Clean | Hobie Brown x f!Reader

You got yourself into a little bit of a fight, and Hobie has to patch you up.

Mature. 18+. Mention of blood.

The cloth meets your tender skin, and you hiss and try to pull your hand away.

"Hobie, that hurts," you say through gritted teeth. "What is on that?"

Holding your hand tightly to your chest, as if to protect it from him, you look up to see an exasperated expression on his face.

"Stuff to clean it. Give me that back." He grabs your hand a little gruffly, and puts the cloth back on. When the sting subsides, it does feel nice and cool.

"Someone out to teach you how to throw a proper punch," Hobie says, dabbing the cloth gently, moving it up your arm to where your other scrapes are. None of them are terribly deep, except a slight gash on your thigh from, you think, falling onto some broken glass.

"I know how," you reply quietly. He moves to your other arm, and you feel the stinging again. "It wasn't much punching, anyway. It was like... clawing and shoving. It was chaotic."

He gives you your hands back, and looks down at your legs, noticing the cut on your thigh. He lets a whistle out from between his teeth, and stands up. He rinses out the cloth he's been using, and grabs a new one from his kitchen drawer. He puts more 'stuff' on it, and returns to you, sitting down.

"This is gonna hurt." He scoots close, so that your legs are between his, and without another warning, presses the cloth to your cut.

"Oh crap!" you shout, and you're annoyed when Hobie starts chuckling.

"Oh crap!" he mimics in a high-pitched voice, meant to resemble yours. He places a large bandage on your leg, and a couple others on cuts that look a little nastier on your arms, and then sits back. "Think you'll survive," he comments. "Now, you need to tell me why you were in a fight. Looked like a couple of cats in a bag when I arrived."

You turn away, looking from where you sit at his kitchen table over to the TV, which is showing the news. Hobie always has the news on, even though he hates it and everything they ever talk about.

"It just, escalated. She was a fan, I guess, of the band. And she asked if I knew you, and I said yes. And she said... some not nice things. She was just drunk."

You're his whore, then? Do you think I could get in on some of that? I'm sure he's not very picky. I mean, look at you.

You can feel the way she grabbed at your stomach, pinching it. It felt like something scripted out of a bad teen movie, except it was really happening, and she just wouldn't stop.

"What did she say?" Hobie asks. When you look back at him, he's leaned forward, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.

"It doesn't really matter. It's over."

"It matters to me."

You shake your head and wave your hand in the air, as if to dismiss the conversation. "Really, Hobie. It was just, I don't want to relive it."

He reaches out and places a warm hand on your bruised knee. "Tell me."

You roll your eyes and sigh. "She said like, I must be, uh, sleeping with you and your standards must be low because... I'm like, fat, or whatever."

Hobie sits up, his back straight as a board, his eyebrows raised and his jaw a little slack. "And you beat the shit out of her?"

You draw your line into a straight mouth and nod. "Sort of. I mean, I can't fight but, she was bleeding and crying at the end of it. I was bleeding too but, I wasn't crying."

He nods, as if in approval. "Why does she think we're sleeping together?" he asked. "She's seen you, at a show or something?"

"I didn't get a whole backstory, Hobie. I guess so."

"Hm." He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Must've noticed how I look at you. Everyone has. 'Cept you."

How Hobie looks at you? You try to think of what he could be referring to. Sometimes when he's on stage, he finds you in the crowd and smiles. But, you're good friends, so that doesn't seem all that exciting to you - does it seem that way to everyone else?

"How do you look at me?"

"Like I'd like to fuck you, Y/N. Like the shape of your body is all I can think about, and it really doesn't fucking matter what anyone else thinks about it. It fucking keeps me up at night."

It feels like you've been slapped in the chest, and all the air has left your lungs. Your mouth is instantly dry, and your legs feel weak.

Hobie is so dry, so even-toned, it's hard to tell if he's joking or not - but would that be a funny joke right now? Hobie is a lot of things, but he's not insensitive, and he certainly wouldn't try to hurt you on purpose.

"It does?" you ask finally.

He leans forward again, bringing his face just a few inches from yours. "I want you, Y/N. I thought I'd made it obvious, but now I see, I didn't."

You lick your bottom lip, and Hobie glances down at your mouth.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask, and a soft moan escapes his mouth, as if asking for permission turns him on. You feel his fingertips on your cheek, running upwards, until he cups your face in his hand.

You should close your eyes, you think, but the sight of him coming towards you is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. His soft brown eyes, his full lips, his sharp cheek bones, his glistening piercings; you want to remember every sharp edge and round corner.

He pauses, just before your lips meet and whispers, "Anything you want to do to me, you can."

[deezbignutz]

More Redacted hc bc why tf not, yknow :))))) (this is also to make up for not doing Brachium and Christian but u don't need to know that-)

One time during their early stages of dating, Angel found out about henna from Baaabe and wanted to surprise David with it some cool squiggles and flowers knowing damn well he would have a strong reaction to it. He did in fact have a strong reaction to it, and so did Angel when they realised they were highly allergic to one of the ingredients used in henna and was immediately brought to the hospital by a very worried David.

Asher has a knack for finding the most unsettling and disturbing facts and sending them to Milo because he doesn't need to know about it at all and gets pissed when Asher texts him in the middle of something important. (Also, fun fact! Camel's piss is as thick as syrup and it was thought to have medicinal properties, so people back then mixed it with camel milk and drink it. It did not have medicinal properties and didn't taste very good)

Gavin has a taser that is bedazzled in pink gems with text written on the front saying "Get tased, b*tch". He bought it for himself some time ago in case some perv got a little too comfortable without his consent.

Damien has a bad habit of chewing on his bottom lip when he's frustrated or zoning out, and he has done it so much that it old cuts bleed on its own even when he isn't biting it. This has led Huxley to buying lip ointments and lip balms for him and placing them in Damien's and his bags whenever they go out, he also has them littered around his home whenever he comes over, in the pockets of his clothes in case they don't bring their bags when going out, and one more he brings everywhere for back up.

Once Freelancer got Caelum a lego set for him to fiddle with while they were doing their coursework. The next day when he finally finished it, they watched in horror as Caelum destroyed the set so he could build it all over again, since he didn't understanding that once you build it, it's done.

Christian has a designer brand crescent cross body bag (it's not designer, he just likes saying it is because it's one of the only expensive things he owns), and because of this, Arden and Kelsey have lovingly named him an eshay (which is a stereotypically hypermasculine Australian man who are inclined to crime and violence, or basically just an annoying Aussie brat who's obsessed with masculinity/a chav) much to his chagrin.

Sweetheart has half empty cups and mugs scattered all over their room with most of the liquid in it drying up or turning into syrup from all the water evaporating. It hasn't gone so far as for mold to start appearing, but it's definitely getting there.

Porter has collected many little things that remind him of Treasure ever since he met them in that club, such as a surprisingly shiny penny from the ground, a cartoony key with a swirly heart on the end of it, a golden ring with hands on it that when worn looks like arms hugging your finger, and many other things that he keeps in his bedside table.

Darlin' and Sam write notes to each other and lay them around the house for each other to see when doing their normal routine. Like, Darlin' would be in the kitchen making their morning coffee and see a sticky note stuck on top of the coffee machine with some sappy shit like "Love you to bits, my Darlin'<3 P.S. Stop putting so many damn shots in your coffee, you're gonna get heart problems one of these days".

Hope y'all enjoy :)))))))

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk :D)))))

[corvidaequeer]

There's not really a point to this. I'm not saying Arcane is bad or you shouldn't watch it or you shouldn't like Jayce or jayvik... I'm just feeling annoyed at the way they took Jayce's character in the second season for a lot of reasons & I want to rant about it.

Starting with the whole scene of Jayce & Mel talking by comatose Viktor. Jayce says "never again" to making hextech weapons & Mel promises to protect his & Victor's dream. Then, 30 seconds later, Jayce makes Caitlyn more hextech weapons anyway! His wishy-washy promise wasn't surprising, just annoying that he'd make the same mistake AGAIN (Then a third time to defend Piltover from Ambessa's attack).

-

Later, in seeing the whole story, we know that Viktor sent Jayce back to teach himself some life lesson. So why was Jayce's first reaction to kill Salo & blow a hole in Viktor's chest?? Shouldn't he have tried to reach Viktor in a less murdery way first? Try to reason with him & teach him said life lesson? It just doesn't make sense.

-

After Jayce gets back to Piltover, he has this sudden resentment & distrust towards Mel. Where did that come from? Why does Jayce suddenly think Mel is an enemy?

Jayce starts accusing Mel of selecting who she protected. What would she have to gain from that? Even if Mel DID know she had powers, why would Jayce think she would willfully let the council & Viktor die? Why would he think her so cruel?

Then there's the "investments" line. Firstly, it was Alora that called Jayce an investment. Mel just said, "Indeed." Secondly, Who the fuck told him that happened anyway??

Then Jayce claims Mel was "using" them? Yes, she wanted Jayce & Viktor as allies & directed them in her favor, but thats really not "using" them. She saw a good opportunity to make some change & took it like anyone else would. The rest of the council used him for their own benefit far more than Mel did. But more importantly, Mel CARED about Jayce & Viktor. She cared about their dreams & helped them to achieve it! She was the one who supported them from the start. She was trying to get the council NOT to make hextech weapons. She wanted to protect their dream, but she's still somehow "using" Jayce & Viktor to get hextech?! Jayce is the one who keeps making hextech weapons without anyone pressuring him to do so! So what was the narrative point of having Jayce take his regrets out on Mel? What function did it serve?

That whole scene was just-

Mel: Hey, I need some emotional support from this traumatic thing that just happened to me

Jayce: Fuck you, Mel! You should have saved everyone. Also, how dare you have unconditionally supported Viktor & I & our research!!

The anger towards her just comes out of nowhere & has no evidence to back it up & it annoys me. Also, it just feels out of character, even with the more edgy way they portrayed Jayce in act 2 & 3. So, just, why?

-

Then there's "my partner died in this room." Jayce saw Viktor in the future, as himself, not the machine herald. He spoke with him & promised to fix things. So clearly, Viktor's humanity wasn't dead, so why even say that? What was the point?

-

Then there's Jayce's little speech. There are so many things with this.

Jayce, who had up to this point, chose violence, is suddenly all soft again & just NOW trying to reach Victor. Where was that in the last few days?? Would he not have done this first instead of blasting a hole in him?

"You always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses" No, bitch, he wanted to help people in poverty & didn't want to fucking die!! What are you even talking about!? Viktor was insecure ONE TIME about being up on stage, so why is Jayce diminishing Viktor's ENTIRE MOTIVATION to him being insecure about being disabled??

Then, in the same line of thinking, there's Jayce saying Viktor's disability & illness (his "imperfections") make him beautiful & he admires Viktor for that??! Cut the inspiration porn trope! Are we not passed that?!

Lastly, Jayce is supposed to show Viktor some life lesson of all that being left is "dreamless solitude" & "there is no prize to perfection" but Jayce doesn't even say any of that?? He just shows Viktor saying it. How is that something only Jayce can do?

Sure, I love the idea of Cosmic Destiny Partners. It's a great idea & a somewhat happy ending for these two. I get it, I do. But the whole path leading up to it & its execution was poor, confusing, & frankly ableist.

-

In general, Jayce just felt inconsistent.

Yeah, in season 1, Jayce has a track record for flip-flopping on his morals & ideals. His character arc is that of someone being easily swayed. He makes a lot of mistakes & then corrects himself by swinging in the complete opposite direction, only to make more mistakes. It's his character flaw.

Then season 2, he becomes more resolute in the promise he mentions. You think, oh, this makes sense. He finally grew a backbone & is standing his ground. Apparently, choosing violence as his footing, but still. He keeps this aggressive demeanor up for the rest of season 2. But then suddenly, right at the last second, he turns around & says the softest & sappiest shit in the whole show?? The fluffy confession of adoration & partnership just comes out of nowhere! If you're taking Jayce in an aggressive direction, then do so. Don't come in swinging with this totally different person.

Overall, it just feels like Jayce is there for shock value & relationship drama instead of being an actual character with solid motivations & and a steady narrative.

[trombonechurchill]

Contact

BuckTommy, 1.2k words, rated T

Instead of doing my several sentences sunday (thanks for the tags @staciesometimeswrites, @ambernotember, and @leashybebes ❤️) I accidentally wrote a whole ass ficlet instead.

Many thanks to @jacki-daytona for the original lights anecdote/idea mwah

Tommy realizes pretty quickly that they'll need to be a bit more careful when flirting at work. It's easy to forget they're not the only ones who know Morse code. --- Or; 3 times Buck and Tommy used Morse Code for fun and 1 time it was serious.

It starts when Evan gets the lights.

"Look, look, Tommy, I can use the app change the brightness or- Or, even the color. See? Instant mood lighting," Evan says, plunging the room in a deep blue that makes Tommy feel like they're underwater.

Tommy's not sure he gets the appeal, he's never had any trouble with an old fashioned lightswitch, but Evan seems happy.

Read the rest here or on AO3

As it turns out, Evan mostly uses the app to annoy and pester him when he feels like Tommy's not giving him enough attention, the lights flashing dangerously when Tommy's spent too long in the den despite Evan calling dinner ready more than 10 minutes ago.

Personally, Tommy quietly likes it when Evan uses it when they're on separate shifts. The light flashing a friendly hello or good night as Tommy lies in bed, the gentle reminder that Evan knows his schedule and is thinking of him.

Though Evan's most resourceful use of the app might just be Tommy's favourite…

Tommy's been reading peacefully for more than an hour, undisturbed, just long enough to get suspicious about Evan's absence, when the lights start flashing.

Two quick flashes and a hold. Two more quick flashes and a hold. Then one quick flash, two longer, and a final quick flicker before the lights resettle. Tommy lowers his book.

The lights flash again, pattern repeating.

Tommy watches, puzzled and entranced as the pattern repeats insistently too more times before Tommy sets down his book, shaking his head with immeasurable fondness as he makes his way back to the bedroom where he has no doubt Evan has holed up.

"Evan. Did you learn Morse code so you could use our lights to ask "U UP"?"

It only escalates from there; becomes their own secret language, best used for things that feel too big for words.

Or for messing with their friends.

"They're doing it again," Chim stage whispers suspiciously from his perch behind Tommy.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Evan says loftily, shifting slightly in his chair across from Tommy, toe of his shoe trailing gently across Tommy's ankle where their feet are tangled under the dinner table.

"We're not doing anything, Howie," Tommy says, deeply serious even as his own foot slides up the curve of Evan's calf, pressing gently in warning. It's doing everything he has to keep this little game of footsie appropriate while he's at work but confusing Howie is definitely helping. "Evan's telling the truth, I really can read his mind."

Evan, the perfect partner in crime, nods enthusiastically. Tommy can see where he's biting his cheek not to laugh.

"Okay, okay, one more time, I need hard evidence here if I'm gonna believe Tommy's really going all Sixth Sense on me."

"I'm still alive, Howie," Tommy sighs, mentally chalking up another movie for movie night at Evan's confused expression.

"Shuhshushshh," Howie flaps a hand, clicking his tongue before raising his arms for silence. "Okay, Buck. I've drawn another card, here we go," Howie finally says grandly.

There's a pause, Evan narrows his eyes dramatically at whatever playing card Howie is currently hiding behind Tommy's head.

Tommy feels Evan's toes tap.

"Two of Clubs," he starts, cut off immediately by Howie's howl of disbelief.

Tommy realizes pretty quickly that they'll need to be a bit more careful when flirting at work.

It's easy to forget they're not the only ones who know Morse code.

"Right, fire's out, 118 will be staying at the scene to monitor for hot spots," Bobby announces as they regroup, the 217 and other units all quietly (or not so quietly) celebrating being dismissed from the scene as the 118 groans and readies themselves for several more hours of tedious baby sitting.

"Good work out there, Firefighter Buckley," Tommy says, palm thumping warmly on Evan's shoulder as the crews disperse, his fingers lingering just shy of what might be professional as Evan's hand comes up to cup his elbow, smile bright under his visor.

"You too, Firefighter Kinard," Evan says back, a little breathless, fingers tapping aggressively along the underside of Tommy's arm as their hands slide away. Tommy only gets half the message through his turnouts but it's enough to make his ears red.

"I'll see you at home," he promises, eyes heavy and hot on Evan's face.

"Y-yeah," Evan says with a hopeful swallow, watching as Tommy starts to step away. "Oh-" Evan starts, pauses. Keys his radio. Keys it again a few more times. It chirps several more eclectic beats as Tommy backwards frogmarches his way away from Evan, head spinning as he translates rapidly in his head.

"Yeah. Yeah we can definitely do that," he says thickly. "Jesus, Evan-"

"For the love of GOD, I can understand you," Eddie calls from back near the 118's engine. "I think I need to go rinse my ears out," he says, stomping around the other side of the water tanks. Tommy hopes he's not going for the hoses.

"Sorry Eddie!"

Tommy knows it's risky. Doesn't have a lot of time to think between the gun being shoved in his face and the chopper being forcefully boarded. His heart's in his throat as he field's the ATC hail, taking one last breath.

He rattles off a usual check in with dispatch and flight control, voice even and level as the nose of the helicopter as he takes the route his new passengers have so kindly and clearly laid out for him, along with what happens if he tries to deviate.

"Wait, Dispatch, can you also pass on a message for Evan? 118," he says, gripping the controls tight as the gun sways dangerously back into his field of vision. "Just-" Tommy nods in understanding to his kidnappers, taps the microphone a few times in burst of nervous energy. Repeats the motion. "Just, tell him that I'm gonna be late for dinner."

S.O.S

Buck barely waits for Athena to give the all clear as he bursts onto the helipad, chest still heaving from his sprint up the stairs. It helped to get his blood pumping again, heart still a frozen thing, barely pumping blood thick with dread since Josh had passed on Tommy's message.

They already have Tommy loaded onto a gurney as he mounts the pad, oxygen mask fixed in place as they set the rails in place. If Tommy's breathing that means he's alive. He's still here.

Buck can barely speak as he curls over Tommy's prone form on the gurney, grateful for Athena's presence to delay the paramedics as long as they dear. He's forehead to chest, the steady thump of Tommy's heart in his ears and Buck can finally breath again himself.

Tommy's hand comes up, gentle, trembling as it cups Buck's face, strokes the apple of his cheek.

"Hey," Buck says, softly, relief and misery and sheer elation bubbling in his throat at the sight of Tommy's blue eyes peeking at him through hooded lashes.

"Hey," Tommy mouths back, thumb still tracing soft circles in Buck's skin before he shifts it, taps out words too heavy, too important to be anywhere but pressed into Buck's skin.

I/LOVE/YOU

[vividraft]

non-working makeup wipes

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gn!reader x xiao

⇢ ˗ˏˋ summary: you were supposed to do xiaos makeup, but the closeness left xiao a little too flustered

⇢ ˗ˏˋ important notes: this is a repost from my old account (@/rainstops)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ a/n: this is probably one of my oldest posts ever, since its also from my old wattpad account, so the formatting and writing and wording is all veeerrryyy weird...

old post masterlist tba !

The theater club was playing a traditional play at a school festival for the first time ever. The preparations were going great and still, the director of the club was stressing all the members of the club.

You weren't a part of the club, but you were close friends with the person who played the main role - Yun Jin. You were just supposed to hold a speech for the audience right before the play, and you were sitting outside, behind the school building, trying to remember your text, but Yun Jin was texting you the whole time, telling you about how annoying the director was and so on. You still had about an hour left before the play and the whole festival in general, started but your school was already filling with people. Thinking about having to hold a speech in front of all these people, was making you incredibly nervous.

But you knew you weren't the only nervous person here.

You gave that a thought. Everyone was stressed and nervous. Especially the people that were supposed to go on stage in an hour. All the people you heard from today were nervous. Especially your friend Lisa, who has spent the last two nights sleepless, trying to improve her make up skills since she was the one who was supposed to do everyone's make up for the traditional play. And everyone had to wear makeup for this play. You tried telling her to go to sleep because it could also interfere with her way of doing make up, but she refused to.

You had to smile thinking about it. It was incredible since she was usually the sleepiest person alive. You were seriously worried that she was going to fall asleep while doing make up too.

Suddenly you got a call. It was Yun Jin.

„Yun Jin you know I'm busy with my text-„,you tried to explain.

„Y/N it's an emergency! Lisa fell asleep and we can't wake her!! How can she fall asleep during her break! And me and Xiao still didn't get out makeup done", she cut you off.

„But what am I supposed to do about it?!", you asked.

„Y/N I know that Lisa told you all about how to do this traditional make up style. We can provide you with pictures and everything but please! You have to help us finish the makeup look!! Our director is going crazy!", she shouted into the phone.

„But Yun-„, you tried to argue but she cut you off again.

„No Y/N please come now!", Yun Jin exclaimed and hung up.

Guess you had no other option than to take a look at the problem.

-

You arrived backstage with a worried looking Yun Jin, a thrice as stressed director as you imagined, and a pretty calm but still annoyed looking Xiao.

„Okay, I'm here", You said.

„Thank god Y/N! Here's the makeup, please just do this, we have about 40 minutes left only!", Yun Jin acknowledged and pushed you into a chair next to a bunch of makeup, as she sat down in front of you.

She knew exactly how to do the make up too, since she's watched Lisa do it for the past 30 minutes. She moved her head accordingly to where it had to be for the next step of applying the makeup. She also reminded you what to do when you forgot a thing or two. The most part of the make up was about the eyes. There was barely any blush or lipstick in the make up style. Yun Jin cooperated really well and you were able to finish the make up quite fast. Xiao was now the only one without the needed makeup. He sat down in front of you, and you immediately started giving his eyes the main color. The eyeshadow was easy to do and to blend out, but your biggest struggle has always been eyeliner. Yun Jin's eyeliner looked quite good so you figured it shouldn't be too hard on Xiao's eyes either. That would've been the case if he hadn't turned his head half away.

„Xiao can you look at me please?", you asked.

He didn't give your wanted reaction though. He only looked at you with his yellow eyes. Not turning his head whatsoever.

You sighed, knowing that there's almost no time left, and you still had to finish this, so you just took his chin between your thumb and index finger, and turned his head towards you. You didn't notice it at first, but his cheeks turned red. Redder than they were supposed to be. After you finished applying his eyeliner, you noticed it.

„Oh your cheeks are quite red... did I apply too much blush...?", you considered while Xiao's eyes were closed and brows were furrowed.

„I'm just gonna wipe it off with a makeup wipe", you added, still holding his chin.

You took a makeup wipe and tried wiping the blush off Xiao's face. That didn't work.

„Weird... it's not coming off. Shit what do I do the play is about to start in 15 minutes... uhhh"

Xiao suddenly took your wrist and removed your hand from his chin. He turned his head away. That's when you noticed that the „blush" was slowly „coming off".

You obviously realized why his face was so red a minute ago.

„So it wasn't make up...", you stated and also had a light pink touch on your face.

„Well then your makeup should be done..!", you added and got up. You were ashamed since you tried rubbing off the natural redness off Xiao's face. You went to talk to Yun Jin. Who witnessed the whole thing with a smug smile on her face.

„Wipe that smile off your face or..."

„Or what? You're gonna wipe it off with a makeup wipe?", Yun Jin teased while your face turned visibly red. She knew that you had a „little" crush on Xiao for a while now.

„Cut it Yun Jin! I need to read my text one more time... the show's gonna in 10 minutes...", you turned away and walked off.

-

You held your speech and watched the play from the back. Still on your mind what happened right before all this...

After the play you hugged Yun Jin telling her how great she was playing the lead role and everything.

„You were awesome!! How are you so good at this!", You cheered.

„Thank you Y/N!", Yun Jin hugged you back.

„Wanna go get something to drink? I heard the cafeteria has something new only for this festival!", you requested.

„Oh my yes of course!... but first I think you should talk to a certain someone...", Yun Jin smirked.

„Yun Jin look if this about what happened before the play then-„, Yun Jin just shook her head and gave you a sign to turn around. You raised an eyebrow but didn't question it any further.

And there was Xiao, standing right behind you.

„Oh! Uh xiao what's-?",

„Meet in the cafeteria in an hour", was all he replied, before walking past you leaving you standing there with your mouth open speechless.

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 21: Teasing

What Happens in Vegas

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, public sex (kinda)

Word Count: ~1.1k

Kinktober Masterlist

It's not the first time you've been out with Elvis, but it's the first time you've brought him to the hotel in Vegas where you normally dance. You've taken the week off to be with him, but he wanted to go to the show and he isn't really a man to be argued with. 

You first sit at a table side by side, but people keep bothering you for pictures, so you move to a smaller table sitting across from each other in a darker part of the room. From here, he can see the dancers, but no one can really see him. That’s fine by you until you realize how much he is watching the other girls. You know better than to expect that you're the only girl he's seeing. He's Elvis Presley. But you had kinda hoped that when he was with you, he would be with you, so when he's openly ogling the dancers on stage, you start to get a little annoyed. 

The first thing you do is order a drink with a cherry in it. When he finally does look at you, you roll the cherry around on your lips and tongue as he talks. He quickly loses his train of thought, stuttering and stumbling over words. But before too long he's back to staring at the girls. 

You think to yourself that it's time to switch tactics, so the next time he looks at you to speak, you settle your breasts against the table and squeeze your arms together. Your dress is sinfully low cut and doing this pushes your breasts up so high that he can almost see the tops of your nipples. This time he stops talking completely and has to remind himself to close his mouth. 

“Honey, what are you doin’?!” You look at him with your eyes wide and innocent. 

“What do you mean?” He groans and looks away again, but you're not about to be discouraged. You look around for something else to tease him with and then realize the table is small. You can easily reach him with your foot. 

Slipping off your heel, you snake your stocking-covered toes up his leg to his thigh. He whips his head around to you and gasps, speechless at first. When your little foot finds his clothed member where it always is against his left leg, he damn near screams. 

“Honey?!”

“Oh, I'm sorry, am I distracting you from watching the girls?”

“Little bit. What do you think you're doing?” He whimpers as you start to stroke him with your toes. He’s already pretty hard from your earlier antics and the stage full of half-naked women. “Baby…”

“You want me to stop?”

“Yes.” He mutters half-heartedly as his eyes are closed and he's biting his bottom lip. It doesn't look like he really does. You continue to move your toes on him where he's fully hard now. 

“That's too bad. You should've been paying more attention to me.”  

He whimpers as you stroke him with a little more pressure. You know he loves your feet. He's said it about a hundred times and it's not the first time you've had your toes on his cock.

“Honey, please. I'll s-stop. Just… oh…” He moans softly as you squeeze him a little. 

Just then, the waitress comes by to check and see if you need any more drinks. He answers in a strained voice as you move your foot on him a little faster. 

“Nope! We're doing just… fine…” He says the last part through gritted teeth and she looks at you both strangely before walking away. 

“Damn it, honey, if you don't stop-”

“What? What will you do?” He groans loudly and leans his head back with his eyes closed. The people at the next table glare at him for making such a loud noise. He smiles at them awkwardly and gestures that they should look back up at the stage. 

“Honey!! Goddamnit stop!” 

“You gonna stare some more at the bouncing tits on stage?” You pout and use the space between your big toe and second toe to pump him. 

“No! I'm gonna look at your tits and yours alone.” He hisses. 

“You sure about that?” You're moving your foot on him pretty good now with the perfect amount of pressure and speed. Sweat droplets have started to form on his forehead and he's biting his knuckle to try to stay quiet. 

“Yes, now please, stop!” You click your tongue and shrug. 

“Oh, I dunno, this is fun.” His dick twitches between your toes and you smirk. Then his hips buck and he looks at you in a panic. 

“Fuck. Honey. If you don't stop right now I'm gonna cum right here at this table.” You can tell by the look in his eyes that he's not joking or just trying to get you to stop. You've pushed him too far and it's already almost too late. 

He can't very well walk out of there with a cumstain on his pants, so you look around the table frantically as he whimpers. You'd stop, but it might actually be painful at this point, so instead you toss him your napkin. He grabs it, rips his pants open under the table and cums hard into the black cloth. You try very hard to suppress a giggle as he leans all the way forward and puts his forehead on the tablecloth. 

“Fuck, honey.” He grumbles, grunting. 

“I'm sorry…” You whisper, trying to keep the laughter out of your voice. He sits up and looks at you with his eyes wide. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with this now?! I can't leave it here?!” 

“Oh, shit.” You look at each other in stunned silence for a few seconds before you hand him your purse. “Put it in there.”

“Really?” 

“What choice do we have?!” It's just then that the absurdity of the situation dawns on him and he starts laughing as he takes your purse and stuffs the napkin inside it. 

“Oh, honey, that one kinda backfired on you, didn't it?” He can't stop laughing now as he hands your purse back to you. 

“Oh hush.” You crinkle your nose and look at your little bag. “You owe me a purse.”

“Don't worry, honey. After that, I'll buy you ten purses. Let's get out of here. I'm tired of these girls anyway.” You smile at him as he stands up next to the table.��

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You're the only one I really wanna look at anyway. You and those pretty little feet.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @atleastpleasetelephone @deltafalax @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @jhoneybees @polksaladava @searchingforgravity @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @your-nanas-house @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69

[goneinsecondsxo]

beautiful soul | jerejean | aftg | 748 words

this is specifically for you @rae-lune <3 mwah mwah jerejean at pride

Jean wasn’t sure what to expect at his first Pride event. If he’s honest, he still feels a bit out of place. When Cat offered to put face jewels on him in the colors of the bisexual pride flag, he swatted her hand away so fast that the jewels scattered across the floor.

“I guess not then,” Cat muttered with a chuckle, crouching to pick them up one by one.

The parade wasn’t the worst thing he’s ever experienced—too loud, too many people—but he can’t deny the warmth that spread through his chest at Jeremy’s smile, at the way Cat and Laila clung to each other, at Xavier and Cody and their teammates cheering as each float rolled by.

Now he finds himself in another crowd, standing before a stage draped in a massive rainbow flag that stretches its entire length. Bold letters across it read: You Belong Here. He isn’t quite sure what to make of it.

Looking next to him, he spots Jeremy laughing with Laila, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders as they sway to whatever ridiculous pop song is blaring from the loudspeakers.

"What is it we are doing here again?" Jean leans down and whispers into Jeremy's ear.

He glances up, brown eyes so bright as he lifts up on his feet to whisper back, "We're seeing one of my favorite artists, Jean. This is a huge day for me, and at Pride no less!"

Jean's brows draw together in confusion. Is he supposed to know what that means? Laila must see the confusion on his face, because she leans across the two of them and pulls Jean in close to say, "Jesse McCartney is performing."

"Who?"

Laila bursts out laughing as Jeremy’s face twists in mock offense. “You did not just say ‘who’ to Jesse McCartney.”

Before Jean can respond to that, the music turns off over the speakers and the crowd starts to scream—including Jeremy. Jean tries to be annoyed, but the absolute delight on Jeremy's face has him unable to find anything besides fondness.

The song starts—Jean has no idea what it is—but Jeremy instantly starts to sing along.

Laila, Cat, Cody and Xavier sway along as well, and Jean stands bone still, arms crossed.

Jeremy sings the lyrics, and looks up at Jean to say how much he wishes Nicky were here, and that Nicky gets it when it comes to Jesse McCartney. Whatever that means.

Jean tries to think if there's been another time he's seen Jeremy this happy, and he's not sure he ever has. He watches the blonde man dance on the stage, and frankly thinks he looks stupid. But then he glances back over to Jeremy and a smile pulls on his lips.

Jeremy's hand is on his chest, clutching the fabric of the red USC shirt Cat helped him cut into a crop top—which Jean hates simply because it means he has to try extra hard not to stare at Jeremy's navel, at the tufts of hair leading down and disappearing into his gold shorts.

He shakes his head before he gets carried away with his thoughts again. Quickly, his face shifts back into something of confusion when he finds Jeremy with tears pooling at the corner of his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asks, genuinely concerned that Jeremy might be hurt or something. He's grabbing his chest...is he having a heart attack? A panic attack? Is the crowd too much? Does he need water?

Laila moves behind Jean, pulling him in. "He's fine, he's just happy. Jesse McCartney is his favorite."

"And that makes him cry?"

Laila laughs, "Just let him have this."

Jeremy sings louder now, Do you see things the way I do? I just want to know that you feel it too? There is nothing left to hide...

Jeremy turns to Cat and Jean can just make out her words. "This is you and Jean's song," she says grinning. Jean doesn't miss the way Jeremy's cheeks flush pink.

"Shut up, Cat."

Cat responds by kissing him on the cheek and singing with him, the two clearly getting lost in the performance.

Jeremy sings, and cries, and eventually his arm snakes around Jean's waist. Jean's arm wraps around him in return, and he can't help himself from leaning down to kiss the top of Jermey's blonde waves—his brown roots coming in a bit—and inhales the scent of his shampoo.

Jean may hate Jesse McCartney, but he really likes Jeremy.

[snowfires]

What would happen if one of them accidentally injured reader after getting into a relationship with her?

Ooo. Definitely lots of hurt/comfort if this happened from all of the boys.

Killer accidentally hurts you no matter how many years you’ve been in a relationship. It’s the unfortunate reality of having a soul filled with LV and stage 4. While experience would help you learn to get to his soul before he slices you up with a knife (and the other boys would certainly help restrain him), accidents still happen from time to time.

Killer’s always as doting as he was in chapter 5, cleaning your wounds and giving you healing items, tucking you into bed and staying to ensure you don’t hurt during the night.

What Killer hates, however, is that you don’t ever blame him for it. You fill his soul with that intoxicating affection and then follow him around for days to keep him happy.

Overtime, he would start to hate himself for it. The others don’t hurt you this often. They don’t need you to exhaust your magic just to get control of their emotions. You’re his mate, his wife, his other half and he can’t even prevent himself from hurting you! Killer doesn’t get insecure often, but it starts to eat away at him. Is he your worst lover?

One time he would hide himself away after it happened, going off to some distant AU and refusing to answer calls. When you find him, he’s curled up in some woods with at least a dozen random cats that he’s picked up. You lean your head against his and remind him that you always knew this would be part of dating him, and you aren’t angry with him. If it bothered you, you would’ve cut him off when you first met.

What you are annoyed about is that he now wants to add another twelve cats to the fifty+ ones he already owns.

Cross would be most unlikely to accidentally injure you. His LV is much lower than the others, so he doesn’t suffer from LV rushes, and he’s extremely disciplined during combat. His swords and magic attacks always land where he aims them. Once you’re in a relationship with Nightmare, you’re his Queen. He takes his role guarding you very seriously.

So if he were to injure you, it would likely be because you changed positions unexpectedly during a fight. In the moment he sought to protect you, he grazes you with his sword—harming the one he swore to defend at the cost of his life.

The way you cry out, eyes momentarily filled with betrayal, shatters him. He teleports you both out of the situation, calls Nightmare to pick you up, and brings you home cradled in his arms. He’s tearing up the whole time you’re being fixed up by Horror, sobbing when Error comes to give you stitches, and hiding his face in his hoodie when you look up across the room at him.

“It’s okay Cross,” you whisper, but he doesn’t believe it. If he’s not perfect at protecting you, then what good is he? Why would Nightmare allow him anywhere near you? He destroyed his entire family, his world, and now he’s destroying you… what if you don’t love—

“Cross.” You open your arms and he falls into them, apologizing over and over. You stroke his head, hushing him. It was frightening, but you know your sweet soldier would never do that purposefully.

While you’re recovering, Cross tends to you with absolute devotion, not leaving your side for a second.

The beginning of Dust’s relationship with you was wrought with violence. It’s in the past, but never forgotten. He notices how you flinch away sometimes on his bad days. He knows he’s not allowed to roughhouse with you the way he does with everyone else.

When he accidentally hurts you again during a LV rush, he’s terrified you’ll get rid of him. The way you scream, the scent of your magic flooding the air as you try to defend yourself… it’s the first time the relentless urge to KILL has just… stopped. But the damage is done.

You won’t let him touch you, or carry him home. Horror says it’s better he stays out of the infirmary. Cross refuses to eat at the table with him.

Dust assumes your relationship is over.

A few days later, however, he’s brought into the infirmary by Horror. You stare at him from your place nestled among soft blankets Error has prepared from you, and slowly ask if he meant it. Dust says he didn’t, and turns to leave. What more is there to say? Look at you. He did that to you. He doesn’t deserve to be your lover anymore.

Horror hauls Dust to your bedside, dumping him next to you. To his surprise, you reach out a hand to take his. When he realizes you’re forgiving him, he curls against your side, murmuring quiet apologies. He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, and he’s terrified it might happen again… but you want him, and you deserve everything you want.

Horror most likely would hurt you indirectly. There are times he forgets where he is or that the famine is long behind him, wandering the castle grounds and setting up traps. If you went off the usual path, deep into the woods to forage together, there’s a high likelihood you stumble into one of those traps.

It’s not terrible—a few deep cuts on your ankle, nothing Error can’t stitch up. You know Horror doesn’t mean to set these things up. Really, they need to make a better system of dismantling them.

But Horror feels sick, especially considering you are exactly the prey he set those traps for. He hangs around the infirmary, bringing you your favourite flowers and sweets and special meals only for you. You keep telling him that he doesn’t need to look so upset; you’re alright, and you’re not mad at him. It’s not even that bad! Still, he feels better taking care of you.

Error doesn’t go around using weapons or killing specific people. He deliberately destroys AUs. Though sometimes he does it slowly—corrupting the code piece by piece to avoid Ink noticing and causing a fuss.

The important thing is, there’s absolutely no way he’d hurt his wife like the others.

At least Error thinks that, until one day he’s messing around with you, hoisting you up in his strings to get a view from a large tree in an AU you went to together. Some animal ends up crawling along his leg, and he glitches out from the sudden contact. But the strings glitch too—into you. They should have stayed wrapped around your arm, but they cut into the skin, drawing blood.

Error immediately starts fixing you up, grabbing monster food from an AU and stitching you back together. He hadn’t meant to harm you. He didn’t even know that could happen.

He spends the next few days reappearing in your room in the castle with offerings, including extra soft bandages sown by hand and new movies and games to play together.

Nightmare is neither human nor monster. He possesses power far beyond what is normal—it is the reason many call him a god. At his heart, however, he’s a romantic. Tales of soulmates and lovers who would sacrifice anything for each other fascinated him from the time he was child. He believes one should treat their lover with the utmost reverence; doubly so for his Queen.

Hurting you was never something Nightmare wanted to happen—but in the midst of a fight, when his focus is split between many opponents, you lift your bow to the sky, sunlight reflecting off the notched arrow… and for a moment, he thinks Dream is there.

Nightmare’s tentacles lash out by instinct, picking you up and tossing you across the battlefield. He sends Killer after you, but Killer can shortcut—he lands without any pain. And when Killer looks down, it’s not Dream lying there but you, arms limp and a thin trail of blood dribbling from where you hit your head on a rock. The wound isn’t fatal, but could have been.

It’s the first true fight Nightmare and Killer have had in decades—Nightmare wants to rush you home and care for you, but Killer won’t let him anywhere near you. How can he trust Nightmare won’t freak out on you and hurt you again right now?

Once Killer gets you home and has Error help him tend to you, he relaxes around Nightmare. Killer knows he didn’t mean it.

Nightmare comes to you in the dead of night, wrapping a soft blanket around Killer—who is fast asleep in a chair in the corner—before running a tentacle through your hair. You stir, and he feels your fear, and your worry.

He apologizes profusely, speaking near-poetry into your ears of his reverence for you, and what a grave mistake he has made. Nightmare is incredibly ashamed—he believes it was unforgivable, what he did to you, yet he still wants you to forgive him. He wants to remain at your side.

Naturally, you do forgive him, though you insist he gets you a new bow—one in a colour starkly different from Dream’s.

[ninthskzmember]

Sweet revenge

Hwang Hyunjin x reader.

idol!hyunjin x idol!reader word count: 1,3k warnings: kinda angsty, jealous hyunjin (lives in my head rent free), resentful reader, swearing. note: hi guys! i just wanted to keep a little update for you all while i'm working with the 2min sharing is caring part. i hope you enojoy this. <3 love ya.

"So you're really doing it"

"I'm totally doing it"

"Everyone is gonna know..."

"Yeah, that's kind of the idea" You smiled at her "I want him to feel as stupid as I did"

"Yeah, I get it but―"

"Stop defending him" you cutted her off. "If you're on his side then be, but don't come here and annoy me"

"I'm not" she added "What he did was wrong, periodt. BUT" she emphasized the last word "You'll expose him in front of everyone"

"He will know"

"Okay, but the people who knew you will know too" she paused "plus he sucks at hiding shit"

"That's on him, he sucks at media training" you laughed when remembered the many times he almost exposed your relationship with him just because his goofyness.

"Okay, I'm just warning you" she smiled and walked towards you "Have fun and break a leg" she hugged your body and let you go.

"Thank you, Somi" You smiled at her and moments later, she left.

[Later that day...]

'I met a guy in the summer and I left him in the spring, he argued with me about everything.'

Your song started blasting on the huge speakers from the award show, the sound of the drums was making the people's chest even vibrate a bit

'He had an ego and a temper and a wandering eye, he said he's six foot two and I'm like dude... nice try.'

And there it was, the first direct lyrics against your ex lover, standing right in first row with his beloved members right beside him.

You weren't even trying to hide that you wanted to see his reactions over the lyrics, you kept an eye on his table from the first moment you got a foot on stage.

'But he was so much fun, and he had such weird friends, and he would take us out to parties and the night would never end. Another song, another club, another bar, another dance, and when he'd said something wrong, he'd just fly me to France.'

You knew his members knew about you, so there was no surprise to you when they laughed out loud with the 'weird friends'.

When the song reached the France line, in the screens from the place there were shown many pictures of you in the country... The ones that Hyunjin took for you in his own little camera. Yes, you'd save them for years if you needed to.

'So I miss him some nights when I'm feeling depressed, till I remember all the times he made a pass on my friend. Do I love him? Do I hate him? I guess it's up and down; If I had to choose... I would say right now...'

Long pause, just to have him on his tippy toes. Jeongin was literally grabbing him, waiting for the music to break and expecting the next lyrics.

'I want to get him back, wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad. Oh, I want to get him back, 'cause then, again, I really miss him and it makes me real sad'

Audience screaming and moving their hands in the air to the rhythm of the music, and a 'I can't believe it' kind of expression in Hyunjin's face was everything that you needed to feel fulfilled.

'Oh, I want sweet revenge. I want him again. I want... To get him back, back, back'

You sang these lyrics while dancing along with Beomgyu, who was banging his head along with the music. You knew Hyunjin was going to be upset about it, you had a zillion discussions with your ex-lover about this guy, and that's why you did it.

'So I write him all these letters and I throw them in the trash cause I miss the way he kisses and the way he made me laugh'

You changed your lyrics while singing live 'the way he grabs my ass' while the backing track stayed true to the official line. Shocked everyone in the room, including your own friends in the building, who knew the real lyrics but didn't expect you to be explicit at this event.

'Yeah, I pour my little heart out, but as I'm hitting "Send"

I picture all the faces of my disappointed friends'

You pointed to those friends in question: Somi, Karina, Giselle, Yujin, Yunjin, and Chaewon between others, who screamed their lungs off from your action, hyping you up.

'Because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do

He said I was the only girl but that just wasn't the truth'

You side-eyed him and then did the same thing with Yeji, who looked fastly to the floor, hiding her face and then looking away.

Everyone in the industry knew you weren't one to mess with, and yet, those two did.

This was just the begging of a long plan you made up to get your sweet revenge to the one who broke your trust and heart and the one who went along with it.

'And when I told him how he hurt me, he'd tell me I was trippin'. But I am my father's daughter, so maybe I could fix him'

You flutterer your eyes to the camera at the end of the lyric and the chorus started again, you repeating your actions from before.

[...]

"What do you want?" You asked when you observed him through the mirror

"What was all that about?"

"A song I wrote, why?" You asked, not even bothering to turn around and engage the conversation

"I know you wrote it" he rolled his eyes

"Did it touch you deep inside?" You laughed, still eating some snacks

"You shouldn't have done that. The France pictures? Y/n, that was risky"

"Risky?" You turned back this time "Fuck off, Hyunjin. Fuck you, and Yeji. Oh wait, you've already done that"

"Why are you not taking your makeup off?" He ignored your comment "You always take your makeup off after performing"

"Because I've got a date and I like the makeup" you smiled

"Oh, do you? Who is it?"

"Why do you care?" You brought another snack to your lips

"Is it Beomgyu?"

"Why do you care so much who's dick I ride?" You frowned

"You had sex with him already?" His ears turned red

"It's none of your business. Keep your dick inside Yeji and don't bother me."

"We were wasted, I didn't mean to do it. You know it" the man stared at you trying to hide his emotions.

"I don't care! You hurt me, Hyunjin. I was the one to find you two having naked aftercare. AFTERCARE. You don't do aftercare with a one-time-accidental hook up." You sighted for a moment "I won't fucking cry and ruin my makeup. Leave. Now." Your eyes were already watery as you tried to stop the tears

"I won't." He stood his ground in front of you

"Leave, they're gonna pick me up any minute and I don't want you here to ruin it"

"No. Please forgive me, I didn't mean to hurt you." he took your hand and you pulled it away quickly

"Don't touch me. My trust in you is broken, there's no going back" you denied as you took a few steps away from him

"Please" his eyes were the ones that were watery now, you could tell he was being honest, but you couldn't forgive him after what he made you feel.

"Y/ninnie, time to gooo" A voice cooed from the door as you froze

"Chan Hyung?" Hyunjin turned himself faster than ever, as his eyes met his leaders

"Hyunjin? I... I didn't expect you here" the older one blinked a few times as you observed everything from behind Hyunjin's body

"Hyung... What are you doing here?"

You thought that getting him back was gonna make everything better, but hearing the hurt in his voice broke you even more.

"Mate, I can explain" His leader walked inside

Hyunjin didn't even say another word, he just walked past his member, looking back at both of you, and left the room as one tear rolled down his face.

You felt how your world crashed inside of you. Turns out that getting him back was not what you needed, and just hurt yourself even more.